Shine: The Knowing Ones (22 page)

Trin didn’t argue. Taking her hand, they raced out of the building, into the parking lot toward his truck. Once they arrived, Sam didn’t wait for him to open her door. He dashed to the driver’s side and got in. Pulling the door shut, he turned toward her to ask again what had happened.

“Go Trin! Hurry!”

He started up the engine, put the truck in reverse, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed out onto South Campus Drive, toward her place.

She sat in the passenger seat, unmoving, a dead stare through the windshield. Trin strained to read her energy, knowing she wouldn’t talk. Through her terror Trin could see her working, decoding what she had experienced. He drove in silence. He was convinced Sam had just teleported. This was not a lost ability; only one other person in Veduny history had ever done this.

Trin pulled into her parking lot and shut off the ignition. He looked down at the steering wheel and then glanced at Sam. “What can I do?”

“It’s there,” she said. She looked up at him, “the information we need, somewhere inside all of that horror and sorrow and despair.” Her eyes filled with tears. She gazed at the floor and whispered, “There is so much pain in this world.”

Trin remained silent, crushed, helpless. “Maybe you should tell me what you saw and we can try and decipher it together,” he suggested.

Sam wiped her eyes. “That’s a good idea.” She exhaled, securing her focus. “Okay,” she began. “I hit the ground. I was outside.”

Trin took her hand. “Don’t leave anything out. What you might think is insignificant may mean something to me.”

She nodded. “I saw a war,” she said. “I’m almost certain. I was right in the center of a full blown battle. But I wasn’t there physically, like people should have been stepping and tripping all over me and they weren’t.”

“Do you know where you were?”

Sam sat for a moment. “I think I heard some German,” she said. “I don’t know. There were other languages in there too.”

Trin nodded. “Did you notice what they were wearing? Any identifying marks or badges?”

“Not that I can remember,” she said. “The uniforms were older, like from the past.” She looked down at the floor. “I need to get a hold of that,” she said. “I start to panic. I miss stuff.”

“You’ll get the hang of it. You’re doing the best you can.” He shifted toward her in his seat. “Okay, so we have a battle in the past with Germany and some other countries,” Trin said. “Maybe World War Two?”

“Maybe,” she replied.

“What else did you see?”

A distant expression colored Sam’s face. “I watched a man die.”

Trin remained silent.

“He was killed by another soldier right in front of me.” She looked up at Trin. “The man who killed him, he had Ashbel’s face.”

Trin’s features twisted in confusion.

“It wasn’t
him
,” she clarified. “The soldier’s face changed to Ashbel’s for just a moment and then changed back. That happened throughout the entire vision.

Trin sat back, his keen mind filing each bizarre detail. “What next?”

“I ran to the side of the street and fell apart,” she replied. “Then the scene changed.”

“Okay.”

Sam breathed out, glancing away. “This one was in the past as well,” she said. “It was another battle, but they were all young women, like my age, maybe younger. It was horrible. They were all dying.”

Trin sat pondering. “Sounds like Stalingrad.”

“What’s Stalingrad?”

Trin sat up a bit. “It was a battle near the end of World War Two. Hitler was trying to take the city of what was then Stalingrad,” he said.
“In one instance, when they were short on men, young women went out to fight instead.” He looked through the windshield. “It was one of the bloodiest battles in history,” he said. “But they fought well and the Russians were the victors.” He turned toward Sam. “I wonder why all these war visions.”

“The next one wasn’t war,” she said. She paused, glancing at the floor again, anguished. “Persecution in our country, or maybe somewhere in Africa,” she said. “I don’t know, it could even be today, just not here. I have a feeling it was a past event.” She paused again collecting her strength. “Men, women, and children, all African-American.” She lowered her gaze to the floor, fighting a lump in her throat. “It was the worst one.”

“How many more were there?” Trin asked.

“Just one,” she replied.

Trin waited.

“
He
was there...Chernobog,” she looked up. “He spoke.”

Trin froze, a glint of inscrutable emotion flickering through his neon irises. She looked through the windshield. “He spoke Russian, but I understood him.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me I couldn’t run, that he had my soul and that was all he needed.”

Trin tightened his grip. “That’s a lie, Sam,” he insisted. “He’s trying to break you down.”

Sam stared forward in distant consideration. “There was something else.” She looked back to Trin. “He said one last thing before it ended.”

“What?”

“He said ‘tell Trinton’.”

Trin sat back. “He called me by name?”

Sam nodded.

“Tell me
what?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I guess maybe he already has me, that you’ve lost...” She trailed off and shook her head. “There is something more there,” she said. “It was really strange. His image sort of rippled right before he said it and I swear his voice changed.” She looked away again. “Then he started grinning this horrible grin and that’s when I came to you, however that happened.”

Trin sat up in his seat. “His voice changed how?”

Sam shook her head. “It just sounded different,” she replied. “I can’t explain it.”

“Try.”

Sam exhaled, looking down. “His form rippled and his eyes got really bright. Then he said it and...that horrible grin...”

“His eyes changed?”

Sam shook her head. “They didn’t really
change.
They just got brighter...like yours did when you healed your arm.”

“That’s Veduny,” he said. Trin sat back, contemplating everything Sam had just witnessed but none of it added up to anything that made any sense. “He’s got Veduny power all around him,” he said. He leaned forward. “It’s got to be from Ashbel. We have to find him. We have to know what he’s doing. I mean, it’s pretty obvious he’s looking for you, almost like he’s Chernobog’s bounty hunter. But what’s in it for him?” Trin looked at her. “Can you remember anything else...any little detail you might have missed?”

Sam shook her head. “I avoided details. I’m trying not to”

Trin ran a hand through her hair. “You’re doing fine,” he said. “You haven’t had your whole life to get used to this like all the others.” He took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth. Pulling back, he looked into her eyes. “We will figure this out.”

She barely heard his words. He kissed her again and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, doing his best to reassure her while, hard as he tried, he couldn’t reassure himself.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

M
ikhail sat at a table in the massive archives, deep beneath the Ivanova temple. High stone walls stretched upward, meeting at a dimly lit ceiling casting light on endless rows of solid, metal shelving, each one containing books on Russian history, topography, and natural resources. But unlike other libraries this hallowed room also contained books on mystical properties of the elements, unproven theories already proven by the Veduny, physics and sciences the rest of the world had never seen before, universal laws not yet discovered or understood by modern scientists, pure knowledge the world hadn’t been prepared to accept, until now. Ready or not, the world needed it.

He had been reading for hours, his heightened mind devouring each text at an accelerated rate, skimming Veduny history, journals, records, everything and anything kept by his tribe in order to make sense of the random bits of information skirting his efforts. But he had found nothing.

He had consulted with Vitaly again a few times since their initial meeting. Vitaly was preparing his soldiers, their most powerful men and women, in preparation for
what
they were not sure.

Mikhail had immediately gone to research. He rested the last book on the desk in front of him and leaned back in his chair, exhausted, extremely concerned for the young pair wielding through this all on their own nearly two continents away.
What was it they were missing?

Mikhail stood, lifting the old texts from the table and made his way to the back of the archive to replace them.

A clear vision seized him, causing him to stumble; a stranger plunging a dagger into a young woman’s heart. Mikhail caught himself on the nearest shelving unit, clutching the weathered texts to his chest. The kindjal in the man’s hand was the same one he had seen at Bergen-Belsen, he was certain. But it was the blade itself that shook him—shook him to the core.

Shocked, trembling, Mikhail pushed himself from the shelving unit, books clenched in one hand. His free hand covered his face. This would explain everything if he was correct. Everything.

He crossed the room toward the final bookshelf, placing the texts in their rightful places. He reached past the shelving itself, touching a small metallic pad hidden in the upper right hand corner of the bookcase.

With silent force the entire shelving unit rotated outward revealing what appeared to be a darkened crypt. With only the light of the archives behind him, he entered the small stone room arriving in front of a dusty safe, embedded into the wall. Still shaking he attempted to steady his hand, manipulating the dial, unlocking the code, and pulling the small metal door open.

Pulling a pair of gloves on so as not to damage the delicate reference, he reached inside and gingerly retrieved an ancient text he had previously scoured. The information inside hadn’t helped, until now. With trembling hands, he laid it on his desk, carefully opening the book, turning page by page until he met with the entry he was looking for.
Crack!
Another vision, this time throwing him forward. Barely able to catch himself against his desk, he looked in horror at the entry on the page, putting it together with what he had just been shown. He read the words, not wanting confirmation of what he now knew. He read them again, gazing at the text in shock, his mind spinning. It was already too late.

Within two hours Mikhail was boarding a plane to the United States, having alerted the council and Vitaly to his findings, leaving them to inform and protect the Veduny tribe, if that was still possible, while he went to collect the chosen pair. They were already out of time. The Oracle was more vulnerable now than she could possibly imagine.

Trin had been right all along. He couldn’t ignite the Oracle, and he was no longer enough to keep her safe.

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

I
t had been a long, exhausting week of coordinating, staying together, and staying under the radar while still attending class, swim practice, and dance rehearsals. Tonight was Sam’s first performance and Griffin’s birthday party. They were looking forward to putting everything out of their minds for one night.

Inexplicable nightmares accosted Sam, waking her in a panic each time. But she always woke in Trin’s arms, buried in his chest, his deep voice reassuring her.

He slept very little, using every bit of mental training he had to extract what he needed from the little sleep he did get. Once the weekend passed they had every intention of leaving.

Trin kept training her, pushing her hard, physically and mentally, confounded by her ability to learn and internalize new skills. He loved watching her grow. Trin needed to pull all of these skills out into the open. He could teach her to use her mind for good and to deflect negativity. He could teach her how to avoid conflict and protect herself. He could teach her to become one with her element. But the unexpected gifts were all Sam, and she needed all the help she could get.

Sam walked out of her bedroom dressed for a workout. Trin waited for her on the sofa in the small living room, looking like a Greek God in a running shirt and shorts. Trin stood. “Let’s go.”

“What are we doing?” she asked.

“We’re going for a run.” He put a hand to the small of her back, guiding her to the door.

“Aw, running?” she protested, “anything but running, Trin. How about you teach me to swim laps?” It was more than a suggestion.

“We’re running,” he said.

“Ugghh,” she groaned, dropping her head back. “Trin, I
hate
running.”

“I know,” he said, still forcing her in the direction of the doorway.

Sam stopped, turning to face him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Trin stood with his arms folded across his chest looking conflicted, irritated, and annoyingly beautiful. He stared at her, his ice blue gaze set. “It’s not going to kill you, Sam.”

“I have to do stuff I hate now?” she persisted. “What’s that all about?”

“Your most powerful skills manifest when you’re agitated.”

Sam drew back, brows raised. “Oh, thank you,” she responded. “So now you’re just going to spend all your time ticking me off because my super power is PMS?”

Trin rolled his eyes, his face twisted in agitation. “We all have something that provokes us,” he said, “and for whatever reason yours, Bruce Banner, is anger. And who said anything about PMS?”

Sam was laughing too hard to fight him anymore.
“Bruce Banner?”

Trin looked at the ceiling for a second and then back down at Sam. “You
asked
me to push you,” he said. “I have instincts specifically designed to help
you.”

Sam kept laughing. “Okay. Well if you need me angry, I
am
now so can we just skip the running?”

“You gotta trust me, Sam. I know this part of you better than you do. Just let me work with it, okay?”

Sam’s arms fell to her side. “Fine.”

He guided her through the door, into the hallway and outside. Trin started a jog toward the hillside and Sam grudgingly fell in step behind him, still shaking her head.

“
You’re
Bruce Banner,” she mumbled.