Echo Into Darkness: Book 2 in The Echo Saga (Teen Paranormal Romance) (29 page)

They had given me plenty: Mr. Crane's death, Luma's threats, and now Connor's captivity. The events fanned an angry flame, but it was no match for my terror.

Connor paced his cell, unaware of our battle until the swaying fluorescent light narrowly missed him. He dropped to the floor. His face blanched.

"Omigodomigodomigod," I wailed. Sweat drenched the back of my blouse.

"It's good he's down, Echo. That gives you more time," Ivan coached.

"Traitor," Luma hissed at Ivan. The ceiling inched lower.

"You losers want to pay up now?" Roth taunted.

"He was cute, too. What a waste," Luma replied.

"
No."
I put everything I had into that console and yet the course of the ceiling did not change. "Please, somebody make it stop."

The room was dead quiet.

Now so close to death that he could probably taste it, Connor looked into the one-way mirror and set his gaze on his hidden audience. His blue-flecked eyes were fierce and unyielding. At a moment when most prisoners would lash out in panic, he stared down his tormentors. His jaw held the strength of conviction, the courage of a fighter.

Behind that stormy, warring face, was tenderness that only I knew. A devotion that ran so deep, he had risked everything to search for me beyond the barriers of time.

My terror melted away and love flared, a roaring heat that rose high in my chest. It tore like a feverish passion down my arms, through my hands and into the console. The ceiling's downward progression stopped.

My audience erupted.

"What the—?" Luma snarled.

"No way!"

"Aw, crap."

"Yes!"

"I love you, I love you, I love you," I whispered, pouring every ounce of my heart through my hands. I imagined him stroking my hair, cupping my chin. Lowering his mouth over mine. The ceiling inched away from Connor. A chill of victory prickled down my back.

"She's got it!" Ivan shouted.

"Oh,
hell
no," Luma said, and she drove the ceiling down again.

For the first time, I noticed the grisly pattern spread unevenly across the white tile floor. Dark red spread in pools, streaks and splatters, not far from where Connor lay right now. The last person in this chamber hadn't made it out alive.

The fluorescent light crashed onto the floor and shattered. Connor shielded his face from flying glass.

I pulled up the memory of our dance at The Great Hall. Stars flashed across my vision, and new life force surged through my hands. The ceiling reversed its course.

"You got it, Echo," Ivan shouted.

"Come
on
, Luma," Jaxon whined.

She cocked an eyebrow. "You think you're pretty tough?" She hit another button on her console.

Four-inch long metal barbs emerged from the ceiling.

"And down we go," Luma said.

"No!" I shrieked.

The guys cheered and shouted obscenities. My ability abandoned me, leaving a hollowness that quickly filled with despair.

"Shut up! I can't concentrate!" I yelled.

Connor pressed himself against the tile, watching the barbs close in. He closed his eyes. Another foot and it would be over.

I bombarded my mind with memories of us—the first time we touched, the first time we kissed, the way he held me in the horse carriage. It wasn't enough.

So I dug deeper, to a place inside where I'd kept the truth of my gifts dormant, a place so dark, so swelling with power that I'd been afraid to tread there. There was no anger in that place, no room for hate or violence. Love stood guard, a divine protector. I reached down and opened the floodgates.

The room shook and furniture tumbled across the floor.

My body jerked in a spasm. Black spots marred my vision. Pain shot between my temples.

For a split second, the ceiling hung motionless. Then, Connor's room went black.

I was too late.

Chapter 34

I lay crumpled in the corner of my room, unable to stop crying since they had dragged me away from the testing center.

After Connor's cell went dark, Luma had cheered victoriously and high-fived the others. I'd flung myself at her and punched her over and over. The sound of her skin splitting beneath my fist was the most sickening sound I'd ever heard, but I couldn't get enough. I hit her until Keenan wrenched me off.

Luma's triumphant sneer—now crooked and bloodied—confirmed that I'd lost the most important battle of my life.

I had screamed all the way back to my room.

Time passed in an endless haze of heartache. Every few hours, someone dropped off a food tray. Based on the number of untouched meals sitting on the table, I estimated I'd been in the room for more than a day.

A wall of grey clouds sat outside my window, shrouding my view of the river. It didn't matter. My world had ended in the testing center. The moment that cell went dark, I could no longer allow myself to care about anyone or anything that existed beyond the walls of Feller Tower. Keenan had demonstrated his power, and the message was clear. He would take away whomever I loved if I didn't comply with him. To make matters worse, I'd revealed strength that I hadn't known lived inside me.

Someone knocked on the door and it opened a crack. "Keenan is requesting your presence," Ivan said.

"You can tell him to f—"

"Don't force him to come get you," Ivan said before I could finish. "You'll regret it if he does." When I refused to budge, the edge left his voice. "Please. You won't be sorry."

I followed him down the corridor, past the photographs of the celebrity Mutila, to a dining room. A table was set for three people. A lone figure sat with his back to me, his head curled forward in defeat. I gushed a sob.

"Connor!"

Connor lifted his head. His face was crusted with blood where the barbs had grazed him. Fluid from puncture wounds on his forearms and shoulders seeped onto his shirt. He didn't register me at first. When he did, his expression fell.

"They got you," he said. A lone tear rolled down his cheek. I had to remind myself that he had not seen me on the other side of the glass. He'd had no idea if Keenan was really holding me captive until right then.

Connor's arms were still chained to his side, but he took my hand. I cupped his in both of mine, tenderly, in case it was as bruised as the rest of him. He was cold, too cold, and the electric sensation that always coursed beneath his skin was gone. I worried that his injuries ran deeper than I could see.

"I screwed up," he said. "I came with Jaxon because I thought the faction already had you." He coughed, dry and hoarse. His breath was sour, from vomiting, maybe. I knew I would have, if I'd endured torture.

"It's okay."

He shook his head. "They used me to get you here. This is all my fault."

"Don't ever say that again. Do you hear me? They knew where I lived. It was just a matter of time."

With the lightest touch, I ran my fingers down his throat. It was the only spot of skin that wasn't swollen, bruised, or dirty. He didn't flinch, so I kissed him there.

He let out such a sweet sigh, I nearly broke into tears.

"I'll get us out of here," I whispered, if only to see the life come back into his eyes.

Connor untangled our fingers and slid his beneath my sleeve until he reached the raw patch of skin on my wrist. He dug his fingernails into my flesh—deeply—until they hooked onto the edge of the chip. Then he lifted the chip until it strained against the tender skin. I sucked in a breath. He locked his eyes on mine in a silent plan. He was prepared to rip the electronic device out of me, right then, if I promised to fight my way out of there and run.

There were a few problems with that scenario. Even if I could get to the elevator, I'd need keys to use it. Then I'd have to guess which of the key codes would take me to the ground floor. If I were caught, one of us would suffer for it. All of those barriers paled in comparison to the idea that he expected me to leave without him.

"Connor…"

"I'm not acclimated to your time anymore. If they don't let me go in the next few days…" his lip trembled. I rested a finger over it. I didn't need to hear the rest—that his body would eventually fail if he didn't get back home.

There had to be a way to get both of us out of there safely. "Contact the portal, get them to lock on to you," I said.

He shook his head. "This place is impermeable. No energy comes in, none goes out. And," he struggled to keep his voice steady, "I can't override the chip. You have to go."

He reached for my wrist again but I pressed his hand into my lap.

My brain spun and wove possible plans. "We'll tell them you need to get to a doctor."

"They have a medical team here. They're refusing to treat me."

"But why?"

Connor's lids closed. He shook his head once, such a miniscule gesture that I nearly missed it. He was keeping something to himself.

What good was it to let his wounds go untended? Infection would set in and he would become ill. He might die. Keenan knew this. There was a lot I did not understand about Keenan, but one thing was clear. Everything he did, or did not do, had a distinct purpose.

"They want me to see you like this," I finally said.

Connor gritted his teeth. "Keenan doesn't know where I'm from or what I'm capable of. If he did, he'd be using
you
to bait
me
. Do you understand? He's dangling my life in front of you to get you to push harder. When that doesn't work anymore, he will dispose of me."

Jaxon's warning came gushing back.
If you want to hear Connor scream, let Keenan find out who Connor really is.

I wasn't sure I believed that. "Tell them what you can do," I said. "Once he takes your cuff off, you can fight. You're stronger than all of them."

He pasted me with a look like I'd lost my mind. "Did you not hear a word I said? If I'm the strong one, then you become the punching bag, and I don't know if I can even…" It took all his effort to lift his shoulders in surrender. The chip, the beatings, and too much time away from his proper place in time had all sapped him.

"Jaxon is keeping my paranormal ability to himself," he continued. "Why, I don't know, but it's got to stay that way. Do you understand?"

Considering Keenan's policy of getting rid of people once he was through with them, I was betting Jaxon was using Connor's true origination as a sort of leverage. They might be foster brothers, but loyalty didn't seem to factor into their relationship. Information about the portal was probably Jaxon's last bargaining chip. He'd hold onto it in case he had to trade it for his own life.

Connor rested his forehead against mine. "I am going to die here. You have to let me help you escape."

I pulled his hand to my lips. "No deal."

Keenan marched in, his eyes bright. He had slept well last night. "Young love. How inspiring."

Neither of us answered. We didn't even raise our heads. Sitting knee-to-knee, holding hands, the Earth could have crashed into the sun and we would not have cared.

Roth came in with platters of food and set them in front of us. Then he dug a key out of his pocket and unchained one of Connor's arms.

"You two must be ravenous. Please eat. You've earned it," Keenan said.

Connor sprang out of his chair, aiming his fork at Keenan's throat. His injuries slowed him down, though, and Roth blocked the strike, holding his forearm high.

"Let Echo go," Connor spat.

Keenan touched a finger to his chin in mock contemplation. "Oh, yes. Consider it done. Perhaps we should put you in charge for the day? And then we can all join hands and sing the
Star Spangled Banner
?" He laughed, deep and feral. "I. Said. Sit."

Roth placed two fingers behind Connor's jaw below his ear. Connor reeled and fell into his chair. "My family will demolish you for this," he growled.

"Speaking of demolish, you should have seen the way Echo fought for you last night. She short-circuited the system, thus ending the match and blacking out your cell at the same time. When Luma found out she didn't win, she wanted to finish you off. But Echo has such an affinity for you."

Fresh realization dawned on Connor's face. "That was you?" He squeezed my hand.

"I tried to hold the ceiling back." My voice quaked. "She was so strong."

"You beat Luma." The corner of his mouth turned up in the tiniest of smiles. He began to pick at the food on his plate and nodded that I should eat.

My stomach grumbled. Butter and syrup dripped from the stack of pancakes. When I thought Connor was dead, I'd refused food, but now we both needed our strength. He was single-mindedly trying to find a way for me to escape without him. I had to stay sharp and figure out how to get us both out.

He and I were both right-handed, but I managed to eat with my left so we could hold hands under the table. As we ate, his body warmed.