Awake (Book 3)

Six

Being "dead" didn't absolve me of my paranoia. After all, years of doing one thing would beat out months of another. Not even Lucille could totally eradicate the compulsive fear and suspicion inside of me.

But there was one thing Lucille could beat into me. Over, and over, and over again.

Ruthlessness. Brutality. Rage.

They fueled her every day, and she bestowed that on me. Whether I liked it or not, over the last six months, all that anger demented some crucial part of me, and that was just how it would always be from now on. She'd left her permanent scars on my psyche, and I would have to live with it.

I would have to make it useful.

And it was useful, for instances like these, when I needed information.

The Prophet in the chair screamed, and I was sure she was uncomfortable with the hemorrhaging I was causing in her stomach. Blood pooled in her mouth and dribbled down her chin, painting her teeth crimson.

"Where is he?" I demanded, arms folded over my chest, perfectly calm. "Where are you keeping August Masterson?"

Apparently, though, Angel hardened the Prophets over six months, too. Even with Lucille I noticed they seemed tougher. More resilient. Less willing to give anything up.

Harder for me, worse for them.

She laughed, which was an abominable sound all things considered, causing her to choke on the blood in her mouth. "You're . . . supposed . . . to be . . . dead," she gasped.

"Surprise."

Her eyes narrowed. "I'll . . . never . . . tell you."

"Oh, I think you will." I yanked her hair back, forcing her to look into my eyes. The fear was more than clear, no matter how hard she tried to conceal it. Humans were funny things. I always liked to think about how none of this would have even happened if people could be accepting. If they had all let me go about my business as an experimental freak or whatever I was, instead of raising armies to take me out. Unprovoked, I wouldn't harm anybody. I hated hurting anybody, still, with every piece of me that died every day.

"What's your name?" I asked the female Prophet, seeing she was wearing their signature tattoo on her upper arm, even though she was relatively young.

"Mia," she relayed unwillingly, not able to exactly go up against my . . . persuasiveness.

I nodded. "Thanks." I perched on the motel bed, fully aware I was pushing it by torturing a person in a public setting, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Every second I wasted, August would be in graver danger. He could even be dead, and just the thought wrenched at my heart.

"Do you work directly for Angel?" I questioned, staring down at my grimy nails.

She snorted. "Of course."

"Fantastic." In a split second, I lashed out a foot and sent the chair she was tied to toppling over. The dull crack of her head hitting the ground would have affected me irreparably months ago, but not now. Not now.

"Tell me where he is," I demanded, voice dangerously low. "Tell me now."

Her face pinched with pain, feeling me in her head, pinging through everything that made her human; everything that made her sense and feel and hurt.

"Come on, Mia," I coaxed. "Come on."

"No . . ."

I stepped closer, narrowing my eyes, focusing with more intensity. "Come on, Mia."

And I knew the exact moment she broke, because it was like her mind shattered, and it reverberated through my entire being.

"Kansas," she heaved. "Just over the border from Blue Springs . . . I swear . . . stop. Please, stop."

The last shred of preserved humanity within me listened to her pleas, and drew back. She collapsed, blacking out, and I didn't blame her.

Time to prepare.

I relieved the Prophet of her knife and the small .38 in her shoe, tucking the dagger in my own boot and stashing the gun in the waistband of my pants, hidden by my leather jacket. I pulled my hair up in a ponytail and cast a fleeting glance in the mirror before tossing the room key on the unconscious Prophet's stomach and leaving.

Just over the border into Blue Springs.

Funny.

The place I was supposed to be all this time.

With that bittersweet thought in mind, I jogged to catch up to the boarding bus, mixing easy with the crowd of passengers, and when the driver said he was going in my direction, I hunkered down.

Nothing to do now but enjoy the ride.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The place was definitely creepy enough.

Angel's favorite places to occupy were all the same: slightly run-down mansions in the middle of nowhere that were eerie as all get out. This one more than made the grade, and despite the creepiness, an anticipatory thrill shot through me at the prospect of seeing August again. Six months. I was surprised the split-up hadn't killed me.

What he would think or even do when he saw me, well . . .

One problem at a time.

There was a surprising lack of guards around the perimeter, which was initial cause for suspicion, but then I remembered August beat me here. Before getting captured inside, he probably did a thorough check of the grounds.

I smiled, thinking about August in action, and then that smile morphed into a frown as the images of him killing people, torturing people, replaced it. Of course, I was no better.

Something inside all of us had changed, and I hoped it wasn't irreversible. But should it be, I prayed it at least wouldn't damage us forever.

If that happened . . . I didn't even want to think about it.

My body was far from tip-top shape, so I approached the building at more of a shuffle-limp. And, against better judgment, I hobbled right through the front door. Oddly enough, that wasn't what triggered the sudden alarm that blared through the walls, loud enough to split my skull.

It was me stumbling down the hall, tripping over my fatigued feet, slamming against a panel on the wall.

Excellent.

Prophets would swarm me any second, so I hurried down the hall, searching for August. There was no telling where he would be; probably some sub-basement if the place had one. Angel seemed to like those.

I burst through a door, following into another narrow corridor. Glass shattered on my right, and the high keening buzz of a bullet as it passed by my ear caused my hair to stand on end.

Ugh. Not good.

In the moment of silence that followed, I rose from my crouched position, expecting any number of Prophets to pounce on me.

Honestly, in that moment, I was ready for just about anything.

Anything but him.

*****

Not sure how I feel about this but eh.I know the chapters have been short, but I promise they'll get longer now that they're together again. I was going to take time to bring our two MCs back together, but I figured six months is long enough :P Hope you enjoyed! VOTE and COMMENT! Love you guys :D

-EJ