Revival (The Variant Series, Book 1)

by Leigh, Jena

  Silence.

  “Mr. Oz?” she asked again.

  The intercom buzzed and a lock in the door released. Declan pushed the varnished door open and led the way inside.

  The front entryway stood bare, bereft of any furnishing, and a staircase disappeared into the darkness at the end of the foyer. Rooms branched off on either side of the long hall. Declan chose one on the left. Alex followed.

  Like the entryway, the room was empty, save for a large bank of monitors set against the far wall. Declan came to a stop in front of the display and commenced to wait.

  “I don’t get it,” said Alex. “Where is he?”

  “Patience, young Jedi.” Declan crossed his arms and stared at the array of monitors. “He doesn’t actually live here. This is just someplace people can visit when they want to reach him. Ozzie’s a man who values his privacy. Oh, and I should probably warn you, he’s a little… neurotic. Helpful. But neurotic.”

  One of the monitors lit up, displaying the grainy image of a bald man in his mid-thirties, wearing square-rimmed glasses and a bow-tie. He looked a little like the rock star, Moby.

  Well… Moby, if Moby woke up one morning and decided that being a rock legend wasn’t quite cutting it, and decided to change professions to become an accountant. The man looked as though he were fully prepared to either DJ at an LA club filled with Mathletes… or file someone’s taxes. Alex wasn’t quite sure which. Nor, for that matter, was she entirely sure what to make of him.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, halfwit,” said Ozzie. “As a wise man once said, ‘Everything great in the world comes from neurotics.’”

  Alex recognized the quote.

  “‘They alone have founded our religions and composed our masterpieces,’” she finished.

  “I—What?” Declan asked, looking back and forth between them in confusion. “What are you two talking about?”

  “It’s Proust, you ignoramus,” said the man in the box, first rolling his eyes dramatically and then flashing a wide, gap-toothed smile. “I like this one, Declan. She reads!”

  Technically, she’d read it in a coffee-table book of quotes that Cassie had given her Aunt Cil as a Christmas gift two years earlier.

  Of course, she wasn’t about to admit that now.

  “Much better than that last floozy you brought with you. Fairly certain that poor girl was destined either for a short-lived foray into the arena of adult entertainment, or for a scintillating career in the fast food industry. Possibly both.”

  Alex leaned toward Declan and said in a quiet voice, “Floozy?”

  “It was for a case,” he said, defensive. “Chrissy was a client. I was helping her find her brother.”

  Chrissy?

  Ozzie harrumphed. “Some things that are lost are better left that way,” he said cryptically. “Chrissy’s brother being a prime example.”

  “Focus, Oz,” said Declan. “We need your help.”

  “Yes, I suppose you do,” said Ozzie with a sigh. A second monitor lit up, displaying a four-way split-screen, offering out of focus, black and white video feeds from some sort of surveillance system. “This was taken last night.”

  Three figures were moving in and out of the frames, making their way through an office of some sort. Alex squinted at the monitor, struggling to make out more detail.

  The figures moved closer to one of the cameras and Alex raised an eyebrow. She’d recognized them.

  On the screen were Grayson, Carson Brandt and—

  “Hang on.” Alex stepped closer to the screen. “Is that my aunt?”

  “Where is this place, Oz?” asked Declan.

  “An abandoned underground facility in the mountains of western Virginia. Former headquarters of the Agency and home to Grayson’s original unit. They shut it down after the Masterson debacle twelve years ago.”

  “What were they doing there?” asked Alex.

  The four-way split was replaced by a single feed that stretched to fill the large screen, causing the image to blur. Three figures—who Alex assumed to be Grayson, Brandt and Cil—had entered a large room and were approaching a row of towering black objects, but the distortions in the image prevented her from making out any other details.

  “They were there to check in on an old friend,” said Oz. “Those black masses you see at the center of the frame? They’re cryogenic chambers.”

  “Masterson,” said Declan. “They must have gone to check on the unit. Make sure he’d really escaped.”

  Ozzie snorted. “Yeah? Well they screwed up.”

  “How so?”

  Ozzie didn’t have to answer, the video did it for him.

  They watched as a fourth figure materialized behind Cil and seized her, prompting Grayson to remove a human body from one of the chambers… And then they watched as Cil was shot in the leg by Grayson’s gun.

  “So that’s what happened to her leg,” said Alex.

  “Who’s the other man, Oz?” asked Declan.

  Ozzie selected a portion of the image—framing the mystery man—enlarged it, and ran some sort of clean-up application.

  The result was a fuzzy but identifiable image of a handsome man in his mid-twenties, with short dark hair and an aquiline nose.

  “Impossible,” said Declan. “Oz, how—”

  “No idea,” he said. “I don’t have a clue how he pulled it off, either.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Alex. “Who is he?”

  “That’s him, Lex,” said Declan. “You’re looking at an image of Samuel Masterson.”

  She studied the image, filing the blurry profile away in her memory. At least she’d know him if she ran into him on the street now. Provided he wasn’t wearing someone else’s face, that is.

  “Well I guess that explains how Masterson ended up with Grayson’s Ruger,” said Declan. “Alright. We can ask Grayson about all this later. After we get them back… Oz, we saw the three of them after this happened. What we need to know now is who took them from the cabin.”

  “Getting to that,” said Ozzie.

  Half a dozen screens lit up, a few flashing through digital dossiers of Declan’s family while the others offered security camera feeds showing different scenes from the last few days. Alex and Cassie on the boardwalk. Kenzie and Nate wandering through the parking garage looking for Grayson’s rental. Traffic camera feeds showing the same black BMW traveling through the streets of DC.

  “You’ve been pretty busy lately. And I think it’s safe to say that the Agency has taken a very keen interest in the Grayson family.”

  One of the screens flipped to a security feed showing two men dressed in plain clothes, kneeling beside a car in a parking garage. A small box sat opened in front of them, a flashing light inside. One of the men reached into the box and the feed cut out.

  The pulse.

  “So it was Agents that came after us in the parking garage,” said Declan.

  “Yep,” said Ozzie. “And I happen to have read a fascinating report about two Agents who pursued a 6 Series Beamer off the edge of an uncompleted bridge… A Beamer that then proceeded to vanish into thin air. No video on that, sadly. You’re quite the show off, Mr. O’Connell. I know jumpers much more experienced than you, who never could have managed such a feat.”

  “What does the Agency want with Grayson’s family?” asked Alex.

  “Oh, it’s not Grayson’s family they’re after, my shoeless minx,” said Ozzie.

  The screens went black. Two monitors lit up to replace them. On the first was a scrolling profile detailing the vital statistics of one Alexandra Catherine Parker. On the second, the scanned images of her Bay View High School ID card and her driver’s license stared back at her.

  “The person they want,” he continued. “Is you.”

  “Me?” Alex repeated dumbly. “What could they possibly want with me?”

  “Honestly? I haven’t the faintest,” said Ozzie. “They’ve got most of the files pertaining to you classified and encrypted at
a level even I haven’t been able to crack. And that’s saying something.”

  “They took the others to get to Alex,” Declan surmised. “They wanted to bait us into coming after them, so that they could get their hands on her.”

  “I think that’s part of it,” said Oz. “The directives pertaining to Alex are coming down from the top—and I mean the very top—and they’re all saying the same thing: approach with extreme caution and detain, but under no circumstances are they to harm her.”

  Well, at least their orders weren’t to exterminate her with extreme prejudice. That was something, right?

  “I guess that explains why the Agents in the parking garage were such lousy shots,” said Declan.

  Ozzie nodded. “And the good news is that they’re also under orders not to hurt your family. They’re detaining them, but they weren’t harmed when they brought them in.”

  Relief washed over her. Aunt Cil, Cassie and the others were okay. Beside her, Alex sensed Declan relax, his rigid posture loosening with a slow exhalation of breath.

  “Not all that surprising, if you think about it,” said Ozzie. “Can you imagine the political shitstorm they’d rain down on themselves if the Agency was ever implicated in bringing harm to John Grayson or his family? The man’s considered a saint in most Variant households. The Agency would lose what little credibility it has left.”

  “Something’s bugging me, Oz,” said Declan. “Why didn’t the Agency just raid the cabin while Alex was there? Surely that would have been one of their options.”

  “That’s the thing,” said Ozzie. “They’re dying to get their hands on her, but for whatever reason, they’re also terrified of her. Taking your family was probably their round-about way of drawing her to them, while still maintaining some sort of leverage over her.”

  The idea that a shadowy government organization was scared of a 16-year-old seemed laughable to Alex.

  But it also meant that, somehow, they must know about her ability. And they seemed to believe that she could be as powerful as Masterson.

  Someone should have told them not to worry.

  Even if she could amass his supposedly endless array of powers, she wouldn’t be able to hang on to them for long.

  Alex tried to focus on her jumping ability. Now that she knew what to look for, she could tell that the powers she’d borrowed from Declan were, very slowly, starting to fade. At this rate, she had maybe six hours before she couldn’t sense the currents at all and would once again lose her ability to jump.

  “So where are they keeping them, Oz?” asked Declan.

  “They’re in a military facility near Saranac Lake,” said Ozzie. “Closest thing to the cabin they could find. They must not have wanted to take them far.”

  “I didn’t know there were any military sites in Saranac Lake,” said Declan.

  “And that’s the way the government would like to keep it, I’m sure.” He smiled.

  An aerial image of a large metal roofed building surrounded by forested land appeared on the screen.

  “Thought you might want to see it,” said Ozzie.

  “Thanks, Ozzie,” said Declan, taking Alex by the arm. “I owe you one.”

  “Nah,” said Ozzie, smiling. “Just go and give the Agency what-for, and we’ll call it even.”

  — 24 —

  Alex and Declan reappeared in Alex’s empty bedroom.

  “The cabin?” said Alex, looking around. “What are we doing back here?”

  “Had to risk it,” said Declan. “There’s a couple of things I wanted to pick up before we left. Besides. You kept complaining about your stupid feet. Thought if I brought you back here to grab a pair of shoes, you might actually be able to focus when we go after Grayson and the others.”

  “Really?” she said, surprised.

  “Well, that. And I thought it might make you a little easier to put up with.”

  She rolled her eyes. “What I meant, was are you really taking me with you?”

  “Could I actually stop you at this point?”

  “Not a chance,” she said, smiling. “But it’s nice to see you finally owning up to it.”

  Declan left the room, promising to return in a few minutes once he’d found what he was looking for.

  Alex seized the opportunity to change into something other than her pajamas. She settled on a pair of jeans and a lightweight, long-sleeved tee. She was working her feet into her trusty Chuck Taylor’s when Declan materialized in the doorway with a gun in each hand.

  She gave him a skeptical once-over as she tied her shoelaces. “Easy there, Rambo. You know, when you said you wanted to pick up a couple of things, I didn’t realize that that was what you had in mind.”

  He deposited the Beretta in the pocket of his hoodie and then held up the Ruger.

  “Ever used a gun before?” he asked.

  “My Aunt’s a card-carrying member of PETA and—up until this week, anyway—I haven’t been in too many situations requiring the use of heavy artillery.” She stared at the gun. “Unless you count paintball. But I wouldn’t, because I lasted about two minutes and the only thing I managed to take out was a tree.”

  “Right,” he said, offering her the gun. “I should probably give you some pointers, then.”

  It was heavy. Far heavier than she had expected.

  They always made them look so light on TV.

  After receiving a quick run-down on what-not-to-do with the gun, a lesson on how to remove the safety, and a few tips on firing and how to hold the pistol—and after promising Declan repeatedly that she would only use it if she had no other option—Alex tucked the Ruger into the back of her jeans, and then slipped Declan’s jacket back on in an attempt to conceal it.

  He stood slouched against a bedpost, watching her as she rolled up the too-long sleeves of her borrowed coat.

  The chill of the metal was seeping through the flimsy material that covered the small of her back.

  Alex took a few steps to make sure the gun was secure and wouldn’t be falling out by accident. The weight of it resting against her back was heavy and awkward, and altogether alien. But she had to admit, she definitely felt a little safer for having it there.

  When she could get past the growing fear that the gun might accidentally fire while still in her pants, that is. She’d seen it a thousand times in the movies. Some dummy with no experience with firearms shoves the gun into the front of their jeans and bang! No more pinky toe… Or worse.

  And she was rather attached to her left butt-cheek. She’d rather not part with any of it.

  “You look nervous,” said Declan. “Maybe giving you a gun isn’t such a good idea.”

  “Are you kidding?” she said. “It’s a terrible idea. But I’m fine. Honest.”

  “Just, please,” he said. “Remember what I’ve told you. And don’t take off that safety until you’re ready to use it.”

  Alex created a small sphere of electricity in her hand, just to test her strength, and then dispersed it. “Hopefully I won’t need to use it—I think I’ve still got a few hours before I’ll lose my jumping ability. Besides. I have a much more powerful weapon at my disposal.”

  “The spheres?”

  “My brain.”

  “Oh,” he said, cracking a smile. “I’ll be sure to add that to our list of assets for next time.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Always.”

  “You should be more careful what you say to me, Decks. I am armed, you know. And it’s never wise to piss off a girl capable of first electrocuting you, and then shooting you, and then dropping you in a lake. It’s only asking for trouble.”

  “Yeah, well,” he said. “I trust you not to kill, maim, or drown me without just provocation. Now c’mere.”

  “Why?”

  “We need to do one last thing before we go.”

  “Oh?” said Alex, taking a step closer. “What’s that?”

  Declan reached out, took both of her hands in his, and drew her toward h
im. The current flowing between them grew stronger.

  “Figured you could use the pick-me-up,” he said softly, a roguish grin on his face.

  The long list of reasons Alex had conjured to ensure that she stayed away from the caustic, self-assured and insufferable blonde that now held her captive by his gaze, had been utterly forgotten. All the arguments she’d had with herself over the course of the last three days had faded to nothing under the weight of those hazel eyes.

  The lamp on the bedside table flickered.

  Declan’s gaze slid down to focus on her mouth and Alex’s heart started beating double-time.

  She took another step closer… Just as the sound of a creaking floorboard reached them from the hallway.

  Declan’s attention shifted to the open bedroom door—and they jumped.

  They landed in a wooded area in the dark of night.

  He dropped her hands.

  Whatever moment they’d been heading toward back at the cabin, they’d left behind them when they jumped. Declan glanced around, finally fixing his attention on a glaring white light that was shining from the other side of a nearby hill. He started toward it.

  Alex followed, tripping clumsily over fallen branches and pitfalls in the darkened forest.

  “Saranac Lake,” said Declan, over his shoulder.

  “What?”

  “It’s where we jumped to. I figured you were about to ask where we were,” he said. “You usually do.”

  She didn’t say anything, just kept following him through the black.

  When they reached the crest of the hill he pulled her down beside him. They knelt there in the underbrush, taking in the scene below.

  The compound was surrounded on all sides by a ten-foot-high fence topped with razor wire, with only a small yard standing between the fence and the metal-sided building. A single watchtower loomed by the front gate. From this height and vantage point, Declan and Alex could see down into the darkened tower. A single guard sat in the enclosure, his feet propped up in a square cutout window, watching something on a mini-television.

  In the yard below, a second guard appeared to be walking in a perpetual circle that took him through the yard and around the exterior of the metal building.