chair. Other images flashed, each accompanied by a stab of pain. Lyrik called her name as her legs gave out beneath her. His voice sounded distorted and distant. The room undulated in and out of focus. Sparkles of color burst before her eyes. Bracing herself against the floor, she rode the Mystic wave.
“Saebin?” Lyrik tried again. “Can you hear me?”
She tried to respond, but the vision expanded, encompassing everything else.
Krystabel’s battered body lay before her on a treatment table. Saebin shuddered as she imagined the abuse the older woman must have endured.
“Heal the female, D-159. Heal her now!” Saebin had never seen Dr. Hydran so agitated. He wrung his hands and rocked on the balls of his feet.
“Healing is not an acceptable objective for —”
“Any objective I give you is acceptable. I know healing was within your abilities before you volunteered for the elite projects. Use your implants to strengthen your power and heal this female.”
Saebin moved closer to the treatment table and extended her hands. Splaying her fingers, she kept her hands positioned just above Krystabel’s body. There was no breath, no pulsing of life through Krystabel’s veins. She pushed deeper, intensified the sensitivity of her receptors. The faintest trail of energy disappeared into the distance. Krystabel’s spirit had departed, yet it didn’t feel like death. Somehow Krystabel had escaped.
“I sense no life in this body,” she said softly. “Even my implants can’t raise the dead.”
Hydran screamed, his face contorting in maniacal rage. He slapped Saebin, knocking her to the floor as he shook Krystabel’s body. “You crafty bitch! You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. I will find another way.” He shoved her down on the table and straightened his uniform top. Turning to glare at Saebin, he repeated, “I will find another way.”
Lyrik knelt beside Saebin as she huddled on the floor. She flinched away from his lightest touch, so he just stayed near her.
“Does she do this often?” Dro Tar asked; her voice hushed with concern.
“I think she’s having a vision. What were you talking about?”
“Lots of things. History, Krysta, her mother.”
“When did she go into —”
Saebin lifted her head and looked around, her expression muddled. “Where … are we?”
“At Dro Tar’s flat. You were in some sort of trance.”
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she struggled to her feet. Lyrik reached for her, but she warned him back with an upraised hand. “I’m on the verge of overload.”
“How can we help you?” he asked. “What do you need?”
“I need to assimilate the information. My memory is returning in sporadic fragments.”
They fell silent. Lyrik helped Saebin to a chair and bent to one knee beside her as Dro Tar brought her a glass of water.
“I saw Krystabel.” Saebin took a sip, then handed the glass back to Dro Tar. “She had been beaten, horribly abused. Dr. Hydran insisted I heal her, but there was nothing I could do.”
“I’m sorry.” Lyrik closed his fingers around her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. Charlotte insisted Krystabel was still alive, but Krysta had sensed her death. Lyrik didn’t know what to think. “Did you remember anything else?”
Saebin took several deep breaths and met his gaze. “I saw Krysta and … where is Belle?”
An uncomfortable moment passed as Lyrik shifted his gaze between Saebin and Dro Tar.
“Do you want the ‘it’s complicated’ answer or the ‘sort of’ answer?” Dro Tar asked with a gentle smile.
Saebin squeezed Lyrik’s hand, drawing his attention back to her. “Was Krystabel my mother?”
He nodded. “Joleen gave birth to you, but Krystabel and Gath —”
“Were my biological parents,” she finished for him, resting her head against the back of the chair. “Dr. Hydran wasn’t trying to cure us, was he? He was … What was he trying to do?”
“Enhance and recreate your
“Saebin?” Lyrik tried again. “Can you hear me?”
She tried to respond, but the vision expanded, encompassing everything else.
Krystabel’s battered body lay before her on a treatment table. Saebin shuddered as she imagined the abuse the older woman must have endured.
“Heal the female, D-159. Heal her now!” Saebin had never seen Dr. Hydran so agitated. He wrung his hands and rocked on the balls of his feet.
“Healing is not an acceptable objective for —”
“Any objective I give you is acceptable. I know healing was within your abilities before you volunteered for the elite projects. Use your implants to strengthen your power and heal this female.”
Saebin moved closer to the treatment table and extended her hands. Splaying her fingers, she kept her hands positioned just above Krystabel’s body. There was no breath, no pulsing of life through Krystabel’s veins. She pushed deeper, intensified the sensitivity of her receptors. The faintest trail of energy disappeared into the distance. Krystabel’s spirit had departed, yet it didn’t feel like death. Somehow Krystabel had escaped.
“I sense no life in this body,” she said softly. “Even my implants can’t raise the dead.”
Hydran screamed, his face contorting in maniacal rage. He slapped Saebin, knocking her to the floor as he shook Krystabel’s body. “You crafty bitch! You think you’ve won, but you haven’t. I will find another way.” He shoved her down on the table and straightened his uniform top. Turning to glare at Saebin, he repeated, “I will find another way.”
Lyrik knelt beside Saebin as she huddled on the floor. She flinched away from his lightest touch, so he just stayed near her.
“Does she do this often?” Dro Tar asked; her voice hushed with concern.
“I think she’s having a vision. What were you talking about?”
“Lots of things. History, Krysta, her mother.”
“When did she go into —”
Saebin lifted her head and looked around, her expression muddled. “Where … are we?”
“At Dro Tar’s flat. You were in some sort of trance.”
Pushing her hair out of her eyes, she struggled to her feet. Lyrik reached for her, but she warned him back with an upraised hand. “I’m on the verge of overload.”
“How can we help you?” he asked. “What do you need?”
“I need to assimilate the information. My memory is returning in sporadic fragments.”
They fell silent. Lyrik helped Saebin to a chair and bent to one knee beside her as Dro Tar brought her a glass of water.
“I saw Krystabel.” Saebin took a sip, then handed the glass back to Dro Tar. “She had been beaten, horribly abused. Dr. Hydran insisted I heal her, but there was nothing I could do.”
“I’m sorry.” Lyrik closed his fingers around her hand, relieved when she didn’t pull away. Charlotte insisted Krystabel was still alive, but Krysta had sensed her death. Lyrik didn’t know what to think. “Did you remember anything else?”
Saebin took several deep breaths and met his gaze. “I saw Krysta and … where is Belle?”
An uncomfortable moment passed as Lyrik shifted his gaze between Saebin and Dro Tar.
“Do you want the ‘it’s complicated’ answer or the ‘sort of’ answer?” Dro Tar asked with a gentle smile.
Saebin squeezed Lyrik’s hand, drawing his attention back to her. “Was Krystabel my mother?”
He nodded. “Joleen gave birth to you, but Krystabel and Gath —”
“Were my biological parents,” she finished for him, resting her head against the back of the chair. “Dr. Hydran wasn’t trying to cure us, was he? He was … What was he trying to do?”
“Enhance and recreate your
Similar Books
