Chapter 29 #3
His light touch was grounding. That low, rumbling voice was also nice. He could’ve read me a terms-and-conditions page, and I’d have enjoyed it.
Focus, Rae.
I pulled in another breath, even deeper this time. Slower. To my surprise, the tension in my back started to ease. I slumped a little, collapsing into the couch.
“You’re doing great. Just like that,” Sky said, and in that deep timbre, the slight rasp…
I gasped when a faint buzzing vibrated up my arm, and I rolled my lips into my suddenly dry mouth.
“Doing okay?” Sky asked, fingers flexing on my wrist. The tingling stopped.
“Sorry,” I whispered, cracking an eyelid. He was studying my face closely. “That just felt weird.”
“We can stop,” he said, brows pinching. His grip loosened. “We don’t have to try this.”
“No.” I straightened my shoulders and squeezed my eyelids shut again to block out that concerned stare. “No, let’s keep going.”
“Okay. If you’re sure. If it gets to be too much, tell me. Try to relax.” His fingers slid over the soft skin inside my arm, and I fought a shiver.
Right. Relax. Sure.
Amelia had dragged me to enough yoga classes that I fell into diaphragm-focused inhalations easily enough. Now, if only I could stop focusing on the fact that Sky Acosta was holding my wrist and whispering like a sexy audiobook narrator.
“Keep breathing,” he said, and I resisted the urge to huff.
That faint buzz started up again, and when I forgot that it was being generated by the guy I’d been crushing on for seven months, it was actually kind of…soothing. Relaxing warmth. It didn’t hurt at all.
I lost track of the number of deep breaths I took. Gradually, I sagged into a hazy, tranquil slouch. This wasn’t so bad.
It wasn’t bad at all.
I’d almost forgotten Sky’s fingertips resting on my wrist. There was just pleasant heat. For the first time in…God knew how long, I felt peaceful. Like maybe the midterms bearing down wouldn’t be so bad and aliens weren’t that big a deal. Like maybe I could just take a quick nap.
I had no idea how much time passed. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours.
“Now,” Sky said eventually, from far away, “go back with me to the lab. The anthropology lab. Recall what you were feeling and seeing, and focus on the moment you touched the halix.”
The lab. The tablet. The white-hot fire. Electricity everywhere, and the mechanical groans of a robotic monster.
A thin thread of that relaxation unraveled. Frowning slightly, I summoned the memory. The rough, stone outer layer had sloughed away under my palm like sand sliding off that pulsing, amethyst-like core.
“It’s glowing,” I whispered. My voice sounded strange and slurred. Muffled. Detached, just like my mind.
“Yes. It is. You touched it.”
I bobbed my head in a jerky nod. “I touched it. It felt hot. And…my skin is tingly.”
“Yes,” Sky said, a note of anticipation bleeding into his voice. “Your hand was on it when it exploded.”
I stiffened.
That moment rushed back with jarring clarity. Like I was there again, living it. The blinding flash, the molten surge that melted into my hand and burned through me.
That light flooded in. Blinding white fire. Shapes. Glyphs?
Symbols I didn’t know. Somehow also familiar.
Planets? No, a planet. Blue, green, glimmering like a jewel in an ocean of glittering, unfamiliar stars.
A flash of silver.
Words. We’re here. Come find us.
Pain split my skull like an axe blow, severing the connection to the light, slicing through the haze. Full consciousness roared back, and with it, a red-hot poker jammed itself behind my eyes.
“Shit!” I cried out hoarsely, hands flying to either side of my head. It felt like my poor brain was fracturing into a billion pieces. I tasted iron.
“Raven!”
For a second, I didn’t know where I was or who was shouting my name. Only pain.
And then—Sky. That was Sky’s voice. Sky gripping my wrists in a near-bruising hold.
“Rae, you’re okay,” he bit out. “You’re here. You’re safe.”
I realized I’d been flailing and pushing at him, and I pulled back. When I peeled my eyelids open, I could make out his blurry outline over me.
“Sky? What…” I gasped. My face felt wet with perspiration. Or maybe those were tears. Hard to tell. I was trembling uncontrollably. “Was that supposed to happen?”
“No.” He was holding my shoulders now, fingers tight. “Absolutely not.”
That coppery tang. Oh. Oh, shit. That tasted like blood.
I touched my tongue to my lips. Sure enough, it was running from my nose and into my mouth. Possibly past my chin. A whole gushing mess of it.
Blurry Sky swore, releasing me and shooting to his feet. “Hold on. Stay here.”
“Not going anywhere,” I said through my chattering teeth. I caught the gushing flow in my cupped hand and curled forward, breath ragged. My vision cleared enough for me to make out Sky rummaging frantically through my kitchen drawers.
A second later, he was back, pressing something against my face. I reached for it instinctively. My dish towel. Soft. Plain gray. I’d gotten a whole pack on sale for three ninety-nine.
“Here,” Sky said, guiding my hand to the towel. Gently, he helped me press it against my geysering nose. “Tilt your head forward.”
“I thought it was back,” I muttered into the fabric.
“That’s a myth.” He planted his palm between my shoulder blades and guided me forward. “Like that.”
I doubled over and squeezed my eyes shut. “Was that…was that because of whatever you were doing?”
“I wasn’t doing anything at the end,” he muttered. “Once you were under and in the memory, I cut the current.”
He was rubbing small, soothing, and very distracting circles on my upper back, but I frowned anyway, adjusting my grip on the towel.
So if all this wasn’t because of his brain ray, what the hell had just happened?
I tried to think back, but my head rang like a giant warning bell. Shapes, color, light…
I’d seen something. Felt something. But it was gone now, buried in a haze of pain and buzzing dissonance. Like static.
“Are you okay?” Sky asked, an edge to his voice. The hand on my back stopped moving.
I opened one eye a sliver, breathing through my mouth. The morning light outlined him. His shoulders were tense beneath his thin white tee, and his big hand still rested over mine, keeping the wadded towel against my nose. His face was tight.
A flare of embarrassment crept in.
“I think so,” I mumbled, muffled. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? Bleeding?”
“It didn’t work,” I told the towel.
At least, if it had, I didn’t remember it. The eerie sensation of forgetting something scratched at the back of my skull, annoying and chilling all at once.
Sky’s incredulous huff was accompanied by a quick headshake. “Don’t worry about that, Rae. I’m sorry.” I slid my eyes his way again. He looked annoyed, but I didn’t think it was at me. His jaw flexed, and his lips pressed into a white line. “I shouldn’t have pushed that hard. Are you okay?”
Good question.
I assessed. The pain in my temples had started to recede. My nose didn’t feel as gross and gushy, either.
I gently disentangled my hand from Sky’s and drew the towel away from my face, grimacing at the deep crimson stain. That wasn’t coming out. So much for the three ninety-nine special. I’d liked that towel, too.
But when my nose didn’t spurt out any blood, I cautiously sat up. Sky’s hands hovered. A groove pinched between his dark brows, and he was a little pale. Maybe he wasn’t great with blood.
Human blood, anyway. Was Pladian blood red, too?
“Are you okay?” he asked, cutting into my disjointed thoughts. “Do you need something to drink?”
Yeah, maybe a shot of whiskey to chase some Excedrin.
“I’m okay,” I said instead, managing a wobbly smile.
The headache had subsided to a dull, pulsing throb.
Better than it had been, but pain medicine was definitely on the agenda.
I should have some in the medicine cabinet.
I’d been going through it quickly lately between stress headaches and going toe-to-toe with our Enil friends.
I sat up the rest of the way, and this time, Sky touched my arm to steady me, careful to avoid the bruises visible just beneath my sleeve. He released me as soon as I made it into an upright position, settling back on the couch beside me.
The room spun once, twice. The muted morning light felt too bright.
“You sure your neural whatever didn’t cause that?” I asked, tossing the towel onto the table and swiping my other hand through my hair. I probably looked like a not-so-hot mess.
“I’ve never had anything like that happen.” Sky’s scowl was etched so deeply into the lines of his face, it looked permanent. “But it doesn’t matter. We won’t be trying it again.”
For once, we were in complete agreement. I preferred my brain not leaking out my nostrils. I let out a noisy sigh. “Sky, I know you’d hoped I could…”
Recall something. Anything. And I thought I had—if I wasn’t imagining things—though, it hadn’t lasted.
I shook my head, rubbing my temple. “I thought it’d worked, but it’s gone. Whatever happened, it was like…” Like my mind was an Etch-a-Sketch and somebody’d just given it a shake.
“Like it’s too much for your brain to recall,” Sky supplied much more eloquently, his expression grim. “I think that’s exactly what just happened. The neural interface worked, but the memory was too much.”
My heart stumbled. That sounded…a lot more ominous than a shaken children’s toy. Did that mean I had some kind of ticking time bomb in my skull I needed to never, ever think about?
He held my wide stare, that calm, unreadable mask sliding into place.
“This may not have solved the issue, but I’m not giving up hope.
You probably don’t want to hear this, but I think this is just more proof the halix did what it was meant to do.
Something’s in there. We just have to find a way—a safe way—to extract the information. ”
I made a face. “Extract doesn’t have the best connotation, Sky. Especially after all…that.” I gestured vaguely at the bloodied dish towel.
He followed the motion, jaw ticking. “I said a safe way. We’ll find a safe way.”
I bit back another protest. After what I’d just experienced, I wasn’t convinced there was a safe way. But one look at Sky’s determined expression, and I knew he wouldn’t be hearing that.
Whatever had been inside that halix thing, he was determined to access it.
Which meant accessing my brain.
Restless, suddenly uncomfortable, and all too aware of how close we were sitting, I took a breath and pushed to my feet with the couch’s help. I needed some headache meds pronto—
As soon as I straightened, the world tilted. The floor gave a slow, undulating roll beneath me, taking my stomach and equilibrium with it. My knees melted.
But Sky was there, moving with that uncanny speed. Before I could draw a breath, he’d snatched me around the waist. Strong arms caught me against him.
“Hey,” he murmured. “Careful. Not so fast.”
I braced my hands on his chest. Whether it was the residual effects of what’d just happened or his closeness, I didn’t know, but breathing was suddenly difficult.
He searched my face, mouth drawn in concern. “You okay?”
The dizziness faded, but my pulse didn’t slow. I could feel the steady thud of his beneath my palm, too, and the warmth of his body against mine. He was so tall, my nose barely reached his chin.
His mouth was right there.
“I’m fine,” I whispered, dragging my eyes up to his. “Just a little dizzy.”
He watched me like he didn’t quite believe me. “You sure?”
I nodded. His grip didn’t loosen. He studied me long enough—intensely enough—that my cheeks heated.
“You can let me go,” I said, turning my face away. “I can stand.”
He didn’t, though. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.” He paused, and then muttered darkly, “Feels like I’m saying that an awful lot lately.”
It was enough to make me turn my head back toward him. Lines bracketed his lips beneath the shadow of stubble. That muscle fluttered in his temple. He looked genuinely upset. Stressed, even.
That was kind of sweet. I mean, considering it was the alien mess that’d caused all that in the first place.
“I’m okay, Sky. No long-term damage.” I tried to smile, but it didn’t quite form.
Because neither of us knew that for sure, did we?
The way he was looking at me told me he’d thought the same thing. His obvious worry sank claws deep enough I nearly shivered.
“You really can let me go,” I said again, emphasizing it this time with a light push against his chest. “I’m going to go wash up.” I dropped my gaze, unable to hold his searching look anymore. And stiffened. “Shit—Sky, I…”
I’d left a bloody handprint on the front of his shirt.
He followed my gaze. The dark smear seeped into the white cotton, a stark, spreading stain.
He loosened his grip enough for me to slip out of his hold, and he plucked at the fabric. “Least of my worries. I’ll change back into my shirt from yesterday. It’s fine.”
“Okay. Sorry.” He gave me a dry look—most likely because I’d apologized for bleeding again. I let out a breath, jerking a thumb toward the hallway. “Right. I’m gonna go…take care of this.”
This time, he let me go without comment.
A moment later, I was bent over the bathroom sink, scrubbing my face with hot water. Steam curled up around me, fogging the mirror. I stared at my blurred reflection, at my matted hair, pale skin, and the blood still clinging to the edge of one nostril.
I was fine. Of course I was fine. Bleeding and confused and brain-scrambled, but fine.
…right?
I swallowed hard and, for a moment, all I could see was the handprint. Crimson against white. Pressed to his chest.
It felt like a warning. A symbol of something dark and ominous.
A sign of what was coming.
And it didn’t bode well for either of us.