Page 21 of Cerulean Truth
The weird, mysterious, and inexplicable translation or whatever they called it had manifested, but this time, there was a major casualty, and I was in humongous, monumental, life-altering trouble.
SIX
JAMES
That morning couldn’t have gone worse.
Emma had not at all been amenable to our “suggestions” and I was sure she wouldn’t come into Cyclos on her own, under any circumstances. I really had to keep myself from shoving a big fat told you so down Stephen’s throat, though I suspected it was written all over my face.
Back at my loft, Stephen and I kept staring at nothing specific in silence, clearly both still thinking over the implications of her stubborn idiocy, but I worried we’d reached very different conclusions.
He let out a big sigh. I followed suit. Then we both shrugged at the same time, feeling a strange kind of bond forming out of the shared desperation to do the right thing for Emma and the rest of humanity.
Right before jumping through the portal he'd opened to head back to his consensus-tour, Stephen spun around, and wrapped me into a hug.
He whispered in my ear, “I know you will do what you feel you must James, and far be it from me to keep you from doing what you think is right, but don’t forget to consider Emma’s feelings in this.”
He paused.
“She has been living a life, a lie yes, but a life for twenty-three years. She has family, friends, a career, everything you have built here, she has built over there. Can you imagine someone asking you to give it all up? For something you don’t even really believe in? For something you’re not even certain is real? I’m not telling you what to do here, I’m only telling you…” He hesitated. “To be patient with her. I came to you, not only because of your background, but also because of your current position. You are, I believe, the only one who can properly navigate this situation. Whatever you want to do, I’ll support it either way.” He smiled, then vanished through the portal without awaiting my reaction. Not that I had one.
I walked into my bedroom, knowing he was right, but I recognized an inexplicable frustration with Emma. Somehow, she had gotten under my skin and I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about her.
Sitting on my bed by myself, I went over the entire conversation with Emma at least ten times in my mind. And not only the conversation if I’m properly honest, also the images of her and her body kept popping up in my head. It was the strangest thing, a combination of pure frustration and arousal. I thought about her stubbornness, then about her lips, how they would feel, wondering if they'd tremble under my touch. I thought about her arrogance, then about her cleavage, covered in all that red lace. Her attempts at deflecting by using fancy words, then her thighs, picturing them gripping me tight.
It was fucking confusing.
By the end of the afternoon, I had replayed every unpleasant comment that had come out of her mouth and I had full-on fantasized about her at the same time.
Of one thing I was very certain: there was no way in hell she would come in voluntarily, and we were going to have to inform the Council of our failure sometime soon.
It was aroundtwo o'clock that night when I got the call. I was finally asleep and extremely annoyed to be woken up.
I answered the Nexus with a deep desire to yell at the other person but, when I heardhervoice on the other end of the line…so full of angst and despair, I was instantly wide awake.
“James…” she whispered, her voice shaking and I knew something was terribly wrong. There was nothing left of that big time “arrogant” lawyer I had met the same morning, just a small girl with a childlike panic in her trembling voice.
“Where are you?” I growled, not bothering with any other question, jumping out of bed and reaching for my clothes.
She didn’t answer but kept repeating my name, whimpering, almost pleadingly. My heart nearly stopped.
“Fuck, Emma, where are you?”
She finally gave me the address of a bar and I portaled in the street not even four minutes later.
The bar was on the verge of closing, but I barged in without waiting for anyone to stop me, nearly yanking the door from its hinges. I glanced around frantically, my heart pounding, but I couldn’t spot her anywhere. Had I screwed up the address? A wave of anxiety started to build up in my chest.
In the back of the bar, there was a sign directing to the bathroom on the left; she had to be in there.
Reaching for the doorknob, I hesitated for a moment. My heart was racing with adrenaline, and I had to gulp in a lungfulof air. I steeled myself and turned the knob, holding my breath, unsure of what the hell I was about to walk into.
As I pushed open the door to the ladies’ room… I couldn’t evenbeginto describe it. The entire place resembled a horror scene from a slasher movie. There was blood everywhere—over the bathroom floor, the walls, even the fucking mirrors were splashed.
The white paper towels, lying all over the floor, were now soaked in red, and at the center of it all, an unconscious guy, clearly bleeding out, with Emma kneeling beside him, covered in his blood, desperately trying to resuscitate him.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head, as I struggled to make sense of the insane scene playing out in front of me.
“What thehellhave you done!” I bellowed in absolute horror. I was burning with the sort of rage I’d never felt in my whole life, and it was all aimed at this girl, sitting there, covered in blood.
