by Jena Leigh
They jumped, and Declan found himself saying a silent prayer of thanks for Alex’s affectionate gesture. Without it, they surely would have been wrenched apart again.
This wasn’t a normal jump.
The pain, the pressure, the silence. It was the same sensation he’d experienced when he’d been trapped in limbo during their initial journey to the past.
But how?
She’d lost the weather ability that should have made this sort of jump possible.
Hadn’t she?
A small eternity passed before the pressure abated and the two of them went crashing down onto the hardwood floor of a sun-drenched room, next to a familiar looking recliner.
Aiden’s recliner. The same one he’d had with him in Newport.
Well, until Masterson torched his apartment and the recliner had—quite literally—bit the dust.
The quiet commentary of a golf tournament coming from the television beside them was interrupted by a startled voice exclaiming, “Son of a freaking bitch!”
Declan ignored the voice, choosing instead to inspect the dazed girl kneeling on the floor beside him. Alex’s skin was white as a sheet and glistening with a thin layer of sweat. Her lips were stained crimson.
With trembling fingers she wiped away the blood.
“Nate!” Trent’s voice was shouting. “Aiden, it’s them! They’re back!”
Somewhere behind Declan, a glass door slid open.
He put a hand to Alex’s cheek and was surprised to find it freezing cold. Reaching for the blanket on the recliner beside him, he unfolded it and draped the thin fabric over her shoulders.
Alex continued to stare dumbly at the floor.
“What happened to her?” Nate asked, crouching beside Alex. He reached out to touch her cheek, then jerked his hand back in surprise. Accusingly, he added, “She’s cold as ice, Declan.”
Declan noted the sunlight streaming in from the glass doors and asked, “How long?”
“What?” asked Trent. He had been sitting on the couch when they arrived, and now stood hovering over them, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.
“How long?” Declan repeated. “How long has it been since Trent and I met you down by the water, Nate? A day? A week?”
Nate and Aiden exchanged an unreadable glance.
“Six months,” said Aiden, finally. “You’ve been gone for six months.”
Nineteen
Nathaniel inspected the dazed girl sitting before him, taking in her pallor, her vacant eyes and the crimson stain around her mouth. All telltale signs of an ability pushed past its limits.
He had never given up his belief that he’d see the girl again one day, even though the others had long since abandoned any hope of it happening while they were still living in Seattle.
Beside him, Declan’s expression was twisted into a grimace. “Six months? We were gone that long?”
“We all just assumed you’d gone back to your own time,” Aiden called from the kitchen.
“No,” said Nate, not bothering to hide his annoyance. “You assumed that, Aiden. And you were the only one.”
“Hang on.” Declan looked over his shoulder at Trent. “Six months, and you’re still in Seattle?”
Trent shrugged. “I told you I was looking for a change of pace. After you two disappeared, I decided to stick around and make a go of it.”
And he had.
After Declan and Alex disappeared, Trent found part-time work in Lincoln’s shop as a tattoo artist, and then a second job tending bar at the Wheelhouse. He and Nate rented a place in Belltown just a few weeks after that.
Ignoring the discussion around him, Nate reached out to brush a lock of Alex’s hair from her face.
In a voice far more gentle than the one he’d directed toward Aiden, he leaned closer and asked, “What happened?”
Alex could only shake her head.
“She was trying to teleport us here from the waterfront,” said Declan, “but something went wrong. We ended up in limbo.”
“Limbo?” asked Nate.
His brother reached down and took Alex’s hand, entwining his fingers with hers. She spared Declan a glance and what passed for a smile, before becoming very interesting in the wood paneled flooring again.
Aiden reappeared with a wet towel for Alex and two bottles of water. Declan accepted the waters and Alex, the towel. She wiped gingerly at her mouth and nose, but her gaze never left the ground.
“It’s what I’ve started calling that weird… dimension… we travel through while teleporting,” Declan explained. “The place that creates the suffocating sensation you experience during a jump. But these jumps through time are different somehow. They leave us trapped there in limbo until we can lock on to both a time and a destination. What I don’t understand, is how it’s still happening now, when Alex’s time travel ability should have faded out ages ago.”
At that, Aiden looked to Nate. He nodded in agreement. Declan’s assessment had just confirmed what they’d already suspected.
Declan narrowed his eyes at the exchange. “What? What’s that look for?”
Aiden cleared his throat. “We had some time to theorize about Alex’s abilities while you two were gone.”
The room fell silent. Declan got back to his feet, clearly impatient for an explanation.
When Aiden didn’t continue, Nate took the lead. “When Alex was first explaining her ability to us, she said that she could only hold on to her borrowed powers for a couple of days, at most.”
“Yeah,” said Declan. “They fade out after a while unless she’s able to refresh them.”
Nate nodded. “Yeah, well, this ability Alex absorbed that allows her to manipulate time? We don’t think it ever actually faded,” he said. “The night you and Trent arrived in Seattle? Earlier that day, Alex managed to freeze time and save some people in a crosswalk from being hit by a van.”
“She did what?” Declan asked.
Alex nodded. “They’re right, Decks. The ability hasn’t faded yet. But something about it is just… off,” she said, her exhaustion evident in her voice. “I can’t teleport anymore. Not without getting stuck in limbo along the way. This ability is somehow different than the others. I don’t think it will fade until I take us back home. And even then…”
Alex scrubbed tiredly at her face.
“Hang on. Isn’t this a good thing?” asked Trent. “If you still have the ability, then you still have a way to get back home, right?”
Alex shook her head, closing her eyes again. “That’s just it,” she said. “I might still have the ability to travel through time, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have the strength I’ll need in order to successfully pull it off. When we jumped just now, it took everything I had just to get the two of us back here. I had no idea where or when—or even if—we’d arrive. And pulling us out of limbo completely drained me.”
She struggled to open the cap on the water before eventually giving up and setting it back on the floor in front of her, glaring at it in annoyance.
Declan picked up the bottle, twisted it open, and handed it back to her.
After taking a long swig, she added. “I can easily get us back to limbo, Declan. But there’s no guarantee I’ll ever be able to get us back out again. We could end up trapped there. For good.”
After Alex and Declan awoke from a much needed nap, the group relocated to Lincoln’s shop, where Trent was currently finishing up a late shift. The shop was mostly empty this time of night on a weekday, anyway, and Aiden’s apartment had gotten a little claustrophobic with so many people suddenly taking up space in his living room.
“She’s staring out that window like he’s never coming back.”
Alex registered Aiden’s mumbled observation, but didn’t turn. Instead, she watched the darkened city street carefully, observing the handful of people traversing the sidewalks and scanning their faces as they ambled past the tattoo parlor.
Catching the familiar, dark gray shad
es of Declan’s jacket in her peripheral vision, Alex glanced quickly to her left.
Peacoat.
Not him.
She sighed.
Behind her, Nate whispered, “Can you blame her, after everything they’ve been through?”
“Decks went out to pick up pizza,” said Aiden. Alex could practically hear the eye roll attached to his reply. “Not to enlist in the French Foreign Legion.”
Alex shifted her weight from one foot to the other, resisting an urge to pace.
Her current decision to remain glued to the picture window at the front of the parlor had less to do with worry and more to do with impatience, but she didn’t see the point in correcting them.
She wanted to get this show on the road, and Declan was currently holding up the works. He’d left to pick up dinner almost twenty minutes earlier, and was now taking his sweet time returning to the parlor.
During that time, Nate and Aiden had refused to give her more than a cursory update about the Scientist murders. The boys insisted that they wait for Declan so they wouldn’t be stuck repeating themselves again later.
Alex was itching to hear more details—and to get back to work on unraveling the case. All she knew for certain was that the murders were still unsolved. Regardless of how much time had passed, Alex had made Jezza a promise—one she fully intended to keep.
Blowing out a breath of frustration, Alex spun on her heel, left her place at the window and sank down beside Nate on one of the twin, cherry red couches in the waiting area.
The furniture fit well with the brightly colored art covering the walls. Tattoo designs mingled with sprawling murals, neon signs, and the occasional black and white photograph. It all contrasted nicely with the worn, but clean, black and white checkered floors. Above them, the high, exposed ceiling added to the feeling of openness.
The parlor itself was half as wide as it was long and offered plenty of room for the row of chairs and artists’ stations that led back toward a line of lighted drawing tables, and a glass enclosed office at the rear of the building. Somewhere past that, Alex assumed she’d find the door leading down to the basement where she’d first met Lincoln and Jezza.
Alex nodded toward Nate’s laptop bag, which was sitting on the couch beside him. “What was on Linus’ flash drive?”
“Not much,” said Nate. “Nothing helpful, anyway.”
“Do you still have it?” she asked.
He nodded.
“Can I see it?”
If they weren’t going to tell her what had happened in the time she was gone, she could at least review what had happened before she left.
Nate reached into the bag and withdrew both his laptop and a small thumb drive, then opened the computer on his lap and plugged it in.
He clicked open a few of the files before placing the laptop on the coffee table in front of them, turning it so that Alex could see the screen for herself.
Not wanting to lean forward as she perused the files, she picked up the laptop and set it in her own lap.
From what little she’d managed to gather from Nate, four more Variants had fallen victim to the Seattle Scientist during the first month Alex and Declan were trapped in limbo. That brought the total number of murders to nine, but there were no other murders officially attributed to the killer after that.
They had no details on the most recent killings, but Linus’ flash drive included all the information the Agency had regarding the first five murders, which was almost nothing. The killer had a simple modus operandi: stalk, corner, kill. Other than that, there wasn’t much to go on.
The Agency files did, however, offer an overabundance of facts and analysis on the victims: vital statistics, lifetime accomplishments, names of family and friends.
Most of the victim’s files included sub-folders containing dozens of photographs, often showing the deceased smiling wide for the camera. Yearbook photos, company picnics—even some more personal images that Alex was almost certain had been culled from each victim’s social media accounts.
There were other pictures, too, in separate folders labeled with the location of each murder.
When she went to click on the first of the thumbnails in one such folder, Nate’s hand came to rest atop hers.
“I wouldn’t,” he said.
“Wouldn’t what?” asked Aiden. From his spot on the opposite couch, he couldn’t see what she’d meant to click on. “You talking about those crime scene photos? Yeah. I wouldn’t, either. In fact, I really wish I hadn’t. Often multiple times a day.”
Aiden rubbed at his eyes and grimaced as though he were trying to scrub away the memory.
“The details in the newspapers are all you really need,” said Nate. “You’re not going to learn anything else from seeing it firsthand. Trust me.”
Reluctant, but willing to take Nate at his word, Alex went back to perusing the victims’ profiles.
Something immediately stood out.
Dragging her finger across the trackpad, Alex flipped through the material for each victim and shrank them so that they would all fit on the screen.
“All of these victims have something in common,” she said, placing the laptop back on the coffee table and turning it so that both Nate and Aiden could scan the files.
A soft bell chimed as the front door slid open, bringing a rush of cool night air into the parlor.
A familiar halo of pink and blonde braids caught Alex’s eye, and she turned to find Jezza walking in, too preoccupied with the cell phone in her hands to notice her presence.
“Hey, babe!” Trent called from the back of the shop. “I’m almost finished. Just another ten minutes or so.”
Babe?
Alex caught Aiden’s eye and gestured vaguely between Jezza and Trent.
They’re together?
Aiden nodded an amused affirmative.
Alex wondered when and how that had happened.
Jezza turned toward the waiting area, finally looking up from the phone in her hand. When her green eyes caught sight of Alex on the couch, her eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“New Girl!” she breathed, awe in her tone. “You’re alive!”
Alive? Exactly how had Nate and Aiden explained her sudden departure?
Jezza sank down beside Alex on the couch, dropped her purse to the floor and pulled Alex into a bone crushing embrace.
“Geez, New Girl. When you left like that you scared the crap out of me! And then when a week passed and the boys still couldn’t find you, I thought for certain that the Scientist… I mean, Aiden kept saying you probably just went home, but what does he know, anyway?”
On the couch opposite, Aiden huffed in annoyance.
“And with the way Nate was so worried, I just…” Jezza trailed off. She finally loosened her hold, pushing Alex out to arms length as she looked her over. “It’s good to see you again. And I’m really glad you’re okay.”
Alex couldn’t hide her surprise. She had no idea she’d made such an impression in so short a time.
She felt bad for the worry she’d caused Jezza, even if it had been unintentional.
“So?” Jezza asked. She looped her arm through Alex’s as she settled in beside her. “Where have you been? And why did you leave?”
“I, um…” Alex mumbled. “Well, I didn’t exactly leave by choice.”
Before she could scrounge up a proper explanation, the front door chimed a second time and the missing member of their group came strolling through. Declan held a stack of pizza boxes balanced carefully on one palm as a two liter of soda dangled from the fingers of his other hand.
He caught sight of the pink-haired girl clinging tightly to Alex and raised an eyebrow in question.
“Who…?” Declan began.
“No way,” said Jezza in the same moment. “Declan O’Connell? What are you doing in Seattle?”
“I, uh,” said Declan. “It’s kind of… complicated.”
Jezza furrowed a brow.
“Um, D
eclan,” Alex said before Jezza could ask him anything else. “This is Jezza. Jezza, I guess you already know who Declan is.”
“Not many Variants left who don’t,” said Jezza. “Especially after what you and John Grayson did in LA on Christmas Eve. You saved a lot of lives that day.”
Declan, for whatever reason, winced.
“So if you’re here,” Jezza continued, “then does that mean you’ve agreed to help us?”
“Help you?” Alex repeated.
“With stopping the Scientist murders,” said Jezza. “Aiden promised me he’d ask you for help.”
Declan and Alex both turned a curious gaze toward Aiden, who suddenly looked very guilty.
Aiden shifted in his seat. “Yeah, Jezz,” he said. “About that, I never really…”
“I’ll help,” said Declan. “It’s why Alex and I are still… I mean, it’s why we’re here, now. We’re going to try to find him.”
Jezza looked relieved. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all year! He needs to be stopped.”
“Stopped?” Alex echoed. “Wait. Are you saying he’s still killing Variants?”
Jezza nodded. “The papers aren’t talking about it anymore, because the norms all think he left off at nine victims. That he stopped killing people back in December. But he didn’t. He just changed his M.O., and the police never made the connection. Naturally, the Agency is trying to keep it all quiet, but it’s true. He’s still out there killing Variants up and down the Pacific Coastline, once a week, like clockwork.”
“Alex,” said Nate. “Before Jezza got here you said that the first five victims all had something in common. What did you mean?”
Alex leaned forward and gestured toward a section of one profile where the words “Final assessment: Minimal risk” had been typed in bolded print. The same assessment had been repeated in each of the five profiles.
“What does that mean, exactly?” asked Alex. “‘Minimal risk?’”
“It means,” said Aiden, “that when the Agency checked up on each of the victims at some point in the past, they decided that none of them could be considered a threat.”
“So they thought that none of them were likely to lose control in front of a human?” said Jezza.