Two times per day, two black-clad men accompanied another man or woman wearing a lab coat and carrying a clipboard. The lab coats peered into the room, pressed buttons on the panel next to the door, took notes, and moved away.
Five times per day Charlie tried to get answers from his regular visitors. As soon as he heard movement, he sprang off his thin mattress and rushed forward to the long, thin pane of glass set into the heavy door.
Charlie pleaded and asked questions, yelled and demanded answers. He had tried every way of speaking to them. He was always ignored.
He’d been in his white prison for three full days. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious before that. A few days at least, judging by the amount of Light coursing through him. His arms and legs were almost constantly itchy, and it was spreading to his torso. Wandering around the bare room nude was beginning to seem like a good idea.
The mechanical clank of the door unlocking startled him, and he sat up. It wasn’t time for food, and the last lab coat had come past only twenty-eight minutes and forty seconds ago.
For the first time since Charlie was dragged inside the cell half-conscious, the door opened. Charlie stood, unsure what to do. Should he dash forward, try to escape, or should he back away from the men with the large guns now entering the room?
At least the guns weren’t pointed at him—they were slung over the shoulders of the two men half carrying, half dragging another man into the room. The new prisoner was wearing the same shapeless gray pants and top that Charlie had woken up in.
The two men dumped the unconscious form onto the bed and left the room without even acknowledging Charlie’s presence. He rushed to the door and watched as the guards retreated down the empty hallway.
Moving back to the other bed, Charlie immediately started checking his new roommate. He knew just enough first aid to determine if the injuries were life threatening. After rolling the unconscious young man onto his back, Charlie checked his air passage and heartbeat. He was alive. With careful fingers, Charlie started checking for broken bones, moving the gray fabric out of the way to look for bruising. There weren’t any obvious injuries, but there was no way to check for internal bleeding.
Even though the young man didn’t look beaten or tortured, he hadn’t regained consciousness, and his light brown hair was a mess, his skin clammy.
What the hell did they do to you? Charlie thought, running his hands through his own hair in frustration.
The sound of voices drew his attention back to the door. He stood facing it, putting himself between whatever was on the other side and the unconscious man on the bed.
“ . . . shouldn’t even be here!” a woman’s voice carried clearly. “If I’m seen anywhere near this—”
“Why did you come then?” a deep man’s voice interrupted her, sounding completely unfazed.
“Because you weren’t taking my calls!” she yelled, frustration building in her voice by the second. “It’s been over a week since that mess at Bradford Hills. I didn’t agree to that many casualties. I certainly didn’t agree to the Vital kidnappings.”
A week? His family would be worried sick. Dot would be beside herself. At the thought of his sister, his Variant, Charlie’s chest ached. It wasn’t the consuming pain that came when she overused her ability and he needed to get to her. It was a longing—a need to be home.
He had no way of knowing if she was OK. All he remembered was trying to get to one of the residence hall buildings that was under construction, close to where they’d separated from Gabe, Ethan, and Eve. It would have been empty, a good place to hide. But halfway there, Dot crumpled to the ground next to him, her hand slipping out of his. Charlie had turned just in time to see the butt of a rifle coming at his face.
He knew now he’d spent the next few days unconscious and been moved to wherever this hellhole was. But he had no way of knowing what had happened to Dot. He was trying not to think about it.
He forced himself to focus on the voices in the corridor. He was getting more information from this one overheard conversation than he had from all the pleading with his impassive guards.
“Come now, Christine, you didn’t think I would expend those kinds of resources without getting something out of it?” The man chuckled darkly. There was something familiar about his voice.
Charlie inched closer to the door, trying to catch a glimpse of the man’s face, but it was the woman he recognized first. She came to a stop right in front of his cell, turning to face her companion.
“You’re fucking deranged. What the hell even is this place?” Senator Christine Anderson screeched. She threw her arms up, looking around. The last time Charlie had seen her was the night of the gala as she’d stood on the stage and delivered her speech, waxing eloquent about her personal and professional mission to solidify peace and cooperation between Variants and humans, then announcing her intention to run for president.
“You want the presidency?” The man no longer sounded amused. “Well, nothing motivates voters like fear. Correct me if I’m wrong, but your poll numbers skyrocketed the day after the Bradford Hills invasion and have remained high. The fact that I used the opportunity to collect some assets for my interests is of no consequence. You will have the oval office, and I will have your cooperation as the leader of the free world when you do. Everything else is semantics. Now, calm down.”
“Assets. You say it like you signed a contract for delivery of stock, not like you kidnapped nearly thirty Vitals in one day.” Her voice had lowered, but she wasn’t backing down. “Davis, you took Bradford Hills staff; children of prominent, influential Variants; a fucking chart-topping singer! People are going to take notice.”
“They were already starting to. I need the Vitals. It’s done now.”
Davis. Just as the familiar voice and the name clicked into place in Charlie’s mind, the man stepped forward, giving him a clear view of the dark hair, peppered with gray at the temples, and the broad shoulders draped in a three-thousand-dollar suit.
Davis Damari. Why was Uncle Lucian’s business partner doing this?
Charlie had met the man on several occasions, usually at glitzy Variant events, a few times when Davis had been invited to dinner by Charlie’s dad or Uncle Lucian. Surely Uncle Lucian didn’t know anything about this?
Of course, Melior Group knew how to skirt the lines of legality—Charlie had no illusions about that, having done some slightly shady hacking work for them in the past. But this . . .
“What do you need the Vitals for? Stop evading my questions.” There was more steel in Christine’s voice now.
“Once I succeed, no one will even bat an eye at the methods. What’s a couple of abductions and a handful of deaths when at the end of it, the world will be changed? I’m going to fix what science doesn’t even understand yet. I’m going to show the world that Variants are meant to rule the world.”
Charlie gasped and took an involuntary step back, the realization hitting him hard.
He was behind it all. Davis Damari was the one who had been orchestrating the kidnappings of Vitals for over a year. He was the one who’d been stirring up tensions between Variants and humans. He was the leader, maybe even the creator, of Variant Valor.
Charlie’s movement caught the pair’s attention, and they both turned to look. The senator averted her gaze immediately, recognition and then shame crossing her features.
Davis Damari didn’t look at Charlie’s face, to try to recognize the person in his clutches. He saw only an asset. His head cocked to the side slightly as his calculating eyes watched Charlie’s twitchy movements. Charlie had been so focused on the conversation he hadn’t even realized he was scratching vigorously. One hand was under the ugly gray top, the other trying to get at a spot on his hip.
Davis gestured to someone down the hall, and heavy booted footsteps approached. “This one’s ready. Take him up and prep him.”
As the sounds of the digital panel and the heavy lock sliding back filled th
e room once again, Davis turned away. “Come, Senator. We can talk in my office.”
Davis Damari continued down the corridor, and Senator Christine Anderson followed him silently, her eyes still averted.
Two guards entered Charlie’s room, and all thoughts about what he’d just heard fled his mind. Now, there was only fear.
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, to my husband - ‘thank you’ doesn’t even begin to cover the depth of gratitude I feel for your unwavering support. Through the doubts, the struggles, the exhaustion, the elation and everything in between, you were there every step of the way, doing all you could to help and more. I won’t say that I couldn’t have written it without you – that was all me – but I certainly couldn’t have gotten it edited, published, marketed and out there for everyone else to read if it wasn’t for your encouragement and faith in me.
To my friends who read the early versions and had nothing but encouraging things to say, thank you for always having my back. Especially Dina – you were the first one to ever read it. It was a mess in draft two and you still loved it! That was more motivating than you’ll ever know.
Thank you to Writers Unite – my writers group crew. Your honest, discerning, invaluable feedback shaped this book into what it is. And your support and encouragement always gave me an extra push to keep going. Please don’t ever stop brutally tearing my work to pieces!
Thank you to my beta readers – the first group of people outside my close friends to read this book. I was so nervous to take this step but each and every one of you had so many positive things to say even as you pointed out all the errors and inconsistencies. Your feedback helped me finesse and polish the story and I am grateful to each of you for taking the time to provide it.
I am incredibly grateful to have found the RH community in general. I’ve never come across a more engaged, enthusiastic, supportive bunch of readers. When I needed beta readers, you put your hands up. When I asked for ARC readers, you responded with overwhelming enthusiasm. Whenever I reached out to a new person, reader or author, I was met with nothing but positivity and support. I’ve made some genuine friends through this process and I’m so glad I’ve connected with you all.
Finally, to my fur baby – Daisy. Thank you for refusing to change our strict daily walkie schedule. It got me off the computer, out of the house, and into fresh air, reminding me there was a whole world out there past my keyboard! I can’t wait to twist more of that world into stories.
Note from the author
Thank you so much for reading my book! It blows my mind that people are interested in reading what I wrote. I really hope you enjoyed Variant Lost and you’ll consider leaving a review. And if you didn’t like it, that’s OK too – I’m always open to feedback.
You can email me any time at [email protected]
And you can come hang out with me and other readers in my Facebook group – The Snow Lodge
About the Author
Kaydence Snow has lived all over the world but ended up settled in Melbourne, Australia. She lives near the beach with her husband and a beagle that has about as much attitude as her human.
She draws inspiration from her own overthinking, sometimes frightening imagination, and everything that makes life interesting – complicated relationships, unexpected twists, new experiences and good food and coffee. Life is not worth living without good food and coffee!
She believes sarcasm is the highest form of wit and has the vocabulary of a highly educated, well-read sailor. When she’s not writing, thinking about writing, planning when she can write next, or reading other people’s writing, she loves to travel and learn new things.
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By Kaydence Snow
Variant Lost: The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy - Part One
Vital Found: The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy - Part Two (Early 2019)
Vivid Avowed: The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy - Part Three (Mid 2019)
Variant Lost (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 1) Page 34