Recrudescence Read online

  RECRUDESCENCE

  Copyright © 2020 by K. R. Leikvoll

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

  rev. date 4/2/2020

  Book 3 of the Ashes Saga

  by

  K. R. Leikvoll

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements:

  For my crazy, wacky, adventurous family, Sonja & Del.

  "While I thought that I was learning how to live,

  I have been learning how to die,”

  —Leonardo da Vinci.

  Recrudescence: noun, the recurrence of an undesirable condition.

  PROLOGUE

  Dreams are strange… It’s like a thick layer of mist drags you so far beneath the depths you can’t remember if you’ve ever lived in true reality. Sometimes it’s so deep, so dark, all that exists is the dream. What was real life in the first place? Have I ever laughed? Have I ever cried? Is there anything that exists outside of the mist?

  I really wish the answer was no.

  Trust me, I do.

  Everything made sense in that place. I was Valentine, just Valentine. The only other thing that existed was a shadow behind me that wasn’t so scary if I ignored it. If I kept walking further and further into the fog, it was sort of like I was alone. Being alone was better than the alternative.

  The thing about reality is that it’s gritty and grungy. It’s sharp and rough around the edges. Full of pain, blood, tears, and lies. Everything seems so chaotic and complicated. Here, it was nothing. Soothing in comparison to reality that’s absolute hell.

  But the worst part about falling in love with a dream is waking up.

  It’s unavoidable.

  One moment you find yourself in some sort of respite from the suffering.

  The next you are human once again.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Beeping was the first sound to greet me when I was roused from my coma. It was steady and loud, instantly annoying. I was too heavy to even think of sitting up, not only physically, but mentally as well. Somewhere between here and the dream, I lost track of my name, my identity… everything. The rapid flashing images erupting on the inside of my eyelids were consuming me.

  Fire. Blood. Ash.

  A black monster tall enough to scrape the heavens.

  It was hard to focus on anything except the mental sight of a horrifying crimson eye. I fought through the grogginess, becoming aware of my situation. My hands twisted angrily, but they were pinned beyond my ability to move. My legs were strapped to something as well. Even though my mind was desperate, my body moved sluggishly in response. I had to be drugged.

  The abrupt sound of a heavy door opening startled me into lying still and pretending to be asleep. A murmur of accented voices I didn’t understand grew closer. As much as I wanted to open my eyes, I don’t think I could have. I was afraid, but I didn’t have a reason for it. One man’s voice was quiet and timid, but more natural sounding. The other was rough and forced as if he was unsure of what he was saying.

  “Benvenuto, tu devi essere il contatto di Marius. Piacere!” the timid sounding man said.

  Silence for a few moments.

  “È questa la ragazza?” the other man’s voice replied. I didn’t understand him, but he sounded blunt in his strange words.

  “Si. L'abbiamo trovato gravemente ferita in un bosco in Estonia,” the softer voice said. It was some sort of affirmation of the other man’s question.

  I felt something brush my left hand nearly making me fling myself from the bed. With how sluggish I was, I wouldn’t have been able to do much, but it took all my conscious effort to stay still.

  “Ti dispiace se parliamo Inglese? Parlo solo poco Italiano…” the rough sounding man replied after a moment.

  “Ah yes, my apologies,” the other voice said, just as accented as before. Part of me recognized his words yet my mind still refused to comprehend them. “She had to be given an MRI instead of x-rays because we could not get anything but –” he paused, thinking of the word to say, “– distorted images. The most worrisome thing was a cranial scan that showed severe brain trauma. She also had splenic damage and deep tissue scarring from some sort of sharp object. She’s missing a uterus as well – unusual. My colleagues and I first believed her to be the victim of kidnapping and mutilation.”

  “And?” the rough man’s voice asked impatiently.

  “We noticed a sort of crystalline ring on her middle finger. We thought it might be related to a mass of black webbing on her side. When we attempted to remove the ring –” his voice paused and never continued.

  “And that’s why we were called, I see. Yeah, definite Archon technology. Don’t worry, doc, we have a special place to deal with people like this,” the rough man said with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

  “You don’t intend to harm her, do you?” the physician hesitantly asked the visitor.

  “We won’t do anything unnecessary. So, give us a hand and shoot her up with whatever you got so she doesn’t wake up. We don’t need any disturbances,” the other replied irritated. I heard the sound of tapping, beeping, papers being moved. My mind couldn’t take it anymore.

  I opened my eyes and looked around as if I had never opened them before. I was in a hospital. An actual hospital, not some fucking infirmary carved out of stone. It was familiar, and yet, it was completely foreign.

  My gaze moved slowly from the television in the corner talking about something in a different language to the machines I was hooked up to. I recognized the oxygen tubes, a few IV drips, and the sight of the hospital gown. My hands were bound with medical restraints attached to the bed, but my right hand was in some sort of metal encasing.

  On the far wall hung a few images. I couldn’t read the labels, but it appeared to be of my brain. According to that image, I had a hole the size of a golf ball in between my frontal and temporal lobes. That couldn’t be right. I didn’t feel as though I was missing part of my brain.

  In fact, my brain w
as forced to expand.

  Almost like I had someone else living with me.

  My head slowly shifted toward the door where the two men were. I only caught a glimpse of the man wearing a simple suit and sunglasses before the sight of the doctor filled my view. We made contact and I saw terror in his eyes I couldn’t understand. Neither of us said a word – not like I could. Instead, he blocked me fully and pushed down a plunger connected to one of my tubes.

  It was only a moment before I became overwhelmed with warmth as if I were on a cloud. Normally, it would have been appreciated. Instead, all I could feel was fear as multiple men in suits filed into the room with guns in their hands. The doctor was shouting something I couldn’t understand about it too, but they shoved him to the side and moved toward me.

  I tried to resist as limply as I could. Someone was unlocking my restraints. Before I went back to my drug-induced dreamland, all I saw was a black cloth being pulled over my head.

  I was in a room sitting near a fire at a small table. Each side was occupied by another person. They were all incredibly familiar, but I couldn’t put faces to names and stories. It hurt to look at them for some reason, even though I had no glimmer of an idea who they were.

  The first man, across from me, was the one I gravitated toward. He had scruffy blond hair and green eyes with tanned peachy skin. A kind smile was enough for me to almost not notice the circular scar under his eye. His friendly demeanor made me feel safe.

  To my right was another man that took me longer to recognize than the first. He was far taller than the other two, with a narrow face and long black hair. His eyes were almost white they were so silver, practically lighting up the area around us. I felt the urge to touch him though I wasn’t sure why. Seeing him broke my heart and it confused me.

  The last person I tried to avoid looking at altogether until I had to. He was a lot busier appearance-wise than the others. It nearly gave me a headache to be near the shadows that seemed to ripple off his being. The space was so dense with his energy, I felt sick. His face was youthful, angular shaped with full lips and high cheekbones. When our eyes met, I was startled to see that they were black and red with no white surrounding his cornea. They clashed against his gaudy, young appearance. It was as if I were staring into some sort of void or chasm infinitely old. Beyond his face, he had pitch-black hair that was less gray-toned than the man on my right. He wore earrings in both his ears, rings on his fingers, and platinum chains looped around his neck. A golden goblet twirled in his hands even though it was completely empty.

  “It’s about time you woke up,” he said to me with a smile that made me feel insecure.

  “Where am I?” I asked slowly through the fog.

  “You’re dreaming again. Beyond that, Earth… though I couldn’t tell you where exactly.”

  “Who are you?”

  One of his hands brushed my pale hair out of my face, but I didn’t react. It was as if he couldn’t help touching me. I waited for his response, eerily aware of how silent the other men were.

  “I’m all you’ll ever need,” he replied as impassioned as he could without raising his voice, which was soft unlike his barbed demeanor.

  “And they are?” I asked, peering at the other two men. Both were staring back at me with small smiles and kind eyes, but they were blank. Dead even.

  The man to my left glanced annoyed at the others and sighed.

  “What your mind chose to comfort you because you are afraid,” he said, fidgeting with his goblet in a bored manner.

  “I’m confused, not afraid,” I snapped sharply. He met my gaze again and chuckled.

  The other two men disappeared as if they had never been there in the first place. He might have been right because when they left I felt uncomfortable.

  “Maybe you should be. I’m not entirely sure what’s waiting outside.”

  “I don’t even know who I am,” I mumbled to myself, flexing my hands. I couldn’t help staring at the familiar clear ring on my finger.

  The man stood abruptly and threw his chair out of the way. He took one step forward and kneeled in front of me, pulling my right hand toward him, daring to brush his lips to the ring.

  “You are everything I’ve worked for. Years of research and failed attempts, and yet here we are. My finest creation.” He said it as a compliment, but it repelled me instead.

  “I don’t understand.” I took my hand away. He could see my discomfort, yet he still decided to stand and force my sitting body against his abdomen.

  “Oh, you will, my child. You will.”

  A heavy ache around my wrists and ankles caused me to break through the bizarre dream. I was being restrained again. Somewhere different this time, though I wasn’t sure where. It appeared to be a solid white-gray box with only my strange hospital bed in it. A dozen different machines I had never seen before surrounded me on both sides, conjoining to various tubes connecting to my body. It was so bright from fluorescent lights, I thought I was going to go blind.

  For a moment I was seemingly alone, but the man from the dream had followed me out. He inched near my face from the side.

  “We seem to be being held prisoner. Escape should be our number one priority,” the man’s voice whispered inside my mind. His lips never moved.

  “How? Can’t you let me out?” I asked curiously as he stood free from restraints. He shook his head no.

  “I could get you out if I were in control… so to speak,” he said, physically pacing around me in a circle. “But I wouldn’t ever do such a thing without your permission.”

  Something about his words made me feel cautious. I didn’t want to trust him even though I had no reason not to. Maybe it was this strange vibe that he wasn’t being honest. Verbally he was, but his tone and friendliness all seemed false.

  Despite that, I was still compelled to agree with him. I wasn’t sure what the men with guns wanted with me and it’s not like I planned on sticking around to find out. I was about to consent to whatever it was he wanted verbally and mentally when an electric sliding door opened on the far side of the room. My companion decided to walk around behind my bed near my left shoulder as a man with mousy gray hair approached us. He didn’t seem to notice my companion.

  “Ah, my favorite subject is finally awake,” he said, scanning over a clipboard. I still couldn’t understand his jumbled words. All it did was frustrate me.

  I struggled against the restraints, aggravated.

  “Where am I?” I said far louder than him, practically yelling. He laughed.

  “Now, now that won’t do. Do you speak English? We won’t be able to get an accurate interview if you aren’t able to answer me,” he said, only furthering my irritation. The man behind me leaned close to my ear.

  “You are still adjusting. We haven’t spoken in your native tongue in a while.”

  “What… is… your… name?” the doctor asked slowly and clearly so I could understand. And this time I did. English was fuzzy and it sounded garbled.

  “Valentine,” I whispered so quietly it was more like I mouthed it. My thoughts were so stalled and confusing. I’m not sure why I said Valentine. I wasn’t sure what my name was. It didn’t feel right.

  “You do speak English! Perfect,” the doctor responded, writing something down. “Last name?”

  My mind was blank. I didn’t respond.

  “Hm, from what we were able to gather, you match up with a girl named Valentine Ivyson that went missing a while back. Does any of this sound familiar?”

  That didn’t sound right either. I didn’t respond. The doctor flipped some pages over and cleared his throat.

  “Valentine Ivyson, age twenty, was reported missing on October 19th after disappearing from her Eugene home. There was blood found on the upstairs carpet and her jacket was located in the woods nearby. The police have not determined the nature of the incident, though they believe that she may have been fighting off an attacker. That was back in 2016.”

  None of it was r
ecognizable.

  “And it says this on the next page –” the doctor continued. “Valentine Ivyson has been pronounced dead after her disappearance from her home in Oregon. The case went cold with insufficient evidence, as police were not able to determine if it was a kidnapping, runaway, or homicide case. Ring any bells?”

  I slowly shook my head no. The word Oregon was something that stuck out to me, but beyond that, it sounded like a different person. The doctor smiled instead of becoming upset that I didn’t remember.

  “Miss Ivyson, why don’t we talk about something else?” he said, pulling a thermos from the small bag he had with him. “But first, are you thirsty?”

  I didn’t respond. That wouldn’t stop me from gulping down the fabled water he tipped into my mouth. I chugged it down so fast I almost choked. The doctor put his flask into the bag and grabbed a wheeled stool.

  “What can you tell me about the device on your hand?” he asked, rolling toward me.

  The device on my hand? I could feel something sitting on my middle finger in the encasing. Beyond that, I couldn’t remember anything about it. I didn’t respond. He sighed.

  “We know you have Archon technology, Miss Ivyson. You were responsible for the death of sixteen doctors and staff members at an Italian hospital. If you are cooperative with our questions and studies, I can guarantee nobody will find out about the Florence incident,” the doctor told me in hopes that it would stir a reply.

  The death of sixteen doctors? Me?

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered, my voice cracking.

  “I fear I’m going to hear those words from you a lot,” he replied, shrugging. “Ah well, we will learn what we need in one way or another. I hate to be the bad guy, so if you get the urge to share… just let me know.”

  The doctor removed a metal syringe full of an unidentifiable fluid and an alcohol swab. The smell made my insides twist for some reason. He wiped a spot on my neck and disposed of the trash in his pocket.