Stunned (The Lucidites Book 2)

by Sarah Noffke

  Seizing our one chance to get ahead I encourage the team to bolt forward, staying back until I’m the only person between Trent and the group. Suddenly the ground begins to slip out from under my feet. I’ve just passed the door to the library when the ground buckles. I leap over the disturbed earth, pushing forward. The loud thunder from the hundreds of books ricocheting off the walls of the adjacent room grows less frequent, like popcorn popping in a microwave. The dark corridor and slick floor heightens my adrenaline with each step. The main room is only ten feet away, which is one room away from where we believe Aiden’s being held. We’re so close now.

  The earth below my feet rumbles. Through the flickering firelight, a curtain of rocks rains down in front of us only a few feet away. The rocks pour from the ceiling overhead, walling off the main room. Everyone halts, watching the rocks shower down, sending dust and debris in all directions. “Cover your faces,” I urge the group. The storm is short and within seconds a solid barrier stands before us. Allouette has done this. Blocked our path. Behind us the library door is only ten feet away. Sounds still echo from inside and Trent, who’s stationed beside me, is deeply entranced.

  “Joseph, George, and Pearl, clear an opening in this.” I motion to the stone. “I want all of you through there as soon as possible. Samara, you stay by Trent’s side until the last possible moment to protect him. When I command, I want you all to get through the opening and to the other side.”

  “What are you gonna do?” Joseph says, moving to my side.

  I take three calculated steps toward the library. “I’m going to buy you some time. Now get to work moving those rocks.”

  “No, Roya, you—”

  His words are drowned out by the sound of stone grinding against stone. The boulder-like door of the library slides back and before I can blink, Allouette’s obsidian eyes seize mine. She’s cold, battered, and wickedly beautiful.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Long, black hair frames Allouette’s heart-shaped face. It flows over her shoulders like seaweed, stopping at her lower back. Her doll-like eyes are both mesmerizing and terrifying. I know I shouldn’t look at them, like they’re part of Medusa, but still I’m compelled. Everything about her is all wrong, like her features aren’t her own, her body a fabrication of magic and potions.

  The firelight behind her illuminates the broomstick skirt she’s wearing. It moves like it’s caught in a breeze, one I don’t feel. Books still move haphazardly around in the distance behind her. A quick glance at Trent tells me he hasn’t stopped trying to knock her out. Allouette is less than ten feet away, but the darkness makes her seem farther.

  “Velcome,” she sings and then giggles. “Ve’ve been expecting you. Vell, ve’ve been expecting someone, and how fortunate zat it vas you zey sent. My job keeps getting easier and easier.” Allouette throws her head back, shrieking with laughter. “You’ve grown so much since zee last time ve met.”

  “We’ve never met,” I say through clenched teeth. “You must be mistaken.”

  She clicks her tongue three times. Tilts her head sideways. “I’m a Voyageur. I never forget an energy.”

  Allouette’s dark eyes skip to my team and then back to me. “You didn’t plan on leaving?” she says, sounding hurt. “Ve’ve only just been reunited.”

  “When is it that you think we’ve met?”

  She smiles at me in a pleasant yet sadistic way. A book slams into her back. It knocks her off balance, but not as much as I would have hoped.

  Regaining her composure she quickly masks her irritation behind a toxic smile. “I’ve allowed too many of you to live for too long. Any. Many. Miny. Mo. Vich. One. Of. You. Vill. Go…First,” she sings, pointing at a different person behind me with each word.

  Without a hesitation I take a step forward. Joseph’s fingers pinch my wrist. I tug free easily. “Get to work, Joseph. I’ve got this.”

  The hate I feel for Allouette is unnatural. I watched her torture Ren. I know she’s behind Aiden’s abduction. And that’s she’s a ruthless killer. For an instant I have a surreal moment where I can hardly believe I’m here with the opportunity to kill her. The idea doesn’t sound wrong. Nothing feels more right than to end her life, which I instinctively know has caused such torment and malice to the world.

  “It’s cute zat you zink you stand a chance against me,” she purrs, looking amused. “Maybe you should allow your brozer to assist you?”

  How does she know Joseph is my brother?

  “I didn’t need his help when I killed Zhuang,” I say, taking a step forward.

  Confused outrage riffles Allouette’s face. “Zat is impossible. He’s unstoppable.”

  “No, he was an overconfident madman who allowed me to get too close,” I say, shooting forward at a speed only owed to me because of Joseph’s proximity. Horror lines Allouette’s face as I feint low with my left hand, then punch her in the jaw with my right. Again my left hand comes around, assaulting her in the chest this time. I half expect my bracelet to have a similar effect on her as it did with Zhuang, but no electricity radiates between us.

  She stumbles back, clutching her ribcage. With a pained face she rubs her side. That’s not where I hit her though. The glint of metal barely registers before I unleash the escrima sticks from behind my back. I whip them around in time to knock down the first knife speeding toward my face. My left arm spins around, blocking another knife as it barrels at my side. In quick succession I stop the path of three fast-moving blades. They clatter to the floor, where they instantly rise back into the air and continue toward their target.

  Sweat pours down my face, my adrenaline working overtime as I deter blade after blade. I can’t afford for my reflexes to slip up even a tiny degree, but I’m not certain how much longer I can keep this up. And Allouette hasn’t even broken a sweat, only looks slightly irritated that none of her attempts have worked yet.

  Out of the corner of my focused vision I spy a book rise up behind her. It’s about the size of War and Peace. She doesn’t notice it until it crashes down on top of her head, sending her to the ground, the pages spraying as the book tumbles. I knock down the only remaining blade and make a rush. She rolls to her feet faster than I’d expected. Both of us are crouched low. A standoff. Gazes leveled at one another. From a far off crevice a knife floats up, gliding into her hand. A lethal smile unfolds on her mouth right before she lunges at me. The knife grazes my chin as I simultaneously step back, sending an escrima stick into her torso, knocking the wind out of her. A quick step places me behind her, and with my opposite arm I pull the escrima stick down on her throat until she buckles backwards and down. I step back as she falls. A crack accompanies her landing.

  Without a moment to spare I sprint toward the hole my team has made in the cave wall. Everyone but George has crawled through the opening to the other side. He’s waiting for me at the top of the pile of rubble, arm outstretched. “Come on, Roya. Hurry.” I glance back at Allouette, who appears incapacitated. My feet slip several times, but I maintain traction and reach George easily. His hand is firm when he catches mine, his grip urgent. In one swift moment he wrenches me up the pile of rock and propels me toward the hole. I should be the last to go through, but George is forcing me through with such power I don’t have a moment to argue. I slither through the hole, feeling jagged pieces of rock poke me but unable to penetrate my armor.

  A flash assaults my vision. Quick and vivid. Regret fills my being. In the vision Allouette stands with a long, wavy dagger—her focus directly on George. Only fifteen feet separate them. He squares his shoulders at her, a look of resilient determination on his face. With her free hand she pets her scalp, then a fresh wave of anger flashes across her face as she looks at the blood oozing off her fingertips.

  Released from the flash I reach through the hole grasping George with a newly inspired strength. I consider breaking away parts of the wall with my fist to get him through quicker. “Help me,” I call to my team at my back. Joseph runs forward,
trying to help maneuver George’s broad shoulders through the narrow hole. “Push, with your feet on the count of three,” I order. His face is red, pressure exerting in every ounce of his body. I reinforce my grip on his arm, making sure it’s tight. “One. Two—”

  “Oh good, zey left me someone to play wiz,” Allouette’s voice squeals with evil delight. My eyes widen. I fight harder to get George through, but he’s resisting. He pushes me off him and slithers back the other way.

  “No,” I mouth. He shakes his head at me once before standing up to face Allouette. I stick my head through the hole and past George I see her paper-white arm as it extends. A curvy dagger soars through the air and lands lightly in her hand. I already know what’s coming next, and I have to act fast.

  “Trent, get over here,” I call urgently.

  Without hesitation he takes up the spot next to me, our heads pressed close together as we peer through the hole. “You have to help him. Don’t let him get hurt.”

  “I’m on it, boss,” Trent says, narrowing his eyes at Allouette.

  She holds up her hand dripping with blood, eyeing it with disgust. “Someone vill pay for zis, of zat I’m sure,” she says and wipes the blood from her head injury down both her cheeks.

  Trent gives a shiver beside me. “Damn, that girl is f-ing loony.”

  The next surprise happens when George speaks. His voice is oddly calm and low. “What if I told you I could help you? Help you extinguish the raging fire within you?” The rocks slide under George’s feet.

  She quirks an eyebrow. “I’m listening like a good girl.”

  “Within you there’s a battle going on, but you can stop it.” There’s a painfully long silence as Trent and I stare through the hole, watching.

  “And you’re going to ’elp me, is zat right, pretty boy? How?”

  “I can illuminate a path for you.”

  “Oh, zat sounds very tedious. Maybe you should take off your shirt vile I zink about it? Zat will make target practice more interesting.” Allouette spins the dagger around in her hand, then points the tip at George.

  “Wait!” he urges. “I feel the anger and know how much pain it causes you. It’s what makes you squeeze that handle so tight your fingers hurt. Your fury consumes you, making you feel out of control. You feel you’re burning alive. You feel you’re carrying an ax in your chest.”

  Allouette lowers the blade a few inches, her black eyes bearing a sudden heaviness.

  “I would agree that this level of emotions would make anyone crazy,” George continues, sounding more confident. “But to cause pain just so you don’t feel it anymore isn’t the way. No one misunderstands you better than you. Each time you hurt someone you create more traumas within yourself, which perpetuates this vicious cycle.”

  Trent and I exchange confused expressions. Then Allouette puts her blood-covered hands to her face and begins to sob. Again I look at Trent and his expression shows that he’s just as bewildered. From behind her hands, Allouette gives a long moan, followed by another loud wail. Then she lowers her hands and unveils a venomous smile. Her teeth are thin and long.

  “Nice try, Freud. Did you really zink you’d use words to zave yourself? Zat’s charming, and devastatingly naïve,” she squeals in her girly voice. “Unfortunately, all your babbling bored me. I vas going to do zomething really naughty, but now I’m just going to kill you.” She winks, then pulls back her arm and throws the dagger at George. It races through the air and when it’s five feet from him, it freezes. I turn to find Trent deep in concentration.

  “George, get through here now,” I whisper through clenched teeth.

  He turns and moves for the opening. When his foot takes the second step the rocks underneath him give way and he slides to the bottom of the pile.

  Oh shit.

  Trent tries to turn the dagger around in the air, but Allouette resists. Watching the curvy blade hover in midair chills my core. It turns a quarter of an inch, then swivels back. The blade launches forward a foot and my heart leaps. I’m about to dive through the hole to help George up the pile when Joseph’s voice accosts my attention.

  “Sis,” he says with an edge, “we’ve got company.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Joseph stands a few feet away, a worried glare directed at a hole in the ceiling of the cave. Streaming through it is morning light and little black dots. I narrow my eyes, forcing them to focus. This room is easily the size of a cathedral and reminds me of one too. The hole is maybe a hundred feet high and to my horror I realize these creatures are not little. One flies down in the stream of sunlight. It’s an enormous black bird, double the size of a normal crow.

  Urgently I turn back to Trent, who’s deep in concentration battling against Allouette. George has made some progress, but is still ten feet down the slippery slope. Torn between my urge to help him and my instinct to investigate the newly arrived birds, I stand motionless. George pins a quick look on me, fingers digging into the broken rock. “Go, Roya. I’m almost out. Trent’s got my back.”

  “Okay. Be fast,” I encourage and turn at once, directing my attention to the bright room behind me. Several aquamarine ponds are scattered throughout the space. Stone paths snake between the various pools. They appear to be worn down the same way ancient staircases are. On the opposite side is another entrance. “Joseph.” I nod my head in that direction.

  “Yep, I’ve got that one covered,” he says, carefully negotiating his way through the stone path toward the entrance.

  “What do you make of those things?” Samara asks at my side, pointing towards the birds.

  “I’m not certain, but my instinct tells me to keep my eye on them,” I say. On my other side Pearl gasps when one of the gigantic birds lands and is soon joined by five others. They fight amongst themselves, pecking each other savagely with curved beaks. With a loud squawk one of the black birds takes flight again, soaring smoothly through the air. It circles above our heads, beady eyes fixed on us. I alternate my eyes between it and its companions on the ground, unsure where the real threat lies.

  Behind me Allouette laughs shrilly. It’s a long cackle, full of delight. Panicked, I race back in George’s direction. I’m halfway there when I hear the scream behind me. Dread freezes me in place and sheer nerve forces me to turn around. The large bird dives overhead, shooting at Pearl like a missile, a menacing look in its eyes. Pearl drops to her knees, tucking her head into her chest and covering herself with shaking arms. The gleam of the chain around her neck peeks out behind her hair. All at once I realize what the birds are after.

  “NO!” I scream, lunging forward and simultaneously whipping out my escrima sticks. The bird is too fast, too close. Its beak clips the shiny chain lying on the back of Pearl’s neck. Measured wing beats propel the black bird away. It’s already too high for me to reach. The sight of the long, silver chain dangling from its beak thins my blood. The possessed creature flies higher and higher, becoming smaller and smaller.

  I clutch Pearl by the arm. “Come on, you’ve got to get up.”

  Her hands rub her neck, which is already bleeding from the bird’s beak. Tears race down her face, a violent moan escaping her mouth. “My charm! It’s gone. Chase will get in my head now. I’m dead. I’m already dead,” she says in a tortured whisper.

  “No, he won’t,” I say, gripping both her arms. “You have to return to the Institute. Do it now!”

  “But—”

  “Don’t argue. You’ve got to get out of here.”

  She nods. “Okay, you’re right,” she says through ragged breaths.

  “Can I get a little help over here?!” Trent’s voice calls frantically. He’s perched over a blood-drenched George. My heart twists tightly, restricting my breath. Every single part of him appears to be injured somehow.

  As I sprint for him, everything speeds up. Pulse. Breath. Movements. “George,” I murmur, cradling his blood-covered face in my hands. His eyes flutter open only briefly. Consciousness is a luxury for
him right now.

  “I couldn’t stop it,” Trent says. I’ve never seen a more serious expression on his face.

  “You got him here. That’s what counts now,” I say, running my eyes over the multiple cuts along George’s face.

  Pearl drags up George’s armor. Breath hitches in my throat. Head swims. I almost lose it. There, lodged in his side, is the curved blade. Metal protruding from his flesh doesn’t compute. I continue to stare, disbelieving what I’m seeing until blood seeps from the wound and oozes down. This is bad. Extremely bad.

  “Trent, give me your bandana,” I demand, extending out my hand, not taking my eyes off George’s knife wound. The soft fabric of the bandana which was wrapped around Trent’s head greets my hand. “Thanks, now move the largest boulder you can to cover that hole.” It won’t stop her, but it will slow her down.

  George’s hand in mine is cold and wet with blood. I hover by his side. He drifts in and out of consciousness. Pushing away all the pain churning in this moment, I focus on Pearl. “Can you fix him?”

  For the first time I witness her face turn confident. Steadily she places her tiny hands on the hilt of the knife. “Yes.”

  “Good,” I say, the tears rising up in my throat. “As soon as you do then you must travel to the Institute. Okay, on the count of three remove the blade. While I minimize the blood loss you get right to work healing. One. Two. Three.”

  Pearl’s knuckles go white as she grips the blade, trying to free it from George’s body. He seizes my hand with an unearthly force, attempting to sit up. My free arm pins his chest down. Gurgled sobs, loud and terrifying, echo out of him and through the cave. And still his eyes don’t open. Still he remains locked in a fit of unconscious twitches. “Come on, George. You fight,” I whisper.

  The blade springs from his body, and Pearl falters back a foot from the release. Immediately, my hands press the bandana into the wound, which is quickly spilling with more blood than I thought possible. All the jerks and flaying have left George’s body. He’s officially passed out. Lost in shock. “Hurry, Pearl!” I scream, pressing every ounce of pressure I own into George. The crimson-covered knife clatters to the ground as Pearl moves back into position.