Origin (Lux 4)

But I hadn’t given in yet. I hadn’t fought back during any of the stress tests. It was my only means of control.

I refused to fight them—to beat up on them or potentially kill them if things got out of hand. It was like being in a real, albeit messed-up, version of The Hunger Games.

The Hunger Games for alien hybrids.

I started to grin but winced as the motion pulled my torn lip. I might have refused to go all Terminator on them, but the other hybrids were so on board. So much so that some of them talked while they kicked my ass. They told me that I needed to fight, that I needed to prepare for the day the other Luxen came and for those who were already here. It was obvious they sincerely believed that the true villains were the Luxen. They may have been drinking the Kool-Aid, but I was not. Even so, there was a tiny part of me that wondered how Daedalus could control so many if there wasn’t some truth in what they were saying?

And then there was Shawn, the Luxen who wanted to kill thousands of humans. If I were to believe Dasher, there were a hell of lot more like him out there—just waiting to take over Earth. But to even think that Daemon or Dee, or even Ash, was a part of something like that…I couldn’t even consider it.

Forcing my eyes open, I saw the same thing I always saw after being hauled out of the training rooms and deposited—mostly unconscious—in my cell. The white ceiling with little black dots—a mixture of onyx and diamond.

God, I hated those dots.

I took a deep breath and cried out, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Sharp pain radiated across my ribs from a Mo-size kick. My entire body throbbed. There wasn’t one part of me that didn’t ache.

Movement from the farthest corner of my cell, by the door, drew my attention. Slowly and quite painfully, I turned my head.

Archer stood there, bundling a cloth in his hand. “I was beginning to worry.”

I cleared my throat and then opened my jaw, wincing. “Why?”

He came forward, the beret forever hiding his eyes. “You were out for a while this time, the longest yet.”

I turned my head back to the ceiling. I hadn’t realized that he was keeping track of my ass-kickings. He hadn’t been here other times when I awoke. Neither had Blake. I hadn’t seen that ass-hat in a while, and I wasn’t sure he was even here anymore.

I drew in a slower, longer breath. As sad as it was, when I was awake, I missed the moments of oblivion. It wasn’t always just a black, vast nothingness. Sometimes I dreamed of Daemon, and when I was awake I clung to those faint images that seemed to blur and fade the minute I opened my eyes.

Archer sat on the edge of the bed, and my eyes snapped open. The aching muscles tensed. Although he proved to be not so bad, all things considered, I trusted no one.

He held up the bundle. “It’s just ice. Looks like you could use it.”

I watched him warily. “I don’t…I don’t know what it looks like.”

“It being your face?” he asked, palming the bundle. “It doesn’t look pretty.”

It didn’t feel pretty. Ignoring the throbbing in my shoulder, I tried to pull my arm out from under the blanket. “I can do it.”

“You don’t look like you can lift a finger. Just stay still. And don’t talk.”

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by the whole don’t talk part, but then he pressed the icy bundle against my cheek, causing me to suck in a sharp breath.

“They could have gotten one of the Luxen to heal you, but your refusing to fight back isn’t going to make it easy on you.” He pressed the ice bag down, and I drew back. “Try to keep that in mind when you go to the training room next time.”

I started to scowl, but it hurt. “Oh. Like this is my fault.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Fighting them is wrong,” I said after a few seconds. “I’m not going to self-destruct.” Or at least I hoped I wasn’t. “Making them do that is…is inhumane. And I won’t—”

“You will,” he said simply. “You’re no different than them.”

“No different.” I started to sit up, but he pinned me with a look that had me settling back down. “Mo doesn’t even seem human anymore. None of them do. They’re like robots.”

“They’re trained.”

“T-Trained?” I sputtered as he moved the ice to my chin. “They’re mindless—”

“It doesn’t matter what they are. You keep doing this? Not fighting back, not giving Sergeant Dasher what he wants, you’re going to keep being a human punching bag. And what does that solve? One of these days, one of the hybrids will kill you.” He lowered his voice, so low that I wondered if the microphones could even pick it up. “And what happens to the one who mutated you? He will die, Katy.”

Pressure clamped down on my chest and a whole different kind of pain surfaced. At once, I saw Daemon in my head—that ever-present, infuriating smirk on his expressive face—and I missed him so badly a burning crawled up my throat. My hands curled under the blanket as a hole opened up in my chest.

Several minutes passed in silence, and while I lay there, staring at his brown-and-white-camouflaged shoulder, I searched for something to say, anything to drive the emptiness out of me, and I finally came up with something.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You probably shouldn’t talk anymore.” He switched the bag of ice to his other hand.

I ignored that, because I was pretty sure I’d go crazy if I kept silent. “Are there really Luxen out there who want to take over? Others like Shawn?”