brightlotusmoon | Snippet Saturday: snippets from Chapter 18

Through the haze and dull throb, Dana could see waves of psionic energy arching above and around her. She blinked slowly, focusing eyes and mind, and realized what was happening.
It was a shell. A shimmering, steady human-sized dome that barely shuddered when black streaks clawed at it. She could feel them screaming to get through. But as long as Alex was conscious—as long as he was alive—the shield would hold. She had never seen his power in this form. Pride swelled. And he thought he wasn't useful, before her throbbing head swayed again.
Dana tried to sit up. It wasn't her head that made it difficult. It was the intense sheer force of the shield combined with the invading energy. She felt as though she were being pressed down and almost flattened. Taking a deep breath, Dana lifted her arms, felt fire race along her veins, and pushed out at the blackness.
Something screamed horribly, grating her ears and her mind. It rose in pitch, a desperate, deathly keen that told her exactly what she had done. Dana saw a rippling shape that may have once looked human. She reached farther and saw it as a fetal-looking thing with razor teeth and frog-like legs. The twig arms ended in long thin hands with deeply webbed, clawed fingers.
She almost had its name—and then the fire had it and it disintegrated, still howling. The Phoenix, viciously, quickly snapped up any remnant of the soul and spirit. She felt the satiation and satisfaction ripple back into her. And part of her liked it.
Inching up into a sitting position, Dana nodded gratefully at Alex. He opened his hand and pulled the shields back into himself. She watched them go, fascinated.
Ian ran to her and pulled her up, crushing her to his chest. His heart was fluttering. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Did you hit your head?"
He lifted her chin and with a finger brushed away her hair, looking for a bruise. He turned her head side to side, his right fingers tapping on her head through her hair, like someone searching for a secret panel to a passageway. Looking for cuts or bruises, knots or welts. She winced when he touched one spot near her left ear. Dull throbbing like a distant heavy drumbeat.
"There," he murmured. "Do you feel dizzy?"
"Not really," she said, softly since she knew he was concentrating.
"Look me in the eye," he said. She did. He put his left hand on her temple and looked at her face, her eyes. "You don't have a concussion. No dilation, no flush. Nausea?"
Dana shook her head slightly. "No, I didn't go down that hard. And the Phoenix must have, I don't know, cushioned me. It hurt for a few minutes, while that thing was here, but it's okay now."
"Need that sore spot fixed? It might bruise."
She smiled. "I'll live. I'm sure I've had worse. Or will."
He looked at her and she saw sadness and fear. She bit her lip. But she hadn't had one of those dreams for a while, and she told him so.
"It doesn't matter," Ian said. "We still need to keep you safe. Jeremy won't back down, and neither will the Shadow. Jeremy wants you, but the Shadow wants the Phoenix. I don't know which one's more dangerous. And I don't really care. All I know is that I won't lose you."
Blinking, Dana hugged him as hard as she could. "I love you too," she whispered.

"Well, that wasn't any fun." Panting, Jeremy crawled toward the window, pulled himself up, and looked out at the world. The world was hard, high silver chrome endless insect beauty. There was no light or shadow, no real edge of mystery. It was so. . .technological. He remembered a time when there were more trees than people and there were more people than metallics. If he could go back to that—take everyone back, burn everyone down and build new ones—that would be better. It would be right.
But she didn't want to cooperate. Guardian of life, giver of life, lover of hope. She had done it before, many times. It was her morals, wasn't it? It was because she was Dana now, not Lisolette or Akashah or the primitive nameless first with a stone spear and animal skin dress. It had started with Bridget. Bridget, full of morals and ethics and what people wanted. People, animals. Mindless destructive hungry monsters. Worse than dinosaurs. And the nameless first had taken care of them. People now, nothing but dinosaurs. Blood and teeth and witless survival.
"You're not making this easy, sweetheart," he whispered. "You're not playing fair. You're remembering what happened to Lisolette and Guenivere and Adrienne, aren't you? They died for me. Your dreams haven't told you that yet. When I locked them up and took their strength, they died human. I just want you to help me make things right. You don't deserve the power if you don't think that. So maybe you should let me have it."
His eyes burned. She was miles away, but he burned with her.

Kara had gotten chairs so they could continue reading Alistair's files over Ian's shoulder. Curled into hers, Dana let her mind drift, and then she heard it. Lisolette and Guenivere and Adrienne. . . She jerked and shook her head. Who?
And again, You don't deserve the power if you don't think that. So maybe you should let me have it.
Her eyes widened. Jeremy.
But who were the women? They were important. Instant connection, but she couldn't quite touch. . .
"Ian," she said, sitting up.
He looked at her. "Something wrong?"
"Can you do a word search in all the files? Look up some names?"
Nodding, Ian tapped away. "Go ahead."
Dana tilted her head and bit her lip. "Um. Look for Lisolette, Guenivere, Adrienne, Akashah…"
"Slow down, slow down," Ian interrupted. "Friends of yours?"
She shrugged. "Just names that popped into my head."
"Why would they be in Alistair's files?" Alex asked.
"I'm not sure. Maybe they have a connection to our, um, alter ego powers."
Kara folded her arms. "We know you better than that, sweetie. Who are they?"
Sighing, Dana closed her eyes. "Jeremy was trying to tell me about them."
Alex jerked forward in his chair. "He got in your head?"
"Alex…" Kara's hand was on his arm.
"It's okay," Dana said quickly. "It's okay. It was more like a whisper. Like he was searching and just tossed something out hoping I'd hear it. He was thinking. Hard. I picked it up. He doesn't know where I am."
Her friend didn't relax, but he sat back, face grim. Kara moved her chair closer and began rubbing his back. "We're all tense as hell," she said. "But the shields are holding. So are the ones around my house. And what we are...the things we can do now...we can protect ourselves."
"Can we?" Dana said hoarsely. "Everything we've been doing so far feels like child's play, Kara. Even me. It's like I'm not even breaking a sweat. What happened to Ian..." She swallowed. "I barely even felt it when I unleashed the power."
Ian stopped typing. Spinning his chair toward her, he leaned forward and grabbed her hands. "Didn't you hear what Kara said? We can protect ourselves. Or are you worried that we won't be able to protect ourselves from you?"
Dana sucked in a cold breath, eyes widening and then glittering. She pressed her lips together. Ian tightened his grip. No crying, he thought at her. Not allowed right now. Strong, remember?
She nodded stiffly. "Strong," she whispered.
"Who are those women?" he asked.
"I don't know..."
"Yes, you do." He jerked her hands. "Focus. It's somewhere in your head. If Jeremy knows, there's no reason you shouldn't. Don't start doubting yourself. Now is not the time."
The bones in her hands were close to grating from his pressure. She used the pain as a focus, opened her eyes wide and stared as deeply as she could into his; felt the Phoenix stir and spiral up to rest just behind the edge of her skull. She saw, inside the well of Ian's pupils, the Dragon's iridescent swirl, the silent submission hello.
Inhaling, Dana grabbed his fingers, clenched her jaw, and pulled back--hard enough to stagger him. She stepped back, eyes still wide. "I need. . .to think," she murmured, throat staggered and full of heat. "Let me. . ."
"Dana," Ian said, reaching for her. "We need to--"
"No." She lunged two steps past him, toward the doorway, toward the front door. "I need. Thought. Outside. I can't. . .I don't feel them. Not yet."
And her back foot lifted and she was running, and her hand was against the front door, and "Kara," Ian gasped and whirled around, "can you. . .?"
Without a word, Kara stood up and followed Dana.

Crouched rocking in his corner, Jeremy bit his hands and bit his hands till they bled. "You're not playing fair, you know," he muttered.
Who? The girl? Or me?
"I don't know. I don't know anymore. I thought this would be easy. That's what you told me!"
It would be easier if you shut out all those other voices and listened to me more often.
Jeremy's lip curled. "I need those," he said. "They stopped giving me my drugs. The voices keep me connected. I'm empty without them."
Amusement. Didn't you ever think that they stopped medicating you because you got better? Maybe you are—-for lack of a better word—-cured?
"Liar. Don't fuck with crazy people."
Laughter. But they're the best kind.
"No!" He sprang to his feet and threw himself back against the wall, head cracking and lights spinning, as if that would concuss the Shadow and make it tumble out shivering from his skin. It laughed in his head again, kept laughing, until Jeremy growled and shrieked and cursed it, cursed the dead bodies he had yet to clean up lying in the hall, cursed her most of all, and sank back to the floor.
"I'll do it better," he said, grinning. "I'll start right now. And I know how to, anyway. I know how to better than you. I'm human. You're not. I know how to get to them!"
He laughed until he cried, and sent his mind out in a single wide streak toward a place he couldn't find, but he knew as long as he hit something it wouldn't matter.