Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Oh, like he could carry me with a bullet wound. Yet, something tells me he probably can. I wish I had a weapon. I climb the two stairs, hoping they don’t break, and step inside a dirty, yet uncluttered seventies-style kitchen with cracked linoleum on the counters and floor.
He immediately opens a door to his left and starts descending down more wooden slats of stairs, his gait losing its natural grace. “Come on.”
“Is this where you leave all the bodies?” I gingerly pick my way down the stairs. Cool air washes over me.
His chuckle is dark. “You’ve never been safer, Peaflower.”
Somehow, I’m not comforted by that fact. I follow him into a square-shaped basement with dirt on the floor and no windows. I shiver. This would be an ideal place to hide a body, actually.
He walks to the far concrete wall, plants his good hand right above his head, and waits.
I gulp, the hair on the back of my neck standing up. “Listen, I’m not sure what . . .”
A door slides open in front of him. He looks over his shoulder and flashes me a grin, one that warms me in inappropriate places.
“Come on, Rosalie,” he says, his voice low with pain.
I have to admit, my curiosity has just sprung wide awake. I hurry across the dirt floor, my kitten heels sinking annoyingly, and follow him inside. We’re in pitch darkness. The door closes behind me, and I try not to scream. I hear something fumbling, and then lights flick on down a long tunnel.
“Whoa,” I say, and then my gaze catches on . . . “Is that a golf cart?”
He smiles. “Do you mind driving? I’m kind of dying here.”
I like the idea of still being in control, because this is crazy. “Sure.” I run around to sit on the driver’s side of a pretty standard blue golf cart.
He sits next to me, his heat instantly warming me. “That way.”
“There’s only one way.” I marvel at the can lights attached to concrete walls every five feet or so. “Where are we going?”
“Just drive.”
I don’t want to be curious or amused, but this is the most fun I’ve had in a long time. So I press the gas pedal, and the cart instantly zings off. “Don’t you have to charge these things?”
He jolts. “Wait.”
We both wince as a loud pop echoes, and I turn to see an electrical cord fly through the air and land hard. “Oops.”
He scratches his head. “Yes. It’s always plugged in.”
I probably just broke it. But it’s not my fault he didn’t explain what’s happening. I hit the gas again, entranced at our speed. We go several miles in a short amount of time, until we reach the end of the tunnel with an obvious door. I stop. “Where are we?”
“Hologrid Hub.” He hitches painfully out of the golf cart.
I hop out and hurry around to look at his face. He’s gone pale beneath his bronze skin, and he’s partially bent over. “I told you we should go to a hospital.”
“Right.” He moves forward and flattens his hand against the top part of the door like he did before.
I squint my eyes and peer up. “Is that some sort of sensor?”
“Yes,” he says. “It’s a palm sensor that reads the fingerprints. My hand’s the only one that will open it.”
I don’t want to be impressed, but I am. That’s kind of cool.
The door slides open, and we walk into one of those fancy computer server rooms you see on TV. “Whoa,” I say. Computer consoles with blinking lights line all four walls except for a doorway opposite us, whereas in the center on a big pedestal sits an amethyst, raw and natural, bigger than a basketball. The stone’s cuts and valleys sparkle purple and slightly white in the dim light. The servers hum around us, so clean they reflect our images.
“Hold this.” Alexei hands me his gun, his gaze locked on the crystal in the center of the room.
“What are you doing?”
He moves toward the amethyst as if unable to refuse its draw. Taking a deep breath, he places both hands on either side of the precious gem. “I’m healing myself.”
I move to the side, watching as the crystal begins to glow a brighter purple. “Wow,” I whisper.
As one of the four major social media companies in the world, Hologrid Hub runs on amethysts. The three other companies run on either garnets, citrines, diamonds, or aquamarines. I know this because my best friend, Alana, is the person who actually charges the crystals at Aquarius Social. I’ve never quite understood what that means, and not once has she mentioned she can receive healing energy from a stone.
Alexei throws back his head, and electricity arcs through the air. I blink. Alana has explained how the four families learned to harness the power from crystals back in the stone ages, which gives them better health and longevity. They’ve taken that gift and amassed wealth and power through the centuries.