Sprinting, Brokk ducked as the next wave of arrows came far too close. Thirty of Adair’s soldiers ambushed him, and he barely escaped with the goods. Pushing faster, the scene changed, the woods around him becoming ice incrusted, snow drifting down all from the now black clouds.
Stalling, Brokk looked behind him, the soldiers disappeared, and he was alone.
“Brokk Foster.”
A cold sweat coated his body, as Brokk slowly turned. Adair stood in front of him, his black clothes soaked in blood, his mother’s longsword, the Curse, grasped in his hand. A blood red cape was clasped around his throat, his eyes pitch black as Adair said, “You have failed. Do you know I relished in your friends dying screams? That each life I took, you couldn’t do anything to stop it. And now, I have come for you.”
He couldn’t move, fear rooted him in place. Adair stalked toward him, the snow falling heavier. Coming face-to-face with him, Adair breathed, “Goodbye, Foster.”
Brokk felt the steel slice into his gut, cutting through muscle, blood spilling. Dropping to his knees, he tried to stem the flow of hot blood staining the peerless snow, but his vision dipped, and the last thing he heard was Adair’s laughter as he died.
***
Awakening from the nightmare, Brokk’s scream was lodged in his throat. His room came into focus, the ice-covered forest fading away, Adair with it. Voices of the past whispered to him, bloody swords cutting through his memories.
The nightmares had always been bad. He was too full of secrets and war for them not to be. Every morning, he said his silent mantra, I will get through another day, and like every other day since Adair proclaimed himself king, he made himself get up.
Sliding out of bed, the morning light spilled into his room through a tiny window which he was lucky enough to have. With the previous day’s events fresh in his mind, he made himself presentable. He could feel the dry blood cracking on his swollen face, and staggering to the washroom, he washed it away, the clear water running pink in the sink.
Glancing at his reflection, short golden hair stuck up at odd angles, his buzzcut growing in inhumanly fast. Toned muscles roped down his arms, two scars along his abdomen where a dabarne had torn into his flesh years prior—an injury that even his ability couldn’t heal. All boyish features had longed disappeared, leaving no softness behind.
It was finally time to reclaim their land. Adair had taken too much for far too long. Whistling, he put on some worn black pants and a grey t-shirt, slid his boots on, and made his way into the hallway. It was a quiet morning, the distaste of their current visitor obvious. The few rebels Brokk saw on his way to Memphis’s suite kept their eyes glued in front of them, ignoring him blatantly. He had a lot of mending to do.
Sighing, he limped toward Memphis’s office, which thankfully was only a couple of doors down from his own.
Approaching the similar grey washed doors, he hovered, waiting a moment. He could hear soft voices from within, whispering back and forth fervently. Rapping his knuckles against the door twice, Memphis opened the door, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. Pale blond hair was slicked back into his usual ponytail, sporting the same black leather he wore yesterday. A shadow crossed his face, and stepping back, he let Brokk in.
“How is she? Is she awake?” Brokk asked.
Nyx stood in the corner of the room. “She’s coming to all right.”
“Nyx, please.” Memphis glanced at Brokk, he spoke to him privately, “She has regained consciousness much sooner than I ever thought possible. Nyx has been the only one with her so far, and you can guess how that is going. I say we go in together and see how much has come through. I am guessing a lot of the memories will still be unclear to her yet, so let’s go easy on her okay? As far as she knows, we have just abducted her from her home.”
He had the urge to roll his eyes. He knew that. Nodding anyways, he followed Memphis down the hall, his heart slamming against his ribcage. Maps and an assortment of books littered the floor, and Brokk was mindful to step around them. Memphis had never been clean, but Brokk kept the thought to himself.
Stopping at a black oak door, Memphis turned the doorknob. The door swung open, and they walked in, Memphis leading. Emory sat in the middle of the bed. Her green shirt and black pants were disheveled, her long hair was over her shoulder as she slowly took Memphis in. Anger lit up her green eyes as she demanded, “Where am I?”
For once, Memphis was at a loss for words; mouth hanging open, he scrambled. Brokk stepped into view, Nyx following. Brokk was about to begin to assist him in trying to explain this. But in a second, Emory’s face darkened, her reaction instantaneous.
Charging at Brokk, Emory screamed, “You!”
Dumbstruck, her scream cut into his core as he easily sidestepped her attack.
Memphis screamed, “Brokk, leave now!”
His body followed the order, his mind reeling. Walking out of the room, the door slammed shut behind him. Rooted in place, he listened for the after effect. Silence greeted him coldly. Frozen in place, he tried to calm his shaking hands.
Why would she want to hurt me? What just happened?
Closing his eyes, he counted to ten, steadying his emotions. It killed him to do so, but he backed away from the closed door and left the suite in hopes to find Alby. To try to make his friends understand his actions were the first step and to put back together the foundation they worked so hard to make.
Chapter Thirty-One
Memphis
The scream tore through his mind, and Memphis watched Brokk stalk out of the room, his hurt plain across his face. Glancing at the now panting Emory, her anger dissipated to confusion once more. Her movements were impatient when she perched on the edge of the bunker, cradling her head.
“Emory? My name is Memphis Carter. Do you know who I am?” He could feel Nyx’s eyes burning into his back.
Emory peeked up at him through her fingers. “I’m not going to answer that until you tell me where I am and why I am here.” Her voice was like crystal, smooth and commanding. The voice of a queen.
Guilt tinged in his gut, and he chose his next words carefully. “I realize what this is going to sound like, and that it’s insane. Brokk and I brought you here to our world. This is the Academy—our home. You came from Earth, but this world was your home first. Kiero. We grew up together. Your parents built our government, and a school called the Academy. To us, you are rightful heir to their lineage.”
Her mind was like walking on ice, too much pressure at once and it would break. Memphis had to dance around the edges, especially to protect what he had done. Softly, he asked, “How much do you remember?”
Her eyes were daggers, and she stood up. “Why should I remember this place? This world? You’re telling me that you just kidnapped me and transported me to another world? This isn’t freaking Star Trek! It feels like my mind is being split into two, I remember my life—going to work, my apartment, my friends—but now...” she winced. “Now it’s like someone has drawn back the stage curtain, and all these broken memories have come into play. I see myself as a little girl, and instead of being raised in an orphanage, I’m with parents. And we had abilities...like supernatural abilities. Which just proves that I have lost it, or you have obviously drugged me. So, if you’re going to kill me, then just do it.”
Memphis blanched from the pure venom in her tone.
“Show her,” Nyx’s quiet voice resonated in his mind.
Memphis stared back at Nyx, narrowing his eyes. He could gently feed more memories to Emory, it was the only way to make her see the truth.
Reaching toward her, he placed his palm against her temple. Her skin was cool and soft, and he could feel the adrenaline rushing through her.
“Get away from me, now.” Her voice hitched as he stared into her eyes, and he entered her mind. Her consciousness was a tornado, unforgiving and pure destruction. Memories, images, noises swirled around her mind, battling to find the truth. Each one trying to find its place once m
ore in the timeline of her two very different lives. It was like dropping a pebble into an ocean. Memphis watched his added memories fight against the tide of her consciousness. He relived every moment with her.
Brokk hugged Emory tight, messing her hair. She playfully punched his shoulder.
They poured over books long into the night, Memphis smiling at her concentrated expression.
Memphis levitating glasses in class.
Brokk shifting into a golden wolf, playfully barking.
Her parents, their classes together. And... Adair, quietly in the shadows, watching and waiting.
Everything abruptly went black. Furrowing his brow, he tried to retreat when Emory’s breath began to be labored. Eyes rolling into the back of her head, the whites showed as a slow trail of blood trickled down her face.
Panicking, Memphis reached out for Nyx’s help. It was as if they had been shut in a soundproof room, his own thoughts muffled. He watched as Emory’s body went ridged, and then a flurry of activity sparked, and all Memphis could do was watch and listen.
Emory tucked herself into bed, the soft glow of her cell phone lighting her room. Her head sank into the familiar curve of her pillow as she drifted off into sleep. Of course, it wasn’t long until her dreams took over.
She found herself in a dark forest, the trees thick and dense. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she took off at a slow jog, her breath coming in puffs.
“Em... Em... Emory.”
A soft voice called out to her, as a figure with long blond hair stepped out of the shadows. She ran to Memphis. The name felt like home. With arms wide open, she collided into his chest, burrowing her face in the crook of his arm.
“Em, help me.” His eye silently pled, then the world erupted into flame.
Screaming, she tried to reach out to him, but all that was left was smoke and ash. Choking, she blindly stumbled. Every time was the same. Tears streaming down her face, she sank to the ground waiting. He would come.
“EMORY!” Her head snapped up, and focusing, she saw Memphis moving toward her. She didn’t wait. Pushing off from the ground, she propelled her body forward, running as fast as she could. She saw the knife glinting in the filtered light, his golden eyes dead as Brokk stalked toward him.
“NO!”
But it was always too late. She locked eyes with him, and he smirked, revealing his pointed teeth, Memphis’s blood dripping from the knife.
She awoke—her scream caught in her throat. It had always been the same nightmare for as long as she could remember. Trying to still her shaking hands, she frantically glanced around the room, as if for thehundredth time, she could save this mysterious man, but she was alone.
Memphis came out of the vision with her as fast as it came, Emory’s body lying on the bunker, convulsing.
“What happened?” Nyx surged forward, grasping Emory’s body and turning her on her side to avoid further harm.
“I... Nyx...”
This was going to end them.
Nyx didn’t wait for him to sort out his thoughts. “Hold her legs down for me, will you?”
Numb and at a loss for words, he complied. Minutes passed before the episode subsided, Emory becoming still once more. Her skin was ashen, drained of any color.
“Is she okay?” Memphis asked, meeting Nyx’s deadpan glare.
“Minor injuries. She will be fine though. I am more interested in the fact that a couple of minutes ago, I couldn’t access her mind or yours. What happened?”
He could physically feel the heat rolling off her body in anger, radiating waves. He licked his lips. “I planted a few more memories trying to make some things clear, like we didn’t abduct her! Her mind Nyx...it’s at war. Things are becoming clear to her in snippets. Not all at once. She has some idea of who we are.” He shuddered. “In her memory, we were trapped in a dream. Her dream. Brokk and I were in it; Brokk was different though. He was her nightmare.”
“Why would she be dreaming actively about you two six years later, if you cleared her mind so she wouldn’t remember who she was?”
Casting his eyes toward the floor, Memphis was reliving a moment that felt like a lifetime ago.
“Memphis Carter.” Nyx seethed at him, and he felt her energy expand outwards, toward his mind.
“No!”
Throwing up his mental guards was a slap in the face to her, and cringing at the impact, Nyx staggered back. In the same instant, his bookcase started to shake, a cracked brown book started to float leisurely toward him. She caught it in a fluid motion, eagerly reading: Dreamscapes: A Guide for Telekinesis’s
“I never thought...” he scrambled.
“You never thought what, Memphis?” Her voice was a dangerous whisper.
“She is one of my best childhood friends. After I saved her, I studied how to place memories and images in another receiving party’s dream subconsciousness. I was fifteen and only tried a couple of times. There were too many unknown variables at play. She was in another world, for instance, and I didn’t even know if it would work...” His voice trailed off in the obvious answer.
Nyx’s face contorted, as she spat, “Don’t insult me, Memphis! Childhood friends? You are in love with her. I’m not blind, and neither is anyone else. You are going to condemn us all by being blind.” With a flick of her purple hair, Nyx strutted toward the door. She threw back one more remark at him, “I have to start my watch. You can babysit your dear friend here.”
With a click of the door, she was gone. Sinking into the nearest chair, Memphis was lost in the impossible. There was one key element he had kept from Nyx, but it seemed she knew all along—when it came to manipulating a dreamscape, one thing ruled: emotion. It formed the shape and being of what the sender was trying to convey.
Guilt made his stomach flip. It was a child’s jealousy; he so desperately wanted her to have an echo of him within her, and now, it was the only clear memory she had.
So far.
Angry tears stung his eyes, and Memphis chucked the book across the room. The minutes slipped into hours as he tried to figure out a way to fix what he had done. How could he explain to Brokk why over the last six years he had made sure Emory would be afraid of him- would hate him. In the dark corner of Memphis’s heart, the answer lay- if he couldn’t have Emory then no one would.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Emory
It was as if her body had been ripped into a thousand different pieces. Her lungs burned, begging for relief. Emory heard the soft crackle of fire. Her head was a spinning mass; it was its own continent.
Squinting, she tried to focus. Blinking slowly, her surroundings came into view. Her pulse picked up.
She wasn’t in her room.
She wasn’t in her home.
The metal world around her seemed to have one purpose. To keep people in. To keep her in. The last twenty-four hours rushed over her in a flurry of confusing memories. Him... Memphis. The name rolled around in her mind, familiar yet unfamiliar all at once. Her eyes flashed open, her heart thrumming with adrenaline.
Heavily, Emory sat up, trying to pull her thoughts together. For now, the room was empty, her captors gone.
Now. This is your chance to escape. The thought clambered through her wildly, and she acted.
Standing from the bed, Emory stumbled, her legs weak, her clothes dirtied. Breathing heavily, Emory ran to the door, pushing the handle down as it opened. Containing her surprise, she slipped into the hallway. What kind of criminals would keep their prisoner in an unlocked room?
Walking fast, Emory pushed the thought down, keeping her head down as she tried to locate how to get out of this place. The hallway was quiet, and Emory didn’t pass anyone else. It had to be late into the night, and she sent up a thank you to whoever was granting her such luck.
Trying not to run, she turned left, passing more shut unmarked doors, but slowly, the hallway slanted up. Heart pounding, her palms slicked with sweat as she tried to stick to the shadows, walking faster now
. Ahead of her, doors loomed, and panic bloomed in her chest. Running now, Emory tried to hold back the tears burning in her eyes. She reached the massive doors, pulling them open, and the night air slammed into her.
Gasping, she sprinted, rushing out into the rolling field. The air was brisk, a sweet aroma hanging on the wind, the crescent moon tucked in the midnight blue clouds. Ahead, a massive forest loomed, and she frantically looked for any sign of modern civilization where she could find help.
There was nothing.
A stitch laced through her side, and her converses lost footing. Emory slammed into the damp earth. Rocks sliced through her palms as she tried to break her fall, blood welling in the cuts.
Tears slid down her cheeks as she got up, whispering, “Keep moving. C’mon.”
Looking back, she expected to see the place she had been taken to, but dread pooled in her stomach as all she saw was open field—no sign of any building whatsoever.
“What the hell?” Emory whispered, fear making her thought process choppy. Sprinting again, she pushed toward the woods.
If she could at least not be captured by these psychos again, then she could find help. Sucking in deep steadying breaths, Emory pumped her arms, and broke through the tree line, not breaking stride. The trees were massive, towering up toward the sky, blocking out any moonlight.
Emory was cast in complete darkness.
Slowing her pace to a light jog, shivers ran up her arms, blood and sweat coating her exposed skin. There were no evident pathways, as Emory surged over the mossy ground, dodging roots sticking out and different brambles pulling and ripping at her clothes. Her breath came in misty puffs, as she headed deeper into the woods. The wildness of the forest pulled at something deep in her gut—she had never seen any place that wasn’t touched by humans.
Shaking her head, Emory slowed to a walk, pushing down the panic as she mused aloud, “They gave me drugs and must be on something themselves—obviously I’m not on another world.”
Heir of Lies (Black Dawn Series Book 1) Page 28
