Page 46 of Cerulean Truth
The fire. My mom's tears streaking down her cheek. The relentless screaming and agony. It was all there. Always the same, yet somehow always a little different. My subconscious had a knack for keeping my personal torment thrillingly fresh.
Then, I had transitioned from one nightmare into another, this time centered around the infuriatingly stubborn lawyer. Again.
No matter how hard I hit the bag, the dream's scenes continued to torment me.
At least it was not the one about saving her from darkness in an unknown alley or about kissing her, thank fuck.
No, this one was about the wonders of Emma’s attempt at recreating the scene fromCarrieat the prom, turning it into her own version of Emma in the bathroom. The memories of that night kindled a feeling in my gut I hadn't felt in years.
I kept pounding the bag in front of me, hoping the physical pain would drown out the emotional wreckage threatening to explode.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I shook my head, attempting to banish the haunting images which kept flashing before my eyes. All the ways that night could have gone differently. What if she hadn't translated when the guy attacked her in the bathroom?
I tried to punch out the promise of hurt she would’ve gone through.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
If she hadn't translated…if she hadn't been able to defend herself against that asshole, he would've...
Fuck!
I punched a hole through the bag. I was breathing too hard.
Quickly fixing the heavy bag, I resumed my rhythmic release of frustration.
"I heard about the granny." A voice came up behind me, interrupting my train of thought.
I grunted, brushing off the ageist insult which often came at Humanborns who entered Cyclos after the age of three. I'd been called "gramps" until I was eight.
"Want to explain to me how you found her in the Human World, translating, without the LiaPrism having registered it?" the voice pressed.
"Not really," I mumbled, trying to block him out.
Eliot let out a sigh. "James, I'm on your side, you know that, but the Council is going berserk. Maria insists you want her to maintain her human connections while she's training here."
I attempted to ignore him, but my punches were getting sloppier by the second.
"You understand that's impossible, right?"
Damn it. I’d punched another hole through the bag. Instead of fixing it this time, I turned to my friend, pinning him down with an icy stare.
"Yeah, I get it," I snapped.
“Do you really? Because the Council is under the impression you might want to go behind their back and have Emma keep whatever human life possible when she arrives.”
I snorted. “Really? And why would the Council suspect me of such betrayal?”
Eliot squinted. “Don’t bullshit me James, you might have the Council fooled with your honorable rule-abiding crap, but we’ve been friends since long before you were ever elected our next Leader. And I damn well know, if you don't want to follow these ridiculous rules, you won't.”
I crossed my arms and arched a brow. "Are you saying you find the rules regarding Emma ridiculous?"
Eliot took a deep breath. "Honestly, I wish I could, but I understand Maria's point of view. Traceability of translation is probablythemost critical selling point we have to convince humans to accept us. They won't have to fear us this way, they can set any law they want on when and how we translate, knowing we'll have to follow because they'llknowif we don't. Emma endangers all of that, and you know it. We're way too close to the Great Exposure right now to take on such a risk."
The anger simmered at his words but I could recognize the truth in them. Hell, it was exactly what I’d thought the first time Stephen had come to me. So why was I so adamant to refute it now?
“I don’t see how Emma keeping her human connections screws any of that up,” I replied stubbornly, ignoring the voice of reason lurking in the back of my mind.
