40. Sione
Chapter 40
Sione
Kylian exits the room, brow furrowed and focus fixed on the device in his hands. He’s seemingly startled to see me when he pulls the door closed behind him and looks around the hall.
“Why are you still here?”
Unable to articulate the sensation—the certainty that I can and will be of service, just not yet—I turn the question on him. “Why are you still here?”
“Clean-up,” he deadpans.
Fair enough. I tip my head in respect. “I, too, am standing by for clean-up. But of the energetic variety.”
Kylian nods, as if he’s not surprised. “Kendrick told me you are into new-age, alternative medicine. He said he felt the best he ever has after you performed some sort of spell on him.”
I can’t help the grin that takes over my face. That “spell” was a simple reiki healing session as part of his recovery on day two of the Combine. Though I get the impression Kylian is not in the headspace to listen to me explain chakras and ancient healing modalities.
If he’s still helping Spence, he needs to stay focused.
“Thank you,” I murmur sincerely. “You are the sun of your cohort, Kylian Walsh, but you’ve also proven to be an essential star in ours.”
Light blue eyes search my face through square-rimmed glasses. “If that was a metaphor intended to imply significance, then Jo is the sun,” he corrects. “Always my sun.”
The frequency of his life force shines brighter now that he’s thinking of her. His dedication is admirable.
“Very well, then. You are the gravitational pull of your group. You are one they rely on to keep the planets aligned and the universe in harmony.”
His lips turn down slightly. “Do you always speak like that?”
“I do. Is that a problem?”
Levi has teased me for my flowery prose in the past. By the way Kylian’s words land, though, I worry there’s more than just unfamiliarity underlying his question.
He blinks at me before looking away. “No. It’s not. I just needed the assurance that the way you’re speaking is the norm. That you aren’t mocking me.”
“Never.”
Kylian’s frequency settles, my answer clearly satisfactory.
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
We stand quietly in the hall, sentinels hovering on either side of a portal, until Spence finally emerges.
“All yours,” he tells Kylian. I chance a glance into the room. It’s pristine, with no traces of life physically or energetically. A large laundry cart sits idly, filled almost to the brim with sheets and towels.
The irony is not lost on me. The unceremonious exit is valid in my mind’s eye.
Magnolia is gone.
Magnolia can never hurt Hunter again.
Spence turns to me, eyebrows raised. “There’s an empty ward two floors below us. It’s part of an upcoming remodel. I thought perhaps we could retire there until the timing aligns for us to join the others.”
With a nod, I extend one arm, signaling for him to lead the way.
We walk in silence, no words exchanged, but with each and every step, the leaded weight of what he’s just done bears down on his soul more heavily.
By the time we travel down an empty stairwell, find the deserted hall, and select a vacant room, Spence’s subtle body is weeping from exertion. His mind and spirit are so bleak they’re no more than a dim flicker.
Instinctively, I rest my palm on his back, guiding him to the single bed in the middle of the sterile environment.
“Lie down,” I implore.
Once he’s supported by the mattress, I close the door, block it with a chair, and quickly grid the space.
“For the collective good of all beings.” I trace the reiki symbol in front and above me before repeating the universal activation phrase three times.
“What are you—”
“Shh,” I soothe. “How do you feel?”
He swallows hard, the sharp angle of his throat bobbing. He’s fighting it. Resisting the despair he needs to process before it takes root in his soul.
“Tired,” he finally admits.
He’s chosen the most palatable description. Defeated, thin, wrecked, or raw are all equally fitting.
“Lie back, brother. Rest. I can help, if you’re willing to accept it.”
His back meets the mattress once more, but he keeps his head propped up, his exhausted eyes watching me with hopeless vacancy. “How?”
“May I enter your energetic field?” I ask.
He murmurs a “yes,” then tips his head back and closes his eyes.
The moment I insert myself into his aura, I’m engulfed in pain. He tries to fight it, to bury it deep, but it’s there. It’s all-encompassing.
Power. Control. Dominance. Pain.
Influence. Clout. Charisma. More pain.
All parts of his being have been stained. All aspects of his brilliant mind are warring against the experience he just endured.
His soul is sobbing. The chakras from his third eye to his solar plexus are congested.
“May I put my hands on you?”
He agrees easily, his subconscious speaking now. His physical body is finally resting, his eyes dancing behind closed lids as his consciousness fights to catalog and protect him from the horrors he committed.
I start at the top, channeling energy through my being with the intention of empowering him to feel and heal. I follow my typical flow, moving my hand placements down his body when I feel called to do so.
When my palms connect with his rib cage, there’s clear conflict.
A searing hot resistance burning deep in his solar plexus.
“You’re blocked.” Eyes closed, I channel more energy into the space where his rib cage ends.
“I know.” He sighs. “It’s stuck.”
Affection warms me. He’s not the powerful CEO, the dominant lover, or the aloof alpha male I’ve grown to know and tolerate.
In this moment, he’s simply human.
“Keep breathing,” I encourage.
He does. I do, too.
Several minutes pass. Sweat gathers on my brow. A single drop rolls down my neck. Then, finally, the energy I’m channeling through him unblocks the release.
Spence sucks in a sharp breath. He responds beautifully to the dislodgement. The emptiness in his chest fills with light, love, oxygen, and hope. Positive and neutral energy illuminate him from the inside out. Every time the healing light touches the darkness that remains, it flows around it like a gentle caress. I’ve never witnessed anything like it. The lightness doesn’t absolve the dark. Instead, it accepts it and accommodates it.
It makes sense. The darkest parts of him are still worthy of light and love, because his murkiest morals and darkest deeds only exist in the interest of the highest good.
He gasps, his chest shudders, and then his body goes still.
I observe him for a few more minutes, ensuring his spirit is sated and that I haven’t missed any tears in his aura. Once I’m satisfied that I’ve done all I can for now, I tell him, “I’m exiting your field,” and do just that.
His breathing deepens, but he makes no attempts to sit up.
When his eyes blink open, solidarity and understanding pass between us unlike never before.
I’ve witnessed the darkness inside him. It’s there, and there it shall remain. Its presence is intentional. Purposeful. Beautiful, even.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I let the question linger. It’s vague, the it , by design. What he did and how he did it. What he felt and what he’s feeling now. My goal in this moment is to support him in any way I can.
“There was—there was this light. But it didn’t glow. It was murky green, like the dying light of a neglected antique. It was right here.” He presses his hand to his sternum.
Humming, I nod once. “I felt it, too.”
“I think it left,” he muses, clearly still out of it.
“It did,” I assure him. “It left, and it’ll never return. We’re safe, Spence. We’re safe because of you.”
His eyes well with tears as he receives my message and accepts it for what it is: immense gratitude and pointed assurance that although what he did was wrong, he did the right thing for his family.
Eventually, he collects himself and dons his usual armor.
“We have to wait here until morning.” His tone is authoritative, his chin lifted and his eyes piercing.
I take his hand in mine. “Sleep. I will sit guard. Nothing physical, spiritual, or otherwise will harm you while you rest.”
With one last flash of vulnerability, he whispers, “Thank you.”
His eyes are already closed when I reply.
“Rest easy, brother. The worst is over now.”