Ava Rising: Book 2 of 3

Chapter 2

The American countryside had passed by in a blur as Ava and Lucas had fled westward—alternating between napping and driving. Ava had chosen a roomy RV from the diner's parking lot for their escape vehicle after seeing the "Save a cow, eat a vegetarian" sticker on its windshield. They had spoken little after the diner, both intent on fleeing the demons haunting them, real and imagined. But after a day of near silence, Ava had calmed down long enough to start thinking about their next move. Between the focus in his eyes and his vice-like grip on the steering wheel, it had been clear that Lucas had some notion of a plan in mind. It had taken her another twenty-four hours to wheedle it out of him—he kept pretending to be asleep while she drove. Of course, she had known he wasn't. But she hadn't wanted to push too hard, not after everything he'd been through.

Finally on day two, he'd confessed his secret intention—he wanted to find his mother. The conversation had been nearly unbearable—Lucas almost breaking down several times as he explained that he needed to find his mom. That it was imperative he get to explain what he did and why. Given the haphazard nature of the their flight—stealing a new escape vehicle every couple of hours, scarfing chips and candy, and never taking their feet off of the gas—it had been as good a plan as any. But Ava had hesitated, until Lucas had sealed the deal by telling her his mother was in Australia. Australia—one of the last bastions of Gaia dominance. Lucas had explained that the Ares would be monitoring airports across the country, but might not be expecting them to pop up on the west coast—so far from where they'd last been seen. So they were heading for San Francisco. And then on to Australia.

Now she was curled up in the passenger seat of their newest stolen car staring at the moon—a gaudy exhibitionist preening against the stark landscape of the desert. She caught a glimpse of a sign welcoming them into Utah and realized she must soon take control of the wheel if she were still intent on her detour. The speedometer had inched upwards as they traveled. As the journey progressed Ava had regained some of her energy and by the look of the newfound flush in Lucas's cheeks, he had as well. With some of their energy returned, they could rely on superhuman reflexes as they careened along the highways. But a flood of renewed energy wasn't the only reason for their increasingly hurried pace. Ava could feel the anxiety seeping off of Lucas. It was filling the vehicle like a slow-moving fog, tendrils curling and searching and pushing at her—she felt herself gasping for breath against its claustrophobic force. She didn't want Lucas to know she was tuning into his emotions but she couldn't take it a moment longer. She pushed a button to lower a window in the car, allowing the soothing night air to rush in and cleanse the insidious fear. Lucas looked over at her and she smiled guiltily—it was clear from the embarrassed flash in his eyes that he knew exactly why she had rolled the window down.

Ava whispered to the wind, calling it to wrap itself around her head and face like a scarf. It would not be a sufficient barrier to block the emotions leaking out of Lucas, but it was worth a try. She had been attempting for days to shut herself down from Lucas's thoughts and emotions, to give him the privacy to grieve and process in his own way. But over the last several months she and Lucas had developed a unique emotional bond, borne of the intensity and polarized nature of their relationship, that allowed each to remotely sense the physical presence and read the emotions of the other. Recently it had even allowed Ava to pick up whole images and memories from Lucas's mind—the more salient the memory, the more intense the connection—like an antenna picking up the neighbors' cable TV. Since that terrible night at Lucas's, Ava was picking up not just the occasional thought, but a flood of unwanted images and emotions. More than once, Ava had woken up screaming from a catnap in the passenger seat—haunted not by her own thoughts but by Lucas's. She had lied to Lucas, saying that she was having nightmares about her family and Isi, unwilling to talk about the images that she had accidentally plucked from Lucas's mind. Gruesome images. In one, a blood-covered Lucas stabbed his father—particularly unnerving because Ava experienced the act through Lucas's eyes, seeing the rage and betrayal firsthand. In another, a group of young Ares circled a terrified little girl, who looked like a member of the Gaia, with cold eyes and knives held high. In another, Lucas's father drew a hot poker from the flames and pressed it into the skin of Lucas's stomach.

The double onslaught of her own emotions mixed with Lucas's was becoming too much. She could taste the corrosive quality of the guilt rolling off of Lucas and it left her nauseous. And fear, always the fear.

She knew Lucas must be terrified of the Makhai. And with good reason. The Makhai took their name from the ancient word for the Greek god of war's battle daemons—savage spirits that reveled in violence and bloodshed. They were the militant wing of the Order of Ares. Their goal was to wipe out the Gaia. And when Lucas had killed his own father, he had also killed the Makhai's leader, martyring him instantly. In short, Lucas and Ava were now on the run from a well-trained, iron-willed, dogmatic group of killers. The force of Lucas's fear was contagious—she too wanted to flee, to disappear from the grasp of these heartless warriors. But two things held her back. Two things made her sweetly suggest to Lucas that she take over driving and then wait for him to fall asleep before turning off the highway and guiding the car further into the desert. One was the knowledge that Lucas would have a much better chance of surviving the next several months if he could learn to master his Gaia powers. The other was the small object in her pocket, its warmth radiating through the material of her jeans—a warmth that seemed by turns sinister and protective. But she planned on telling Lucas about only one of these things and she knew he would be less than receptive, which is why she quickly and quietly parked and then moved catlike around to the hood of the car.

She stared intently at the machinery in front of her, straining to remember the rudimentary automotive lessons her mother had given her. Placing a tentative hand on the engine, she felt the gasoline shiver excitedly at her touch. She exhaled in surprise at the unexpected movement, checking quickly to make sure Lucas was still asleep. She shook her head; of course she should have anticipated such a reaction. Gasoline was after all a derivative of ancient plant matter. She whispered to the ancient life force, preparing to corrode the engine in front of her. At the last second she stepped back, her hands trembling. Whatever it was that had Lucas running so scared, had seeped into her own psyche—she wasn't prepared to leave the two of them alone, irreversibly stranded in the desert. Pushing back the fear, she quickly modified her plan. After a moment of toying with the engine she removed the spark plug and hid it behind a rock formation—nobody would be leaving this place against her will.