J. Spelbring: Perfection

Ellyssa chewed on her bottom lip and nodded.

“My hair hurts. I never knew someone’s hair could hurt.”

She laughed. It felt good. Painful, but good. To think, in her previous life, something like that would’ve been locked away inside her, never to be fully experienced.

The corners of Rein’s mouth curled upward. His lips looked delicious. Ellyssa leaned over and kissed him. His mouth opened to hers, and she tasted him as electricity found home in her veins. She wanted to stay with her lips locked on his, but she pulled away.

“We have to go,” she said turning toward the building.

Woody had done an awesome job placing the explosives as directed. The Center had collapsed inward. There was nothing left but a pile of twisted metal and charred bricks. Her father’s work had been destroyed.

“I know,” he said, stroking her cheek.

Reluctant to find what lay ahead for them, Ellyssa pulled herself onto her feet. Without her aid, Rein stood up; the aftereffects of Aalexis’ torture must’ve diminished under the flood of adrenaline.

“Let’s go home,” Rein said.

Ellyssa inwardly cringed at the mention of home. At the time, Rein must not have comprehended what her father had said about their home in Missouri. She didn’t have the heart to tell him yet. He’d been through so much.

Without saying anything, she took his hand, and together, they limped farther away from the burning building toward the chain-link fence that surrounded the property. From there, they sidled along the fence until they reached the front. Rows and rows of workers stared straight ahead at the blaze. Flashing lights from the emergency vehicles doused them in red and blue.

Staying close to the fence, away from the lights and people, they made their way to the sign at the entrance. Ellyssa turned around and watched the reddish-orange glow. Hungry flames flicked through the debris, trying to consume all that was left.

“Do you think this is why Jeremy reached out to me?”

“Yes.”

“It’s not over,” she said.

“I know. But together, we can make it though whatever awaits us.”

With Rein’s hand in hers, she turned and walked away from the burning remnants of her old life, in search of Woody.

Aalexis walked around piles of bricks and plaster and twisted metal with Xaver at her side. She held his hand, which was strange. Contact with each other had always been forbidden, but his touch was… comforting.

The elevator shaft lay ahead of them, their only escape route. She hoped the cables would support their weight so they could climb to safety.

Extraordinary. The unfolding of events that had brought them into the hallway with loosely hanging lights and crumpled walls.

Before, when she had first opened her eyes after Ellyssa had knocked her out, she’d had no idea where she was. Bright red light reflected off a white ceiling, and an ache throbbed in the back of her skull. She’d turned her head and seen someone else stir. It’d taken her a moment to recognize her brother.

“Xaver,” she’d called. “I need you.”

He had responded right away and was at her side.

Then, the first explosion shattered from above. The sound had been deafening. The room had quaked and pieces of ceiling had rained down on them.

Xaver’s eyes had widened, an unfamiliar expression to the both of them, then he’d covered Aalexis with his body. Even after their father’s death, he had obeyed his orders to protect her at all costs.

After all, she was the superior one.

She was the most powerful.

Safe inside Xaver’s shield, she had watched as everything her father had worked for crashed down around them as explosion after explosion rocked the building. Then, Ahron had burst through the debris and into the room, flickering in and out of existence. Unfortunately, Ahron couldn’t maintain the strength of his gift. The last explosion had ripped his body apart as shrapnel tore through him.

Aalexis and Xaver had remained protected inside his impenetrable shield.

When the last explosion had faded away, she’d tried to leave, but he’d held her in place.

“Wait,” he’d warned.

Even after things had quieted down, bits of plaster and ceiling fell randomly and without warning. The building had to settle before they could safely venture out.

Her brother had saved her life again.

They finally reached the mangled shaft. The elevator lay crumpled below, in a pile of junk. Chunks of wood and metal dangled dangerously from above, but so did the cables. She could hear the crackle of fire.

Xaver grabbed one and yanked hard. The cable held fast.

She looked at the thick bundle, and then at her brother. “Will we survive?”

“I will protect you.” He handed her the cable. “You ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied.

With vengeance on her mind, she crawled out from the tomb her sister had tried to bury them in.

THE END

There are so many people who I would like to thank for helping me as I plucked away on Perfection. If I could only express my appreciation to each of you for all you have done to see me through.

I’d like to start with my awesome beta readers: J.A. Souders, Willow Cross, LM Preston, Bethany Ray-Goodman, Roza kat Marie, Kristie Cook, and Charlie, and a special acknowledgement to Gina Panettieri. Thank you all for pointing out stupidity and helping me shape Perfection into what it is today.

A truckload of gratitude and virtual cupcakes to my agent, Lauren Hammond. If you hadn’t taken a chance on me, then Perfection would probably still be a file on my memory stick, taunting me. I owe you so much.

Thank you to the wonderful, not to mention awe-inspiring, people at Spencer Hill Press. None of this would have happened without you. To Kate Kaynak, for seeing in Perfection what I could see. You are wonderful, and I can’t even begin to thank you enough. And to Vikki Ciaffonec katz, for not only holding my hand, but turning on a flood light so that I could avoid bumping into walls. You just rock. I owe everyone at SHP, including Rich Storrs and Alex Bennett, a standing ovation and a jet-full of thanks.

And a huge thanks to my extremely creative daughter who played the brainstorming game with me, my two super-intelligent sons for believing in me, and to my granddaughter who is just so awesome words can’t even describe. None of you thought I was just wasting my time, which is just cool. You four are my pillars.

Photo by Trista Semmel

Judy lives in Texas, where she wanders out in the middle of the night to look at the big and bright stars. Besides knocking imaginary bad guys in the head with a keyboard, she enjoys being swept away between the pages of a book, running amuck inside in her own head, pretending she is into running, and hanging out with her kids, who are way too cool for her.