Lightning In My Wake (The Lightning Series) (20 page)

The air thickened in my throat. Invisible hands clutched my lungs and wrung them out until nothing was left of them or the rest of my chest.
A solidly monotone ring began between my ears and blocked out everything he was saying. His mouth was moving, but nothing could be heard but the alarm. No, this couldn’t happen. This wasn’t about me.

Like a vacuum, the selfishness was sucked away and replaced with my responsibility to Theo, once again. Maybe one day I wouldn’t have to remember to
not be selfish.

Was that too much to ask of myself?

“Colby, I’m sorry.” Those were the first words I heard after crawling out of myself.

“No,” I pulled him forward, gripping the collar of his shirt like it was the last raft in a raging ocean, “No matter what. No matter how hard
it gets. This time it’s going to be me who stands firm. This time, unless you want me gone, then you are stuck with me forever.”

Tears welled in his eyes and I realized that I’d never seen Theo cry, even after his brother disappeared.

“Sounds like bonding rights to me,” a baritone voiced entered our cocoon, uninvited.

“Is that what that was,” Theo questioned me in jest
, attempting to tickle my sides to drive his point in. But there was no jest in my intentions.

“I think that’s what it was,” I poured every ounce of intensity I owned into those words. If he didn’t believe me, no blame would be placed.

“If you speak those words, you shouldn’t think—you should know.”

“Then I know.”

Hazel entered the room next, and I realized how much I missed our privacy. Bonding ceremonies weren’t like human engagements. Males didn’t save up for extravagant rings and plan grandiose promenades of affection. They happened naturally and freely. And it made them more beautiful and honest than the most detailed, planned out proposal. Males didn’t have to ask for the father’s permission or jump through hoops. It was simply accepted that when a female chose her mate—then that was the end of it. Formal vows were often exchanged later on, but that one intimate moment could never quite be recaptured.

A female’s choice in a mate was never questioned.

And once their choice was made—it was solidified for life.

“There should be no
formal vows exchanged without Rebekah and Sable present. Don’t make me go up against the Prophetess and be forced to explain why we allowed this. I’ve seen that woman in action. She is like a vicious little dragon.”

Hazel’s honesty broke through the seriousness and we all laughed in comedy and joy.

“We will go tomorrow and speak to her before we return to Collin and whoever else is waiting for us.”

“That’s an excellent plan and congratulations.” His parents mentioned before taking their exit.

Chapter Nineteen

Theo

Bonding ceremonies should be overseen by the Synod.

Holding Colby like that, in the home of my parents, listening to her say words I thought I’d only hear through dire circumstances—I fell more in love with her.

There was something so pure and raw about her like this. It pained me to think
that being like this was uncomfortable. She still struggled with emotional displays. But a little discomfort in a relationship isn’t always a bad thing—especially for Colby. The girl needed to be brought down a few levels.

“I think you should go to bed,” I said as I squeezed her waist.

“Why? Come on, I just confessed my undying love. It was a breakthrough. Let’s flash to the Great Wall and let me shout it out!”

Leave it to Colby to have an emotional breakthrough in the middle of my existential crisis.

“Let’s wait until we see your grandmother and find out whatever in the hell I am supposed to do before we begin the shouting, please.”

She sighed, “I guess you’re right. Always playing it safe. Tomorrow, you will face the dragon lady, Rebekah. And we have to tell my mom. Okay?”

“Of course. Your grandmother loves me. In this relationship, she’ll probably be more concerned about you bringing me down.”

She feigned insult and then shrugged one shoulder, “Actually, you’re right. Goodnight, Theo.”

“Goodnight, Colby.”

The next morni
ng, my parents were all smiles. Colby had become a jittery mess like I’d never seen her before. In fact, I’d never seen her nervous about anything before. She always carried a charismatic version of pompousness that couldn’t be rivaled.

She paced the kitchen as I tried, in vain, to finish breakfast. I was taking my time on purpose, just using this opportunity to make her wig out a little bit more than she already was. It was ridiculous.
Every time she passed a different surface she would tap on it twice—once for her nervousness and once for her frustration with me for taking so long.

She groaned so loudly when I asked my mom for more orange juice that I figured I’d pushed her to the limit.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

“
Well, I’m glad the Synod wasn’t waiting, you’d be Resin ground meat.”

“Let’s go. You’re extra snarky today. Rebekah will get a kick out of that.”

We said our goodbyes to my parents and flashed to Rebekah’s kitchen. Rebekah didn’t have a phone, that being one of the modern day conveniences that she openly shunned, so there was no way of announcing our visit.

We flashed directly into her kitchen. She’d once told Colby not to flash into her living room because she often had canasta games in there with her friends and she didn’t want to frighten them. Colby agreed, not wanting to be the thing that put an old woman over the cliff.

Colby’s wake faded quickly, but
I could still see that along the edges of it was a tinge red. Colby’s wake was never red.

Something was very wrong.
 

Several sensations hit me at once. The first was the temperature of the place. It was wintertime in Louisiana and one of the reasons Rebekah agreed to move there after she was dismissed
, was the jungle-like heat. She often said when she got too cold that her joints rebelled.

It was cold as ice in the house.

Colby was stiller than a marble statue and she stared at something behind me. I turned, expecting to find a robber or something worse. Instead, I found she was staring at a half-eaten peach, perched alongside a paring knife—it had already began to spoil.

The thing about Rebekah was
she was so put together—nothing was ever out of place.

Colby screaming Rebekah’s name broke the silence. We didn’t bother to walk, we flashed throughout the house. Every room was checked in seconds except the bathroom. When we were kids we
’d called it the blood bathroom. Everything in the room, from the tiles on the floor, to the claw foot bathtub and even the toilet were bright, lure Snow White in three flat seconds, bright red.

We stood in front of the door. The door was shut. Colby’s hand shook so much when she tried to turn the knob that I had to help her with it. At first glance, there was nothing wrong. Everything was in place, just like Rebekah liked it. The stark white towels that so contrasted the red were all in order, the floors were waxed to a gleam—everything but the shower curtain.

The atmosphere in that tiny room palpitated with sin. A wickedness and sorrow thickened the oxygen and my throat closed a bit, wanting to keep the wretched air out. My heart pounded, expecting the worst.

Colby took one step toward
the bathtub and before I could stop her, she jerked it open, nearly ripping it from its keeper.

And inside was Colby’s grandmother.

The water that surrounded Rebekah matched the color of the red she adored so much. Her head hung back over the opposite side of the bathtub revealing a large gape in her neck. Her impeccable pearls floated in the red still water.

S
omeone had slit her throat wide open.

The edges of my vision clouded and my heartbeat drummed out the sound of Colby’s soul wrenching screams.

The Prophetess, the messenger, born to give our species divine direction and knowledge. It would take someone beyond reprieve, beyond forgiveness to pull off a crime so mutinous. It was a sign to me—a sign sure to hurt Colby—which was the same as slitting my throat.

There was no time for planning what to do next, the only thing left to do was catch Colby before her head hit the bathroom floor.
Because as soon as she stopped wailing at the sight of her grandmother, her knees buckled, as she apparently realized the truth of the situation. I didn’t think. I didn’t consider my options or weigh what was best for anyone in the situation but her. Grabbing her up, I pulled her against my chest and got out of there.

The first place I thought of was her mom’
s house. She’d want to go there. It felt like the situation was steering me—like I had no control over my movements or decisions. Straight into her bedroom I travelled—except in the irrationality of my motions, I landed right next to her dresser, and everything on top of it turned over in my haste. I set Colby down on her bed. Nothing was ever too much for Colby to handle—nothing.

Her passing out scared the hell out of me.

“What in the hell is going on in here, Colby?” Sable barreled into the room, guns blazing, until she saw Colby laying on the bed and me, standing there, looking like an idiot—or a coward, I didn’t know which.

“Rebekah,” was the only thing I could mutter and it killed me how pathetic I sounded.

With no hesitation, Sable was gone, leaving a scarlet and gray, with grainy notes, wake. Seconds later, she came back and for the next few minutes she and I stood in a stale silence. Her hair was disheveled and her eyes were already ringed with red.

“I can’t believe it.
” Colby’s mother murmured.

“It’s my fault,” Colby’s body wracked with sobs as she made the hollow confession.

We both rushed to her side, but she jolted upright, refusing to accept the comfort we offered. She wrestled her phone out of the pocket of her dress and shoved it into her mom’s face. “See? They summoned me yesterday and I ignored it. They told me. They told me that if I didn’t comply that they would…”

“What else, Colby? What else did they say to you? Why couldn’t you just have gone when they summoned you?”

By the end of Sable’s questionnaire, her hands were clamped down on Colby’s arms as if she could shake the answers to her investigations from Colby’s form. I crossed the room, stalking around the bed and put myself between them. I’d never seen Sable get even the tiniest bit angry at Colby. Even when she was in trouble, her motherly instincts were closer to friendly than maternal.

Death will turn any sane person to the other side.

I spoke to her as calmly as I could, “Sable, you know we can’t handle it like any other human would. They’re going to ask you about funerals and what your plans are. Call my parents if you need help. My Dad is good with the humans.”

Having a death in the Lucent ranks was a fickle business. Usually, we had the bodies taken to Portugal where we brought them to the original land that was once owned by
Xoana’s father. The female Lucents are all buried there.

“You’re right, Theo. I just—I never thought.
I can’t think. I don’t know how to.” She spoke in choppy nonsense.

“I know. We will meet you in Portugal. If I may have the honor, I will flash with Rebekah myself.”

“Flash with her?”

“I guarantee you, it’s perfectly safe. I swear I won’t let her go. This way, we can have the funeral as soon as you need to. I know Rebekah wouldn’t want you fussing over it too long.
She would reach down from
Paraíso
and swat you on the back of the head, for sure.”

“Okay, yes, okay.”

And in a fluster, Sable flashed to take care of Rebekah’s parting memorial.

Visibly shaken, Colby hadn’t moved from her spot on the bed.
I didn’t know about other people and the relationships they maintained with their grandparents. My grandparents were long gone by the time I was born. I did know that Colby worshipped the ground Rebekah walked on. In terms of people she revered and clamored to model herself after, Rebekah was second only to Xoana herself.

Sitting next to her, I tried to put my arm around her. I expected my strong, firm female to resist. Her sandy hair
was plastered to the side of her face with the glue of tears and any color in her blush had been replaced by the stark milk of shock. She leaned over and collapsed against my side and finally began to really cry. Before, her cry was the side effect of shock, but then, as her tears soaked into my chest—those were the real cries of complete sadness.

Being unable to console her was nearly unbearable.
She just cried and cried, while mumbling inconsistencies.

It was my honor to hold her while she mourned.

After an hour, she finally crossed the line between inconsolable and semi-coherent.

Something snapped inside of her.
Shifting away from me, she savagely wiped her eyes as if she had no right to mourn her grandmother.