by Jena Leigh
His almond-shaped eyes and smooth facial features hinted at an Asian ancestry, but his accent was one-hundred percent Irish.
Kenzie had called him Murphy.
In some foggy corner of her mind, Alex wondered if that was his surname, or his given name.
“No,” said Declan. He was standing at Alex’s feet, staring down at her with his arms crossed. “She needs Holls.”
Who, or what, was a Holls?
“My sister?” asked Murphy. He stared up at Declan, incredulous. “And what bloody good’s she going to do?”
“No, he’s right,” said Kenzie. “We need to get her to Holly.”
Fifteen feet away, Oisin was struggling to get back on his feet. After a few false starts, he lurched upright.
He eyed the group disdainfully for a long moment, then spat out a mouthful of blood that landed just shy of Alex’s boots. He began staggering back toward the main road.
Declan started after him, but Alex called out his name and brought him up short.
“Let him go, Decks,” she said, flinching as the words left her mouth. A fresh stab of pain punctuated each syllable.
“He ought to be brought up on charges for this,” said Murphy. “We can still call the garda and have him arrested. You’re sure you want to let him go?”
Alex didn’t want the pain that came with answering out loud, and she couldn’t shake her head, so she attempted a shrug instead—then grimaced. That had hurt even worse.
They couldn’t press charges.
God. If Aunt Cil ever found out…
Alex laughed, and immediately regretted it.
Who was she kidding? Judging from the way the others were gaping at her, she looked nearly as bad as she felt. There would be no hiding any of this from her aunt.
Even more worrisome, Alex was scheduled to take the Agency’s test in less than 48 hours—and right now she couldn’t even stand.
“Where’s your sister, Murphy?” asked Declan, still tracking Oisin’s progress as he disappeared around the corner of the building.
“She’s at Uni,” he said. “Up in Dublin. But what does it matter? She’s of no help to us here.”
“Call her,” said Declan. “Find out where she is so I can go pick her up.”
“It’s the middle of exam week and two in the goddamned morning, O’Connell,” said Murphy. “She’ll crucify me if I call her right now. And this girl doesn’t need Holls, she needs a licensed physician.”
“Think, Murphy,” said Declan. “Have you seen the inside of Holly’s dorm room before?”
“Well, yeah, but—” Murphy cut himself short. His eyes widened. “Don’t even think about it, O’Connell!”
“Too late,” said Kenzie. “You already did.”
Murphy groaned.
“Did you get it, Decks?” asked Kenzie.
He jumped without answering.
It took Alex a long moment to work past the haze in her mind and make sense of what had just happened.
When Declan asked Murphy if he’d seen the inside of Holly’s dorm before, the Irishman obviously pictured the location in his mind.
Kenzie saw that image, memorized it, and sent it telepathically to Declan. He jumped, only to reappear moments later with a wild-haired, pajama-clad girl, who was screaming an impressive string of obscenities while she beat angrily against the hands encircling her upper arm.
“Holls!” Murphy yelled.
At the sound of her name, the girl paused in her struggles to take inventory of her new surroundings.
“Murph?” she said, confused. “The hell? What am I doing here? Where are we?”
Declan released his hold on Holly’s arm.
“Calm down, Holls,” said Murphy, getting to his feet and gesturing toward the building. “You’re home. Out back of McGinty’s.”
The girl whirled on Declan and thumped him hard on the chest. “You kidnapped me in the middle of the bloody night to take me to a pub, Decks? I swear to Christ, you’re a dead man, O’Connell. I’m going to… to…”
The girl trailed off, finally taking notice of Alex, who sat on the ground at Holly’s feet, her back propped against the side of the building as she watched the exchange through half-lidded eyes.
“What’s going on? Who’s the girl?” asked Holly, moving to kneel beside Kenzie at Alex’s side. “Who did this to her?”
“Oisin Dwyer,” said Murphy.
“The bastard. I knew that git weren’t right in the head, but I never expected he’d do something like this… You poor thing.”
“Take Alex’s hand, Holly,” said Declan.
“What?” she asked.
At the end of his patience, Declan crouched beside Alex in the space Murphy had just vacated, took a gentle hold of Alex’s good hand and a not-so-gentle hold of Holly’s, then quickly joined their two hands together.
For a while, nothing happened.
And then a tingling sensation spread across the right side of Alex’s face as her shattered cheekbone repaired itself. The split skin below her eye mended of its own accord. At the same time, a warmth spread through her wrist, and into her right side where Oisin punched her. The broken bones slid back into position with an odd popping sensation.
Alex pulled in a long breath, one now devoid of the clicking and bubbling.
She could breathe again.
Alex was healed.
She registered, with some distraction, that Cassie and Aiden had just rounded the corner, and that Cassie carried a red first aid kit in her hands.
“You’re okay!” cried Cassie. “How’s that possible?”
“What… What the hell just happened?” asked Murphy. “Did she just…?”
Declan’s insistence on finding Murphy’s sister suddenly made sense.
Holly was a Variant.
Alex had absorbed her power of regeneration.
For as long as she retained the ability, Alex would be able to heal herself of any wound, any sickness. She would be as close to immortal as it was possible for a Variant to get.
Holly pulled back her hand, staring at Alex in wonder.
Alex sat up, away from the wall, and reached a hand up to feel her face. The blood was still there, slowly caking on her cheek, but the wound itself had vanished without a trace.
“Lex?” said Declan, turning her name into a question.
Alex nodded in reply, a bit shaky, but otherwise back to normal.
“I’m okay,” she said and turned to the girl with the dark eyes and the pixie-like black hair, ablaze with electric blue highlights. “Thank you, Holly.”
“You’re welcome, of course, but… who are you?” asked Holly, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Better yet, what are you?”
Alex was starting to wonder if every Variant she met would be destined to ask her that same question.
“It’s complicated,” said Kenzie. “And for your own sake, it’s probably best that you never find out the answer.”
Holly finally seemed to take notice of the girl sitting beside her. Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline as she recognized Kenzie.
“Oh. My. God!” Holly pounced on Kenzie and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug. “Mackenzie! It’s you!”
“Oof!” said Kenzie, looking equally surprised. “Um… hi, Holls. Long time.”
“You’ve gotten so… so big, neighbor girl!” Holly let her loose and gave Kenzie what Alex interpreted as a very appreciative once-over, before sending an accusing glare at Declan. “You never told me how cute she was, Decks.”
“And with good reason, I’m sure,” said Murphy.
Holly huffed. “Watch it, Murph.”
Declan held out his hands to Alex and helped her back onto her feet.
As Holly verbally lit into her brother, Declan led Alex a few feet away from the group, toward the lone streetlight that lit the back of the building. She could still hear the sounds of laughter and the siblings bickering behind her, but it barely registered.
Declan gingerly ins
pected her wrist for signs of her former injury.
As he looked her over, Alex took a moment to study the unguarded expression on his face. It was a grim mix of concern and barely suppressed rage. Only once he was certain her wounds had mended did his features begin to soften.
“I’m fine, Declan,” she said. “Honest.”
He shifted his gaze from Alex’s wrist to her face, his brow furrowing as he met her eyes. Reaching up with hesitant fingers, he brushed his thumb across her mended cheekbone.
Alex covered Declan’s hand with her own, pressing his palm against her cheek.
“I’m fine.”
But Declan, on the other hand…
Alex raised her free hand to Declan’s brow, her fingers hovering just above his temple. A trickle of blood was slowly drying on his skin. Oisin had gotten in two good punches during their fight—and the second split the skin above his right eye.
Declan reached out and repeated Alex’s earlier motion, covering her hand with his own and pressing down against his cheek.
Closing his eyes, he gently rested his forehead against hers.
Alex sighed. “I’m sorry, Decks,” she said. “I shouldn’t have wandered off.”
“Don’t, Alex,” he said. “Don’t you dare apologize for what they did to you. This wasn’t your fault.”
Gently, Alex pulled away and took a step back.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, though this time for a different reason. “I can’t.”
Declan studied her for a long moment. “We should get you home,” he said finally.
A cool breeze rippled the branches of the trees lining the small creek, prompting Alex to pull her blazer more tightly around her. The material was wet and cold at her upper back.
She reached up a hand to examine it. Her fingertips came away wet.
Blood had soaked through her curls when the back of her head met with the cement wall, then caked onto her collar and the back of her blazer.
That must have been the blood Cassie had been so concerned about. In comparison, the cut on her cheek had hardly bled at all.
She and Declan rejoined the group just as Murphy was saying his goodbyes.
“Always an interesting night when you’re in town, O’Connell,” he said, “Though this one might have been a bit too interesting, for my taste. Call me if you make it home for your birthday next month. We’ll celebrate it good and proper.”
Declan’s smile seemed a bit forced. “Thanks, Murph.”
“So is anyone going to explain to me what happened here tonight?” asked Holly, her arms akimbo as she watched her brother slip around the corner of the building.
“Nope,” Declan replied.
She sighed. “One of these days, O’Connell, you’re going to come home and have a nice, quiet, normal evening out at McGinty’s. So long as it’s not the middle of exams, be sure to invite me along when you do. Oh, and bring your sister, too.”
In the soft glow of the streetlight, Alex could just make out Kenzie’s blush.
“Never gonna happen,” said Declan. “When have I ever had a nice, quiet, or normal evening here at home?”
“Eh. Good point,” she said. “Alright, ya’ dope.” Holly looped her arm through Declan’s. “Much as I’d love to stay for the craic, I’ve got an exam in four hours. Take me home, O’Connell? It was… strange meeting you all. But it was lovely seeing you again, Mackenz—”
She was cut off mid-sentence by Declan’s jump. He reappeared an instant later, sans Holly.
“We need to get home,” said Cassie. “Aunt Cil’s going to flip if she calls the house and we’re not back yet.”
“Which reminds me of the whole reason we came here,” said Kenzie. “Masterson’s been spotted in Bay View, so Cil and Grayson don’t want Alex left alone. Nate’s MIA so you two’ve been tagged for bodyguard duty.”
Declan and Aiden exchanged a look.
“Masterson’s in Bay View?” asked Aiden.
“Yeah,” said Cassie. “And what Cil and Grayson don’t know, is that he showed up at the opening gala tonight masquerading as Connor.”
Kenzie shuddered. “Still freaked out that I was standing right there in front of him and didn’t even have a clue. I mean, how many other times has that happened and I just didn’t realize it?”
“Masterson was at the party tonight?” asked Declan. His grim countenance slid back into place. “Dammit, Nate.”
Alex arched a brow. “What’s Nathaniel got to do with it?”
“He was supposed to be there with you at the gala,” said Aiden. “He never showed?”
Alex shook her head.
“He’s not answering his cell, either,” said Kenzie.
“Something must have come up,” said Aiden.
“Like what?” asked Declan. “And why didn’t he let one of us know about it?”
“Okay, Nate not showing up is weird, I’ll grant you,” said Cassie. “But we’ve got more important things to worry about right now.”
Cassie was right.
If Alex didn’t get back home, and fast, there’d be no keeping their detour to Ireland a secret. She needed to get rid of her stained and ragged clothing and wash the blood off ASAP.
But as the group jumped back home to Bay View, Alex couldn’t help but wonder… what had happened to Nate?
— 28 —
Nathaniel struggled with the handcuffs holding his arms behind his back. The jagged metal circles dug a little deeper into his wrists with every attempt.
He grimaced.
No dice. Whatever these cuffs were made out of, his TK wasn’t strong enough to break the connecting links.
Nate’s growl of frustration prompted his cellmate to turn away from the shiny black bars he’d been leaning against.
“Might as well stop trying,” said Aaron, his voice laced with resignation. “It’s the Agency. They wouldn’t stick us in any sort of cage we could easily bust out of.”
“Yeah, well.” Nate blew out another breath, still struggling against his restraints. “They could have at least taken the damn cuffs off after they threw us in here.”
Aaron leaned forward against the bars and attempted to peer down the hallway on the other side. There wasn’t much to see. Nate had already tried.
“Where is here?” asked Aaron, shifting to readjust his own restraints. “Any idea where they’ve brought us?”
Nate shook his head.
In truth, he had his suspicions, but there was no way to really know for sure which Agency black site they’d been taken to. There were four to choose from on the East Coast alone.
And those were just the ones he knew about.
Seating himself at the edge of one of the cots, Nate began shrugging his shoulders in a vain attempt to straighten out the neck of his dinner jacket.
At some point during Nate’s abduction, his coat had been dragged off his right shoulder. And—apparently—readjusting a jacket while handcuffed was, at best, an exercise in futility.
Sighing in defeat, he hung his head low and stared at his feet.
Four hours earlier, Nate had grudgingly accepted the opening gala guard duty so that Aiden and Declan could jump to Ireland for a night out.
After that scene at McRae’s, Nate caved to Declan’s request without much prodding. Guilt had turned him into a pushover, it would seem.
Brian warned Nate what Jessica had planned for the couple nearly two weeks earlier.
And Nate hadn’t done a damn thing to stop it from happening.
He told himself that it was out of his hands. That it was a set event. That to change it would risk changing the events still to come.
That he had no choice but to stand back, stay silent, and let it happen.
Which was a lie, of course. He’d always had a choice. Surely they could have changed things and still made it work, somehow.
But jealousy was a strong motivator. And it was a special sort of hell watching his brother and Alex together, knowing what he knew.
As a general rule, Nate despised social functions like those. Too much small talk. He usually spent half of the night tugging uncomfortably at his collar and the other half checking his watch.
Grayson dragged him to enough events like that one over the years that he’d more than had his fill.
And while being forced into a tux was a deterrent in and of itself—by attending the gala, he’d also be missing out on a pre-arranged meeting with the Director.
That woman did not like to be cancelled on.
In retrospect, Nate probably should have seen this coming.
Instead, he donned his monkey suit, walked out to the garage, and climbed obliviously into his Charger—where he was immediately tagged in the neck with a tranq dart. He took a nose dive into his steering wheel and then woke up here, in this bizarro cell.
He took a moment to more closely inspect the room, going so far as to lean back on the cot so that his fingertips could brush against the smooth, dark wall. It was cold to the touch.
The ceiling, the walls—even the closely spaced bars that looked out onto the empty hall—were all covered with a layer of shiny black glass. Obsidian, from the feel of it.
The unusual strength of the bars had him wondering if the obsidian was just a coating and if maybe there weren’t metal bars hidden somewhere underneath. Bars made from the same sort of metal that had been used to create the handcuffs.
Something that even Nate couldn’t bend.
The extra measure of an obsidian coating would make sense, actually, if someone were trying to prevent a telepath from zeroing in on the cell’s occupants. Certain kinds of minerals and gemstones created a natural cloud of interference that could shield a person’s presence in high enough quantities.
But this sort of obsidian lined cell wasn’t like anything he’d seen before.
The Agency was getting smarter.
God help them all.
Aaron was pacing the length of the cell, and Nate sat silent for a long while, watching him with curiosity.
Nate knew what he’d done to wind up in here, but what could have prompted the Director to go against Grayson’s threats to “leave Aaron Gale be, or else”?