Chapter 28 Exposed and Erased
EXPOSED AND ERASED
Icurse as I flip through my bathing suits for a third time. Even in my newly perfected skin, I find ways to feel self-conscious. I slip on a teal bikini that, like the others, fits me perfectly.
As I check my reflection a final time, I send out a silent prayer that someone will crack the pool again and send Scarlet home early.
Griffin waits outside my door, arms crossed over his bare chest, obscuring my view of his runes. Heat coils in my chest and core, my pulse racing. My breath catches as his eyes burn into me with a longing so potent, I’d swear it was my own.
A door closes, snapping my attention to Kai, whose room is across the hall. I still don’t know which door belongs to the other four. His shorts are neon green, playful, and loud—nothing I attribute to him.
“Ready?” he asks, looking at Griffin, not me.
Not even a little.
Griffin nods me forward. Nerves cascade down my spine as we make the agonizingly long walk to the side yard, where I find not just Holden, but Lochlan and Daire as well, already in the springs, making it feel entirely too small.
My gaze bounces across the sea of bare skin, bulging muscles, and swirls of ink, trying to find a safe place to land.
Daire stands, offering his hand to me. My pulse races, noting how his navy swim shorts cling to his thighs and the prominent bulge that takes every ounce of my focus not to stare at.
I don’t need help getting in, but the sight of his imprint sends a pulse of undiluted happiness and relief, and I accept. His fingers tighten around mine briefly before loosening as I step into the heated water. I settle beside him.
Griffin climbs in beside me, our sides brushing. The contact steadies me as much as it unravels me. “Is it too warm?” he asks me.
“Scarlet lowers the water while they’re in here,” Holden shares.
I’m shocked that he knows this detail when he hasn’t been outside since that initial day.
“Your powers are at zero again,” Lochlan says, drawing my attention across the tub, where I take in far too much of his sculpted chest. “Are you drained? Did you use your elements?”
“She’s been at this level all week,” Holden says, shaking his head. “I have no idea how she shuts it off. It’s as though she’s shielding, but I can access her thoughts.”
I stare daggers at him. He has no idea what a boundary is unless he’s establishing it.
“We fucking talked about this,” Daire says.
“Whether she’s a victim in this or not doesn’t change the fact that she’s a stranger, capable of destroying everything we know,” Lochlan interrupts, draping both arms along the back edge of the springs.
I don’t want to be the victim in this story any more than I want to be its villain.
Griffin shakes his head, meeting my gaze. “You won’t be.”
“She won’t be what?” Kai asks.
Mortification chews on my stomach. I’d forgotten how easily my thoughts pass to Griffin.
“Keeping Lyra out will be difficult, and likely make her suspicious,” Griffin says, ignoring Kai’s question. “We’re going to try teaching you to establish a secondary shield today.”
“A secondary shield?” I ask, baffled since they don’t think my primary shield is effective.
“Think of it like designing a maze,” Daire says, running a hand through his dark hair. “You build diversions—barriers, false trails—so the one mindwalking wastes energy and gets distracted.”
“You’ve done this before,” Kai tells me. “Whenever you alter or stop a memory, you’re creating a new shield.”
“She layers her shields?” Accusation coats each of Holden’s syllables.
“Would you like to see how proficient I am at it?” I drawl in a tone far too similar to Lochlan.
“It’s unintentional,” Kai says, rubbing the back of his neck, a habit I’ve realized occurs when he’s annoyed, because he does it constantly while we’re practicing shielding.
“This won’t work, though,” he continues.
“She can’t place secondary shields fast enough, and usually ends up reverting to the memory she’s trying to avoid. ”
Indifference consumes me as I flick my gaze to Holden.
“Still,” Daire says, “she’s erecting secondary shields without intending to.
It took me years to raise a secondary shield.
” Though he doesn’t smile or set his hand on me like I want expect him to, his tone is patient.
Kind. “This time, when you’re setting your shields, instead of blocking all your thoughts, allow some of the ones that you don’t mind sharing outside of the shields.
Think about the weather, what you had for breakfast, a class—anything that won’t distract you. ”
“Kai, you should do it. She’s used to working with you,” Griffin says.
Kai stares at me, waiting.
My thoughts are a jumbled mess as I try to recall Daire’s instructions.
“Stars. Focus,” Kai says.
I pull in a breath, trying to recall Professor Hammerstad’s instructions to clear my mind before he leads us in meditation. Slowly air expands my stomach.
“Add a few more memories. Things from your time on Earth,” Kai instructs.
The thought of my childhood house—the porch dotted with fat pumpkins, bumpy gourds, and dried cornstalks—is so real that I feel the icy breeze that arrives every autumn, smell the acorns and dying leaves.
More memories follow: me with our neighbor Letty, acting childish as we splashed in puddles, her shrieks of giggles so bright my heart sings.
Basketball practices, the hallways of my high school, hours studying, cooking dinner, and stocking shelves at the grocery store.
“There,” Kai says. “Now, anytime you feel a breach, focus on one of these memories while establishing a new shield.”
The assault on my shields is swift and immediate. I’ve barely replaced it before it’s gone. And another. And another, until I’m tumbling through the lake, uncertain which direction the surface is. My eyes and lungs burn as panic consumes me like I’m in that lake, drowning all over again.
The memory ends abruptly. A breeze tangles in my hair, reminding me I’m safe.
“Try again.” Kai’s tone is surprisingly patient.
I numb the fear the memory dredges up like a fresh wound and reach for the same safe, benign images. I set my shields and nod to confirm I’m ready.
This time, it takes longer for Kai to breach my shields, but in my efforts to avoid the lake, I’m instead in the back seat of my dad’s car as he screams about my failed potential after a basketball game.
It’s a memory I haven’t thought about in so long that I once again find myself distracted, his hurtful words ripping at the scabs of inadequacy that have festered most of my life.
I finally manage to shield the memory, but rather than leading us to one of the benign memories, I’m back in that same backseat as my dad pinches the bottom of my thigh, twisting the sensitive flesh because I’d been talking too loudly, distracting him and causing him to take a wrong turn.
Pain burns through my leg as I actively work to shield, relieved only for a second when my next memory isn’t of being in that damn car before I’m hiding in my bedroom closet, my hands significantly smaller.
I don’t remember if I’m eight or nine, only that I need to hide.
Heavy footsteps echo loud as claps of thunder before my closet door is ripped open and my dad towers over me, face red and contorted with anger, before dragging me out by my hair.
The memory ends as suddenly as the drowning had, bringing me back to the present, only this time, I’m cold down to my bones, angry, and resentful, as shame colors my cheeks. I avoid meeting Kai’s heavy stare.
“How’d that round go?” Daire asks.
“We should take a break,” Kai says.
“Lyra won’t give her a break,” Holden says.
I square my shoulders, determined to prove him wrong. “I’m ready.”
Kai shakes his head, standing. “Fuck this. I’m not—” He kneads the back of his neck again, causing the muscles in his biceps to ripple.
“If I mindwalk, it might work,” Lochlan says, startling my attention to him.
“No.” I’m not about to invite him into my head.
“I can guide you,” Lochlan’s voice isn’t kind, but it isn’t a jeer. “Show you where and how to set your shields. It will be a hell of a lot faster and easier than running through it blindly a million times.”
“If you cross a line…” Griffin’s warning draws Lochlan’s gaze.
“Where’s that confidence that I can’t harm her?” he taunts.
Daire swears. “Brielle, it’s your call. But if you let him in, he’ll be able to more than see your memories, he’ll be able to feel your emotions, hear your thoughts.”
Lochlan’s silver eyes lock on mine, goading me, I have no doubt. I wonder if he can wipe my memories. If I want him to.
“Let’s just keep practicing,” Griffin says.
“No. If Lyra’s as skilled as you all say, I need the help.” Maybe I’m flirting with death. Maybe I’m exhausted of being afraid.
“Don’t push things,” Griffin warns Lochlan again.
Lochlan doesn’t respond but his jaw feathers and there’s something unreadable in his expression that twists and coils in my stomach.
Do you sense me?
My eyes widen as Lochlan’s voice plays directly in my head.
I’ll take that as a yes. He glances at Kai. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready.” He faces me again and swallows. Think of that bedroom you pictured—the one with the chair and books.
But I can’t, I’m too distracted, questioning how he’s talking directly to me and what he’s seeing—if I could speak directly to him or the others once I master my element.
Yes. He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask, realizing just how unfiltered this access is.
My heart thrums. A firehose of memories opens. Funny, sad, scary—I can’t focus on any one because it’s a barrage.
You need to calm down, or this will never work. Clear your thoughts. Focus on the room.
It feels like raking leaves as I clear my thoughts, stray memories being left for too many seconds, allowing Lochlan to see entirely too much of my life. Eventually, all I see is my old bedroom.
Concentrate on one item, he says. Imagine touching it. Feeling it. Smelling it.