Ellucid (Ellucid #1) ★

Nine

"How long was I in the hospital wing?" I ask as we start down the hallway. The sun is setting, and bright yellow and orange rays stream through the gaps in the blackout curtains. Not for the first time, I want to yank away the darkness and see the city on the other side.

Emery guides me around a turn. The sprawling lobby looms in front of us. "Only for a few hours. The anesthesia wears off pretty quickly." He pauses to study me, his amber eyes flickering over my face. "Are you sure you're okay? You still look pretty pale."

"Is it normal to have dreams that feel really real during the procedure?"

"I wouldn't know. They've only done the procedure a few times, and I've never to talked to anyone who's had it done."

I chew down on the inside of my cheek as we cross the lobby, heading towards the glass staircase. People have been messing with my head so much the past few days that I wonder if this dream is the same. But I distinctly remember: the clock in my apartment had been clear, not colored. And since my watch was blue when I controlled my dream and green when Nathan controlled it, I'm pretty sure no color means nobody's inside my mind.

Something caused that nightmare, though. Was it the way I left things with Asher? Remnants of guilt and confusion?

"Hungry?" Emery interrupts my thoughts. "They didn't feed you, did they?"

"No. I snuck out."

He smirks. "We'll stop by the cafeteria first, then. It's dinner time, so they'll have the good stuff out."

He climbs the staircase and I follow, putting my foot on the first step. It's trippy to look down and see the lobby beneath me—the glass isn't even smudged, and there's no indication that anything is supporting my weight. I test the next step gingerly before treading onto that one, too. It feels like walking on air.

Soon the fear changes to a jolt of thrill every time I'm on a new step. The staircase looks like it could go on forever—it probably twists all the way to the top of the building—but Emery steps off onto the first landing.

"You a taco person?" he asks, shoving open one of the big double doors in front of us. Unlike the other doors in the building, these handles are clearly visible: they're sleek and glassy, mirroring the staircase. Flecks of light from objects surrounding us—a red poster highlighting cafeteria hours, a green potted plant—reflect and bounce off the handles.

"I'll eat whatever."

The cafeteria's enormous—there have to be at least thirty circular tables but almost all of them are empty, their chairs pushed in. A buffet runs along the right side of the room, unmanned but lined with delicious-smelling food. I smell the spicey zest of salsa from here.

"How many people work here?" I ask.

Emery lets the doors fall shut behind us. "Not too many for now. Hopefully we'll get enough people to fill the space soon."

I lead the way through the room, eager to explore the tantalizing options. There's not too much to choose from, but it all smells incredible. I drop a soft taco on a clear plastic plate and heap it with an assortment of fillings. Beside me, Emery does the same.

"Do we have to pay?" I ask after I fill a cup with water from the tap.

He shakes his head. "Meals are free here. Go pick a table."

There's a group of people in yellow cleaning staff uniforms near the center the room, so I pick a table a few away. Emery plops down across from me, stuffing tomatoes back into his taco.