12: Bolt Saga, Book 12

by Angel Payne

  Accept it as a symbol of everything you are to me…of all the more you are to me…

  I lift my hand, tracing one of the petals, as every detail of that night fills my mind. The caress of the canyon breeze on my face. The smell of those poppies on the air. The stunning silver magic in his eyes as I’d laughed out my reply.

  Just shut up and put that damn bowling ball on my finger…

  And then, once we’d gotten back to the car, how he’d matched the electricity of his eyes with the mastery of his body. How he’d claimed my desire as perfectly as he’d just asked for my hand.

  How he’d shown me that life would always, always be more with him in it.

  My fingers flatten against the glass as the others pass by. Vaguely, I recognize Joany helping Angelique with the trek, while Chase helps Wade with his limping journey. I’m back in the present but still fighting to reconcile it with the past. I’m gazing at my left hand, right? So where’s the ring? Where’s the ring?

  But that’s when the past really collides with the present.

  Reminding me.

  Accusing me.

  It’s my fault.

  I’d left the gem here so as to not lose it during my grand gallivant to the castle to kill the queen. So noble; a heroine’s quest. I was going to free my man from the evil witch. I was going to be the savior this time. I was going to make everything all right and show Reece I could do more than wring my hands, tell him to be careful, and take up extra space in the mission team van.

  “But I did nothing.” I sough it from a dry and aching throat despite how my heart is suddenly a whole ocean that crashes the dam of my composure.

  No. You did everything.

  All the important stuff—just like the grown-up superheroes.

  Sneaking into the evil castle? Check.

  Scamming the brainless guards? Check.

  Holding a gun to the bitch-on-high? Check.

  Getting trapped in said bitch’s energy web and then winding up in her mad scientist electricity chamber, tortured to pain I never knew a human could survive? Check, check, and check.

  But knowing my sacrifice, in the end, ended up with Faline in the grave and my man sane and safe?

  My hand makes a long squeak on the glass as I skid it back down to my level. Then curl it into my lap…and drench it with my tears.

  “Fool.” My rasping rage grows with every scalding tear, every racking sob. “You’re a fucking fool, and now you’ve made damn sure to carve the point in stone!”

  My words only seem to recall more of his. All the times he kissed me, held me, reassured me…

  I only want you, baby.

  I only need you, my sweet Bunny.

  You’re my life, my beautiful Velvet.

  You’re my more, my Emmalina.

  And every time, I hadn’t truly believed him. Hadn’t really known…

  That I really was.

  But as the truth slams me now, I’m racked with emptiness, drained by remorse, sapped by despair. I have no damn idea how Lydia and Foley got me to move again, let alone stand and walk—if that’s what this aching shuffle is. How can I take another step? Or even think about breathing inside this place without him? Every thread of my soul is unraveled. Every light in my world has been snuffed.

  Wait.

  I jolt my head a little higher.

  The lights.

  Is it just me? Or…

  “Why aren’t the lights on?” I spin in a tight circle, picking up on even more in the air. More accurately, on even less. The touchable silence throughout the house isn’t solely due to Reece’s absence, as I’d first thought when we arrived minutes-that-felt-like-years ago. This is a sizable difference. A noticeable stillness. I dart a questioning glance at ’Dia. “Why isn’t anything on?”

  Before she can answer, Alex seems to appear out of the air that still feels like Cream of Wheat. Though I know that’s not the case, it’s still a fight to restrain my shock at suddenly seeing him there—and soon, my anger at his walking-on-eggshells mien. Being treated like a breakable collectible is what made me flee the china shop of Orange County to begin with.

  But wouldn’t I be doing the same if I were any of them? Even I’m not sure whether I’m Teflon or Wedgewood right now. Though my heart and soul are more fissured than the San Andreas Fault, I’m shocked at how physically wired I am. Just the memory of what happened on that table in the mansion, for even a few hours, has me gasping for breath from the battle to erase it. The burning. The destruction. The pressure. The pain…

  But the hyperventilation doesn’t exhaust me. There’s just more air where that came from, along with heat that sharpens me and pressure that pushes me. Elevates every single one of my physical senses…

  Wow. I mean…seriously…wow.

  As Alex shifts forward, I can hear the scrape of dust beneath his shoes. As he looks up, I can practically count the pores in his skin. As he speaks, even in a strained grate, it’s like someone’s turned the foyer into an amplification chamber.

  “Hey. Welcome home.” He jabs his hands into his front pockets, and I hear the scrape of his fingertips against the change inside one of them. There’s only lint in the other one. I know it because I hear that too. “Sorry that the Welcome Wagon had to be so gloomy.” I also discern every note of regret he’s masking with the light tone. “We worked so fast to rewire everything for the zap to Reece, we somehow took the backup generator offline too. We’re working as fast as we can to untangle everyth—”

  “Whoa.” I mean it as a dictate, not an exclamation. “Hold on.” Then snap my hands to my waist, recognizing every confrontational vibe I’m giving off but can’t seem—or want—to temper. “The zap to Reece? Why? You had to rewire everything of what?”

  Whoa, the silent sequel version. Fidgeting is a fascinating look for Alex, who usually covers discomfort by diving into his theatrical side. But right now, he looks struck by Reece-level lightning as I wait for an answer.

  Which I get from the new arrival to the foyer instead. “The solar panels,” Fershan explains. “We concluded that diverting power directly off them, we could inject Reece with an effect similar to atmospheric ionization…”

  “Only directly in his blood.” Alex has finally forgotten to be awestruck—a good thing, because I’m so fascinated by what they’ve just said, I feel a huge smile forming as Fershan takes over again.

  “Thereby disrupting any radio signals that would be trying to get through to certain electrical viruses.” As he finishes, the guy practically lights up the house with the resplendence of his grin. Still, I can feel him holding back on his pride and joy, deferring more tiptoeing diplomacy to me, which only makes me spin into the same frustrating mix of ire and compassion.

  With a determined breath, I take a conscious stab at the latter. Even try to inch up my lips a little before saying, “Wow. Team Bolt sure leveled up, didn’t they?”

  They snort and then chuckle together.

  “So that’s what we did?” Alex murmurs.

  “Leveled up,” Fersh snorts back. “Yeah. That’s us. The level-uppers.”

  They join in a fit of laughter, giving me a long moment to observe them in full. I can see I played that one right when observing the extra twinkle in Alex’s eyes and the proud blush even on Fersh’s copper skin.

  But I can also see all that. Plainly.

  As if an invisible artist is standing there with a chisel for Wade’s cheeks and a dripping paintbrush for Fersh’s. And now, I can hear the rush of air in and out of both their lungs, betraying the extra happiness I gave them with the sarcastic but meaningful compliment.

  Whoa, yet again.

  What the hell is going on with me?

  I ask myself the question as I turn my focus inward for a long second. The sensation is like the first day of catching a cold, when I wonder if a cold is all it’ll be. I examine each symptom, one by one, in better detail—and start to notice the little things my grief has clouded from me until now. The extra siz
zle in all my nerve endings. The light-gold halo that appears whenever I look at anything that gives off electrical energy. Yes, even humans. Especially humans. That was probably an extra reason why the power outage was so jarring to me.

  No.

  Not the power outage.

  The power redirection.

  The power…that’s all still here. Just all in another room.

  In the lab.

  Where they gave Reece back his power. And his ability to be shielded from Faline’s influence so he could come find me. Only to offer himself back over to her because there was nothing I could do to help him. No matter what I’d done or how hard I’d tried, I’d still turned into his anchor instead of his wings. The chink in his gauntlets, fully exploited by the bitch with the Hos-R-Us lifetime membership.

  “Wait.”

  I practically shout it out, making the guys dagger their laughter to a stop and snap their attention to me with sharper conviction. Lydia and Foley turn with nearly the same speed.

  “Oh, my God.”

  But now, my voice is just a rasp. A sound laced with conflict. A lot of conflict. This is the exact mission map I followed before. The same thinking that shut off my logic for the consequences, my consideration for the team, and any sense about how things would turn out if things went wrong and I ended up on Faline’s table, wired to her psychotic whims. Worse, what would happen if Reece came and found me that way and then lost every rational thought in his own damn head about getting me out of there.

  “What is it, baby girl?” Lydia moves back in and gently scoops a hand into mine.

  “Oh.” It’s almost an afterthought, sluiced away on the rush of my breath as understanding continues to rush my brain. “Oh…my God.”

  And in the middle of that same ferocious flood, I’m suddenly thankful for every second of Faline’s electrified hell.

  Because what she did to me is the reason I can stand here, about to ask them to do the same thing.

  “Don’t fix the power.” I lower my hands all the way down, tempted to punch them into fists at the ends of my A-framed arms. I’m ready for this skirmish.

  I think.

  No. I know.

  Nothing else is an option.

  I do this—take the crazy, massive risk of this—or accept a life without Reece in it.

  Not. An. Option.

  And so, it’s this option.

  “Don’t do what?” Fershan rocks his head back, giving away his incredulity.

  I turn and brace my stance again, reconfirming my determination. “You heard me. Leave everything as it is. Plugged into the solar inverters.”

  “Merde.” Angie’s reentrance, with her mouth agog and her eyes wide, is well timed but still useless as a deterrent. “You…you do not seriously think…” she sputters, “that after just a few hours on Faline’s table…”

  “I don’t think,” I snap. “I know.”

  She huffs. “Emma, it is not such a simple process as—”

  I raise a firm finger. “I know, okay?” And reinforce the point with a direct lock of our gazes, reminding her how much I really do know. Like her, I’ve been locked down on Faline’s fun slab. Had that special firsthand view of all the technology and intricacy that goes into altering a human being’s bloodstream. Personally known the horrifying race of my pulse and hammering of my heart. “I know all about it, Angelique—just like I know that it took her weeks or months to transform most of the others, including Reece.” I straighten my spine while sucking in as big a breath as I can. This time, both moves are strictly for me. I need the fortification to state the rest of my case. “But you weren’t there today, when she was with me.”

  Though Alex’s scrutiny tightens the most, it’s Fershan who screws his composure back together first. “What did she do…with you, Emmalina?”

  Alex pushes his lips into a harder line. “What did she do to you?”

  I make sure they watch me pull in a deep, determined breath. I need to make sure they’re clear about what they’re getting into, despite the fact that I’m not really giving them a choice about it. I just need to know they’ll still be the guys who won’t let the lights go out on me at any part of this—no matter how high I scream or how thoroughly I beg them to relieve the torment.

  They have to love me enough to not love me right now.

  I won’t ever stop not forgiving you, Velvet…

  One more deep breath before I continue my explanation. “Faline kept talking about ‘crash coursing’ me,” I tell them. “And I noticed she had to keep confirming overrides on the machinery’s limits. Nearly all of my settings were pegged way over what the outputs on those things were set for.” I allow two seconds’ worth of a wince across my face. “If the pain was any indication, she was definitely trying to crash something.”

  “Mon dieu,” Angie utters.

  “So what does that mean?” Alex shifts forward, the corner of his left eye crimping, his open tell of curiosity. “What exactly are you asking us to do that has this one ‘mon dieu’ing on my shoulder?” He uses his right eye to flash a sardonic wink back at Angie.

  Fershan puts both eyes into his reaction, popping them wide in a look that’s either total shock or complete horror. Or maybe—probably—a crazy mash-up of the two. “You think we can channel the power into you—and use it to finish whatever the hell Faline started.”

  “Holy shit.” Alex’s twinge of mirth has vanished—his stare, swung from Angie onto me. “Is that possible, Emma? Did Faline get that much started?”

  I tilt my head, focusing on the rim of gold around his light-chestnut hair. “Depends on what you mean by ‘started.’ Does that lead to the part where everything looks like the gold fairy swung by and sneezed?”

  “Quelle?” Angie’s curiosity is a thick current in her query.

  I jog a glance back at her before explaining, “Exactly what I’m saying it is.” Then return my stare back to the rest of them, still blinking fast as if that’s going to change the view. “All of you have these…halos now. You look like a season finale of Touched by an Angel. Or maybe Supernatural, depending on which season.”

  “My word,” Fershan blurts.

  “Holy fuck,” Alex chokes.

  “No…no.” The exclamation defeating them both is a wrenching sob on the air. Even before Lydia falls into Sawyer’s comforting embrace, I know I haven’t exactly won over my sister’s vote for my plan.

  Not that I’m letting her have one either.

  “Honey.” I step over and rub her back. “I’m so, so sorry.” I issue it from the depths of my heart. “But right now, this is the only plan we’ve got.” I demand it from the steeled grit of my will.

  The resolve that’s going to get me through hell for a second time.

  Because we have to at least try.

  For Reece.

  For the part of me that can’t live without him.

  The part that includes everything except my toenails.

  Wait. Wrong. My toenails need him too.

  So it’s decided. This will happen—if I want to gain the team a fighting chance of stealing Reece back from Faline at all. I have no illusions that any of this is going to be neat or easy, especially with what I’ve just resolved myself to go through again—but my determination rises by matching degrees, pulsing brighter and bolder through my system before flowing over every speck of my vision. The golden outlines continue for me, many of them like dazzling amber crystals—though once again, living things are the most vivid. Because of that, I focus extra hard on Alex and Fersh. They return the scrutiny right away, and in the reflections of their irises, I see why. My mirror image now looks like some crazy new photo filter, its title likely called something like “Lycan Eyes” or “Wild Golden Girl.”

  If adding the flare to my eyes had only been as easy as pushing a button.

  “So…will you guys do it?” I secure a hand around each of their forearms, hoping they see beyond the new weirdness in my gaze, to the supplication and yearnin
g of the woman underneath. “I need this, okay?” I rasp. “I need more than just a fighting chance to get him back. I need to have the advantage over that witch, and we all know it.”

  The desperate, guilty, beyond grieving woman underneath.

  Who has no idea what kind of woman she’ll even be after all this is done.

  Recognizable? Identifiable? Knowable?

  I don’t care.

  I don’t care.

  The words become my mantra, blaring in my head and my heart in time to the terrified throb in my veins, as I follow Alex and Fershan out the front door and back to the lab—their version of a definitive reply to my entreaty.

  I don’t care.

  Pushing away all thoughts of the agony to come as I get up on the lab table and then let Lydia shackle me down.

  I don’t care.

  The words now stand in for others, throughout my spirit and soul, as my body shifts into a mode beyond my control. From head to toe, I shiver from unseen ice. I stutter through uneven breaths. I clench and unclench my trembling hands as my eyes drag open and closed, open and closed, open and closed…

  Before the blast of pure sun scalds my blood.

  And a silent scream of anguish tears past my open lips.

  And my heart shrieks with the words from the only part of me I’ll fight to keep. With everything I am. With everything I ever will be.

  I love you, Reece Richards.

  I love you.

  I love you.

  And I will fight for you—with every damn weapon within my reach.

  Even if I have to become one of them.

  REECE

  Consciousness returns like the parts of a Picasso painting. Cubes of reality and dreams try to piece together in my mind but don’t really look or sound right, forming a whole that isn’t whole. A me that’s not quite me.