She doesn’t feel diseased to me, although none of us really understand how this virus works. For all I know, it could’ve jumped from the diamond to the citrines or bled into any other gem nearby. Viruses don’t obey rules, not digital or physical.
I nod once. “Wesley, go ahead and hook the citrine into the servers.”
He shakes his head, jaw tight. “I don’t think it’s worth it. I have no idea what’s going on or how viruses are moving from rocks to people, but I’ve surmised that much.” Even so, he retakes his seat. His fingers hover over the keyboard, then curl into a fist.
“It’s too late,” I tell him, and the words scrape my throat. As if on cue, a thin whistle cuts through the silence. Fresh air hisses down through vents hidden somewhere in the ceiling. I pull a deep lungful and feel the tightness in my chest loosen. At least the bitch turned the oxygen back on.
I spread my hands across the surface of the citrine, unwilling to let go. “Come on, Wesley. It’s too late for me to stop now. I’ve already touched the stone.”
The surface thrums under my palms. Heat pools against my skin and spreads upward, quick and electric. I plant my feet shoulder-width apart, rolling my neck until it cracks. It’s been far too long since I exchanged energy with a rock this size, and my body is starved for it. My fingertips prickle, my calves twitch, and even my toes curl against the floor as the current sweeps through.
Wesley grumbles, a sound buried low in his chest, but he starts typing anyway. His fingers fly now, keys clicking in sharp bursts as he types in the code that links the center console to the entire system. I catch the set of his jaw in the glow of the monitors. He doesn’t like this.
Neither do I.
Most people have no idea how much strength a gem like this holds. They think jewels are for wearing, admiring, locking away in a museum. They don’t understand a stone this size can fuel an empire, power every corner of a social media network, while keeping the world distracted and hungry for more.
I lift my chin toward the blinking camera. “If I’m doing this, you might as well make it worthwhile. Have Corinda and Stacia start posting on TimeGem Moments right now. They can share good memories with other users and capture energy.” Every time somebody clicks “capture now” or “like” or “save,” more energy transfers into the system. If I’m going to do this, I want it all. Because this entire company is going to be mine again.
“I understand,” Sylveria replies. Her voice rattles through the speaker, distant, warped. “They’re already on it.”
“Good.” I close my eyes, steady my breath, and let the energy in. It rushes through my hands like molten gold, zipping into every nerve ending, racing along my veinsuntil my entire body sings. The hairs on my arms rise, then flatten again under the invisible pressure.
The crystal glows, a blinding yellow, and light fractures across the room in jagged shards. My chest expands with it, my pulse hammering in my throat.
“You good?” Wesley asks.
I don’t answer. I can’t. The power is too much, too wonderful. Maybe I’m feeding a virus into my blood, maybe I’m sealing my own end. But even if I am, this is the way I want to go.
The door clicks open and Sylveria strides inside. I’m too caught up in the energy exchange to care. The hum still thrums in my bones, every nerve buzzing. I can feel her presence press against mine, sharp and invasive, and I see it in her posture.
I’ve never seen her really try to charge a diamond until earlier, and the little she pulled then was nothing compared to what’s swirling around me now. The air pops with static, heating in jolts that make my skin prickle. My hair lifts, floating for a moment before falling again as the energy whips through the room.
I spend a good twenty minutes with the citrine, pushing and pulling, until finally I step back, lungs burning, chest wide open. I feel full—too full—and turn to face them.
Wesley pivots in his chair. His jaw goes slack. “Holy fuck.”
“What?” I ask.
“Your eyes. They’re gold. Yellow.”
I blink hard. I’ve never looked at my reflection while charging, and I haven’t handled a crystal this size in too long. “Really?”
“Yeah.” He blinks several times, as if trying to convincehimself it’s real. “Do Alana’s eyes turn aqua when she charges the aquamarines at Aquarius Social?” He stands so fast the chair tips backward. “Oh God. Don’t tell me Thorn’s or Justice’s eyes turn red when they charge their garnets.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never paid attention.” My pulse stutters. “I don’t think so. But what do I know?”
The air between us crackles. Wesley looks like he’s holding a secret he never wanted.
“So what’s your plan now?” I ask Sylveria.
Before she can answer, an explosion rocks the base. The entire room shudders like it’s alive, and a shockwave rattles my bones.
“Ah, crap.” Wesley lunges from his chair and yanks me aside, shielding me with his body. “What’s happening?”
I swallow, heat and ash already filling my lungs. “I have an idea.” I glance over at Sylveria. “You might want to let us go.”
Her face drains, pale as wet chalk. Another explosion tears through the space, the boom echoing until the walls vibrate. Ceiling panels rip loose and crash to the floor in a storm of dust. Wesley pulls me clear of the collapse, his grip bruising, his breath harsh against my ear.
