Hades Sent : Book One of the Sent Series, page 11
“You like to just watch the crowd? I can understand that. It takes a lot of the pressure off,” I respond.
“Yes, I suppose it does,” he says, turning his head to the side. He’s trying to get a read on me. Can’t say I blame him.
The music slows down to a crawl. People are joining together for a slow dance. I take the opportunity to glance around the room along with my new companion. Couples are arm-in-arm while staring into each other’s eyes. Some are sober and some are half drunk. I wonder how many of these couples are actually dating and how many are just together for a night? Either way, the atmosphere in the room is heating up. I swallow, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.
“Hey, umm … what’s your name?” the guy asks me, trying to break the silence between us.
“Ireland.” I try to smile. “And yours?”
He stretches out his hand for a hand shake. “The name’s Levi. Can I ask you something?”
I return the handshake. “Hmm … okay.”
“That guy you were with on the dance floor before … is he your boyfriend?”
Oh god. Don’t get upset. Don’t get embarrassed. I shrug. “No. Why?”
Levi nods toward the back of the dance floor. “Well, because he is now hugging up against another woman.”
“Oh,” I mutter. My eyes follow Levi’s to where Greve is dancing with a blonde female. He has his hands on her face and is whispering something to her. The woman seems to be enjoying the attention and is not at all in distress. In fact, she seems to be enjoying him a little too much.
My face immediately gets hot. I can feel the heat returning, making my eyes turn red. I blink a couple of times, trying to get rid of the obvious color change to my pupils. They still burn with heat letting me know they are turning red regardless. Why should I care that he is close to someone? We don’t have a label. I don’t know him that well. And he told me he was going to read like me. But … still. Seeing him like that with her fills me with emotions I am not familiar with. The only way to combat it would be to make us equal.
I take Levi’s hand and start walking toward the dance floor toward Greve. “Come on. We are dancing.”
He hesitates. “Look, I’m not getting in the middle of your lover’s quarrel.”
“There’s no quarrel to get involved in. You will dance with me,” I order.
“No,” he says while jerking his hand away.
I hate to make the guy dance with me if he’s that afraid. However, my feelings toward Greve are affecting me so much that I don’t really care one way or another how Levi feels. Turning toward him, my eyes make contact with his. If he wasn’t scared before, he is now. My eyes, red from my anger, terrify him. “Be quiet and take my hand,” I command while keeping his eye contact.
This time he does not hesitate. We walk hand and hand toward Greve and the woman. I don’t say anything. Levi’s hands find my waist and I make myself wrap my arms around his neck. We start off dancing oddly, neither of us comfortable with the other. Then the slow song ends and is replaced by another which is even more invasive and slow.
Greve eyes me for just a moment. His happiness is replaced by a smirk on his face. I ignore him. If he can do it, then so can I. I stay with Levi, dancing by all these people in the hope I can read him.
I move my hand closer to his neck, mainly because that’s what Greve is doing to the girl. Levi’s breathing picks up as my hand rests firmly on his skin. “Relax,” I say, trying to soothe him. “Let me in. Tell me anything,” I whisper while never taking my eyes off of him.
Levi relaxes and sighs. The sound represents something close to relief. While looking into his eyes, I swear I can see a tiny part of his soul. It blinks at me from behind his lids, waiting for me to come and take away all the bad things in his life.
And it takes only a second for that part of his soul to start sharing what terrible things this man has gone through and seen. Visions of death and sorrow come first. They surround us in misery so strong it makes me light-headed. His mother, father, and brother are all dead. His girlfriend was murdered a few years after them. Then come the memories of drug abuse and periods of self-loathing as a result of all that’s happened. I see Levi spiraling down into the depths of his own personal hell.
He wakes only to get that high. He lives in the streets with nothing but the shirt on his back. Levi is hungry and miserable. He’s torn and addicted to all that is evil. The last memory comes on me fast, without warning. An elderly woman, around the age of seventy, approaches the broken Levi in the streets and without one word hands him a stack of cash. She tells him to get better and to get past the chaos that he has become. That was the moment that started Levi back on the right path. That was also just two days ago.
My breath catches in my throat. This man is still so broken. Without thinking, I throw my arms around him for a hug. My fingers run down the bones that make up his spine. He’s so weak both mentally and physically. As the mind control comes to an end, I feel many different sensations. My mind swims in all that is Levi. His hurt and pain. His addiction and anger. It’s all my body can handle. The demon is relishing in all the negative feelings while the angel part of me feels sad and hopeless for this man. It’s all so confusing and I still don’t know how to handle it.
Tears form in my eyes as I release Levi from my control. He looks at me, confused. Before he turns away from me, I take his hand again. If I can make this better for him, then I’m going to try to do my part just like the elderly woman did.
“Take the money you have and go to rehab. Check yourself in and focus on breaking your addiction. Get your life back on track for yourself and for the rest of your family. Get out of this club with all its temptations.” All these things I say as a command. My voice goes into the deepest parts of him, including the little blinking light behind his eyes. I hope he will become a better man with my help. If the elderly woman saw it in him, then I believe I can see it, too.
Levi nods with understanding before walking away from me. I stand there letting him go in the hope that I’ve done the right thing. My heart pounds from excitement and adrenaline. I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins, but my body struggles to cope with the sudden shift of power. Dizziness overcomes me so fast I barely have time to find a booth. As I sit, my vision comes in and out of focus. Then the nausea starts, and I feel like I’m going to get sick.
Where is Greve? I haven’t seen him since he was with that girl. We need to leave before I faint. This is all too much. He’s supposed to be here with me. Isn’t he? My vision goes out and for a second all I can see is blackness. When I come out of the darkness and back to the present, I notice Greve coming out of the bathroom.
He sees me, but makes no effort to come over. Instead, he stays put while a lady with red hair approaches him. The woman has sharp features with bold cheekbones. My vision starts to blur again, but I force myself to stay awake. Greve and the woman are talking somewhat forcibly. He’s uncomfortable with her because the woman demands his full attention. After a few minutes, she glances my way. I see her eyes and a shiver runs through me. Her eyes, large and intense, glare at me. I have a moment of pure awe looking back at her. My eyes are staring at me. My eyes show me hatred. No! Not my eyes … hers.
The realization of it all comes crashing down on me, and I can’t take it. Instead, my body drowns in it all and everything goes black once more.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ireland
I wake up to the sounds of screams so sharp and shrill the noise hurts my ears. My body rises fast off the bed to figure out where the sounds are coming from. Sweat covers my face and hair. The dress that I last remember wearing clings to my body. It’s so tight that any fast movement might tear the fabric.
Greve rushes into the room with the look of utmost concern. He stares at me, silent.
“I heard screaming,” I say. My voice comes out hoarse and weak.
“It’s okay. No one is here,” Greve replies softly. He comes to me and sits on the edge of the bed … his bed. He must have put me here after what happened at the club. It’s all slowly coming back to me.
“Someone’s here. I heard screaming,” I murmur, still slightly confused.
Greve shakes his head. “That was you. You’ve been screaming on and off in your sleep.”
“Me?” I ask, not believing him. My body hurts, along with my head. Everything aches with tension. Mostly, I think my heart hurts worst of all.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I must have pushed you too hard, too fast.”
“Maybe.” My head starts to spin again. I fall back into the bed to try to get it to stop.
“If I don’t push you, you won’t make it,” Greve states as a fact.
After seeing the look my mother gave me, I believe him. “I know. I saw her. She hates me. That was my mother, right?”
Greve doesn’t confirm or deny anything. He just studies me for a while. “We can go slower if you want, but I think we still need to keep up the pace. This isn’t just about mind control. You have to learn more.”
I turn over to face him. “I asked you a question. I think you owe it to me to answer.”
“It will only make things harder.”
Tears form in my eyes because I already know the answer. I just need to hear it. “Tell me. God! I have to know!”
Greve runs his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, relax. I will tell you.” He takes the opportunity to lie on the bed. We are side by side, facing each other. The space between us shortens as he moves closer to talk.
“Your mother was at the club last night. It was sort of your initiation. She wanted to see how you would do.”
Tears come at the realization that the woman who stared at me with such hatred is my mother. I just let them go, knowing that right now it is what I need most of all. “And she’s disappointed in what she saw?”
Greve winces at the sight of me crying. “Honestly, she’s taken aback at you. I don’t think any of her children have favored her as much as you do. But, just so you know, demons are always disappointed. It comes down to how much their children disappoint them.”
“They are disappointed because we are not full like them?’
Greve nods. “Yes, that’s it. We will never be what they want. And if they are very disappointed and offended by us, that calls for death in their way of thinking. Don’t ever cry for them, Ireland. They would never cry for you.”
I wipe the tears from my face. He’s right. “Nothing will ever be the same. She won’t let me go back home?”
“I’m sorry,” Greve says.
Those two words confirm my worst fears. I will never see Dad or Faith. I will never be able to do what I want. The first thing I want to do is cry all over again. But it won’t help. I will find something that will. My mother may think she has control over me. I’m going to show her one way or another that she doesn’t.
“I’m sorry too. But I am one child she will not control in the end. I will find a way to get out of this.”
Greve smiles at me. “I hope you do get out of it. Don’t be trapped like me.” His smile is unnerving.
“Why are you being nice to me?”
Greve leans in closer so that what little space there was between is now gone. “Because I’m tired of being mean. I’ve discovered you work better without me being crude. It’s all I’ve been taught to be. It’s not an excuse, but I’ve gone through what you have. I’ve been on the other side and was taught to be spiteful and manipulative. Dad taught me to be cruel. That’s what he wanted of me and for a long time, I had to obey. Meanness becomes a habit. Might not make sense …”
“No,” I whisper. “I get it. If you are taught to be that way, it’s hard to learn to be different.”
“Yes. I’ve learned some kindness from others along the way. Maybe that’s why I’m able to change. I want to change. I don’t want to be the person I have been.”
“Then, don’t be,” I encourage. “Don’t be the trapped person anymore.”
Greve sighs. “Dad will find a way to beat me back down. It’s happened before. I feel like the whole situation is repeating itself. He’s setting me up and I’m afraid I will fail. Last time that happened I wasn’t the only person to get hurt.”
Flashes of the girl come to mind. The girl, who couldn’t handle mind control, that Greve remembers so well. “Did she die? The girl I saw in your memories?”
Greve bites his lip, as if trying to determine what to tell me. “She did die but not by my hands. I didn’t kill her. Her mother did.”
“She wasn’t good enough?” I ask. Greve has been so willing to share. I can’t help but to want more information.
“Not in her mother’s eyes. She was a good person. She cared a lot for the people around her.” Greve looks at me as if he’s experiencing his own grief.
“Tell me more. It will help to talk about it.”
“No. I can’t and what I have to say will only hurt you further. What happened is something that I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. It’s the ultimate symbol of failure. I can’t talk about it anymore. Not right now.”
“Okay,” I respond. Greve looks at me with both pity and sadness. We haven’t even scratched the real surface of what all he’s been through. Still though, seeing this little piece of the real Greve is comforting. He’s just the result of influence, much like Levi at the club. And with all things lost, there will come a time that he will be found again. Greve needs help finding who he is. After all, he is a victim like me.
“I like you like this, Greve. This was what I was talking about when I said you needed to open up to me. It’s okay to feel something besides negativity.”
Greve laughs. It’s the first time I’ve heard him make the sound. His laughter fills the room, making me laugh along with him. Greve responds, “You like me like this? Are you saying that you like me?”
I place my hand on his side to make him take me seriously. His skin feels hot underneath his shirt. Like me, he hasn’t changed from last night’s adventure. “Yes, I like you. I believe you are good even though you don’t see it. I like this nicer you … the more open you. We can learn from each other.”
Greve places his hand on mine, not caring to move away from me. “I like you too, as you very well know. I just don’t show it the way I need to. I’m worried about them finding out that we are getting close. That was my downfall before. I fear they killed that girl because we became friends.”
“We can’t let it happen again,” I agree. “They won’t kill me,” I promise.
“You don’t know that,” Greve mutters. “They might kill us both.”
I shudder at the thought of dying. I know it could happen, and to die at the hands of someone who is supposed to love me, is terrifying.
“Come here,” Greve says after he sees me shudder. He wraps his strong arms around me as my head rests on his chest. His heart hammers against my cheek. His smell relaxes me and for one second I forget where I am.
I release him, worried I’ve overstepped yet another boundary in this place. “If we die, we will die together. We will die as friends, as victims, and as people who only wanted a life of their own.”
Greve nods in agreement. “Don’t back away from me. I need this, too.”
I smile. “What do you need? Do you need me, or just the touch of someone?”
Greve puts his arms around me again. He’s a man who has surrendered. “I need you, and I need this.”
He leans back to cup his hands to the side of my head. His lips hover over me in hesitation as he fights with himself. I make up his mind for him and bring my lips to his. Our kiss is soft and slow. It is full of confusion and excitement. My heart aches for him. I ache for us. All that we’ve been through. All that haunts us. We are two people with the same reality.
His lips part to breathe me in and then he stops. “I think you more than like me.”
I smile. “I think you may be right.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ireland
Days pass by with Greve and me following the same routine. We sleep during the day and go out at night. With each night comes a new task. I’ve read more people than I can count and there’s still more to learn. Greve insists that things are going well and I have no reason to believe otherwise.
My mother hasn’t reappeared as far as I know. Also, Greve has been completely honest with me about why I’m learning the things I am. Now, mind control comes easy. People do and say what I command of them. It’s not just about reading and remembering their thoughts anymore. It has more to do with understanding who they are. After that, I learn I can manipulate them quite easily.
Not that I like controlling another person. I don’t. The act makes me feel dirty inside. The sad thing is that I’m not making them do anything bad. Most of the time it’s making them walk to me or to Greve. It’s making them forget me. Things like that. It’s nothing like what Greve says my mother will make me do.
I’m terrified of what my life will become. Will I be able to convince her? Does it even matter? I don’t know that it does.
In the other room, I hear Greve’s phone begin to ring. This is nothing new either. The spy who lives alongside my dad calls to check in at least twice a day now. It seems to me that the spy is getting anxious.
Greve comes walking in with the phone in his hand. “Yes, Ireland has gotten better. Yes, she can do that,” he mutters into the phone. He isn’t concerned about letting me hear the conversation. I’ve tried to place who might be on the other line, but for some reason I can’t hear the spy well enough. One time Greve put the phone on speaker, and the spy knew instantly and demanded to be taken off. We haven’t tried to do it again.
“Her mother has seen her already,” Greve continues. “I think she was put off by the resemblance. Yes, I intend on doing that. No, her mother won’t refuse her. I understand …” His voice trails off. A second later he clicks the phone off.
“So … how did it go?” I ask, curious. If only I could place who that is. Apparently, he’s been over this type of hybrid trafficking operation for some time now. When I find out, I think I will kill him myself.
