He hunched his shoulders, letting the rain soak through his shirt. “Shoot.”
It was either a trap, or I’d gained some leverage somehow. “Okay, so, you guys aren’t just jerking my chain about this bloodline thing, right? I mean, you’re pretty quick on your feet and he’s left some bruises, but is he, like, rip-through-a-telephone-book strong?”
“Rena, he could rip through a telephone pole without realizing it. We’re not just”—he made quotations in the air—“‘jerking your chain.’”
As soon as the words left his lips, I understood. Wallace had snapped my handcuffs apart as if they were a toy. There was no disputing it.
A heart wrenching cry sounded from the alley and before I knew it, my legs were moving of their own accord. I jogged to the corner, without regard to Cole or anything else, squinting into the darkness.
Wallace rocked back as he let out another growl and slammed his head onto the pavement. “Grrrraaaah!” He reeled back, clutching at his left eye with one hand and holding onto the base of his skull with the other.
Even after a night’s worth of horrors, it was the worst thing I’d witnessed. He was a man possessed by pain. Gruesome, tortured pain. And there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.
“Every night,” Cole commented behind me, not bothering to pull me away.
“If he’s so strong, how is anything standing when he’s like this?” I asked. It was a horrible thing to ponder at the time, but I couldn’t help it.
“Wallace is significantly weakened during these episodes.” His voice was tight as he leaned against the building. “He’s usually out of commission for a while.”
“I’m surprised you don’t take advantage,” I quipped humorlessly. “You know, strong-arm him while he’s down.”
My hood had fallen back in our near-scuffle, and I hadn’t bothered to fix it. Trails of rainwater slid down my face and dripped from my chin. I could barely feel it.
“I’m a lot of things, Rena, but I’m not cruel.”
I shifted my gaze to his. “You cut me.” Was he crazy? “You pretended to be nice and drugged me with a needle. I woke up in a freakin’ warehouse! Are you serious? You used me against him.”
Okay, he’d hit a nerve.
He sighed and crossed his arms. “Would you have cooperated otherwise? You were the incentive.” His eyes were alight in the darkness, half-mast with subdued interest. “It’s not like I really hurt you, right?”
Aside from mental scarring that would probably take years of therapy to resolve? No, I guess not. “So, am I to understand that if I don’t keep this secret, you’ll kill me?”
“No.”
A zephyr of hope whirled inside me, stirring a second wind to run on.
“If you tell,” he continued, “I’ll have to kill both of you.”
“What?” I shrieked, wiping the rain from my lashes. “You’d kill your own brother because of me?”
“He accepted responsibility when he told you about us.” He paused as if that made perfect sense. “Look, just think about it this way. If you let our secret slip, it’ll become a problem bigger than just the three of us. You’d be endangering everyone in my family that carries the bloodline. Who even knows how many that is? The government and media would intervene, chasing us down like lab rats. Sure, I’d get away easily enough, but Wallace? Not without going against his precious sainthood. I’d be doing him a favor.”
I swayed uneasily on my feet, running through scenarios that made a disturbing amount of sense. “B-But…”
“That’s assuming anyone believed you,” he said. “Best case scenario, they lock you up for medical evaluation.”
I shook my head, spraying the air with rogue droplets. “No, just…forget I asked.”
His lips twisted into a smirk. “Sure.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Half an hour later, Cole and I were locked in a shivering stalemate. Neither of us seemed to trust the other enough to walk away, so we waited together. Or at least, beside each other.
The rain drowned out Wallace’s groans, but his screams were still fresh in my mind. Over and over, he’d slammed his head against the bricks, tortured and delirious with pain. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d gone through—what he goes through every night.
I took a shaky step forward and paused, braced for Cole’s interception. When nothing happened, I glanced over my shoulder.
“Go ahead,” he muttered, jerking his chin toward the alley. “It’s over now.”
That was all the permission I needed. I sprinted headlong into the darkness, splashing through puddles until my legs gave out and I fell to my knees. “Wallace…” The icy water soaked into my jeans as I knelt before him, panting in the bitter air. “Hey, are you—”
“T-Told you…to go.” His sharp words were muffled as he ground his face against the slick, broken pavement, heaving his shoulders. “Go!”
“No!” The refusal was a reflex, a childish sob that caught in my throat. I lowered my voice and tried to sound calm. “Do you need anything?”
He looked up, eyes radiating a startling blue as he pushed himself into a sitting position. Slow breaths worked through his chest as he studied me, rubbing at his eye. “No.” His brows drew together, and he wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve. “Thanks.”
Something tightened around my arm in response, like a phantom blood pressure cuff that’d been placed too high. Shit. Was twenty one too young to have a heart attack?
Before I could consider it, frustration poured to the forefront of my mind. Gratitude followed right after, warring with humiliation. I wanted refuge. I wanted peace. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Wait.
My eyes grew wide as I watched him, recognizing the familiar, but foreign surge of emotion. “Can you project your feelings at someone?”
“No,” he replied in a flat, lifeless voice as he tried to catch his breath. Resignation weighted his posture as he sat there, no longer adamant about pushing me away.
And just like that, the pressure stopped.
Well, there went that idea. “Do you want me to drive you back?”
“No, I’m fine.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, and I caught a glimpse of something dark twisting down around his eye. “Give me a minute.”
“Take as long as you need,” I said, fighting the urge to pull him into a hug. The situation was uncomfortable enough, without my ovaries kicking in.
A few minutes passed before he pushed himself to his feet with a heavy sigh. “Let’s just go.”
A bone-chilling gust swept past as I got up. If his sweatshirt were anything more than a wet blanket at this point, I would’ve given it back. It wasn’t, so I pulled it close.
“Cole,” he called, walking toward the sidewalk. “We’ll finish this elsewhere.” He cast a quick glance in my direction and added, “Somewhere warm.”
Cole pushed off of the wall and nodded. “Let’s just go home. It’s close enough, and you can’t take her back like that, anyway.”
He gestured toward me, and I felt my lip protrude in offense.
Sure, my neck was bandaged, my wrists were cut, and I was probably going to die of hypothermia, but that didn’t mean I was a complete wreck. AssCole.
“Fine.” Wallace reached into his sweatshirt pocket without looking, his fingers brushing my pelvic bone as he fished the keys out. “We’ll follow you.”
“Hey, I’m not a hostage anymore.” I frowned. “Don’t I get a say in this?”
“No,” both men answered in unison.
Twins.
Thankfully, the trip wasn’t long, and I got to ride with Wallace. Within fifteen minutes, we were home—wherever home was.
“Wait. What about my car?” I asked as we got out in front of a cozy, white one-story.
Cole had already caught up with us, despite having parked a ways down the street. “I’ll take care of it.”
“What does that mean?” I lifted my brows. “We can’
t just leave it there.”
He rolled his eyes and pulled a phone out of his pocket. The same one he’d used to taunt his brother hours before. “I’ll have him bring it over in the morning. No big deal.”
“In the morning?” I repeated, my voice lifting into a shrill whisper. “You mean we have to stay here?” Wallace had said on the way over that we were stopping at his grandma’s to discuss things, but he never said anything about spending the night.
“What happened to your car?” Wallace cut in, eyeing me as we walked up the porch steps.
“Tire blew out. Your brother came to change it, and then he led me to his friend’s garage—you know, the scene of the crime.” I glanced back at Cole, who had lagged behind to make a call. “Now I have to buy a new tire.”
The porch light flicked on.
“I said I’ll take care of it,” Cole snapped and shook his head, pressing the phone to one ear. “I’ll get the tire.”
“Oh.” That was oddly generous, given his track record for the night. “Thanks.”
He nodded and looked down, plugging his other ear. “Hey, Jeremy. Can you bring that Sentra over to Grandma’s in the morning?” He blinked a few times and waited. “Yeah, I’ll get you the money Tuesday night at poker.” There was a pause as he listened. “Okay. Later.”
I watched him tuck the phone away. “How does he know where your grandmother lives?”
“He lives down the street,” he explained. “The three of us went to school together.”
“Oh.”
The door creaked open before anyone could knock, and an elderly woman pushed the screen open. “Boys! I thought I heard someone out here.”
Oh shit. I hadn’t prepared for this part. Meeting a friend’s grandmother was awkward enough, without showing up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. I ducked my head down, pretending to study the green outdoor carpet.
“And who’s this pretty girl?” she asked. “Does someone have something to tell me?”
Wallace caught the door, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. “She’s my friend, Grandma. I actually have a favor to ask you, if that’s all right.”
She squinted out at us, and her eyes widened. “Good heavens! You’re all soaking wet. Get in here before you catch a cold.” She disappeared, and a light flicked on behind her, casting a long rectangle onto the porch.
Cole gestured for me to go ahead while his brother held the door open. Great. Not only was I imposing on the old woman, now I had to make a mud puddle on her floor.
I stepped inside and moved over, making room. To my relief, the floors were hardwood, and the entryway was covered with a mat. I took my boots off, and then edged away from the wet spot.
The other two trudged in behind me and when the door slammed shut, the house shuddered. We stood in what I assumed to be the living room, beside a floral print couch that faced the television. The place smelled like roses and coffee and…a hint of Estee Lauder.
“Look at you kids,” she said, clicking her tongue. Though she had the telltale hunch of osteoporosis, she stood a few inches taller than me—and her fluffed white curls added another two on top of that. “We’re going to have to get those clothes in the dryer.”
I straightened. “Um…”
Wallace kicked his boots off and moved to present me. “Grandma, this is Rena Collins. Rena, this is Clara Blake.”
Clara’s weathered face pinched with wrinkles and laugh lines. “Why, hello there!”
“N-Nice to meet you.” I plastered on a smile and reached out my hand. Who on earth could threaten this woman’s life? She was practically a Golden Girl.
She latched on, closing her other hand around mine. “You too, dear. I tell you, they never bring friends around anymore. It gets pretty lonesome in this house all by myself, day after day.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she pulled her lips back even further. “Please, make yourself at home. I can lend you something while we get your clothes dry.”
“Oh, uh...” I looked up at Wallace for help, unsure of what to say.
“Actually, I was wondering if we could stay,” he began, rubbing at the back of his neck. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”
“Well, honey, I already figured you would. Why don’t you boys run along and change now?” She marched toward the hallway, beckoning me over her shoulder. “Just follow Grandma Clara, Rena. We’ll get you all set up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I cast a panicked look over my shoulder as I scampered to catch up with her. The night kept getting weirder and weirder.
And I had a feeling it was far from over.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“It does look lovely on you!” Clara clasped her hands together as I emerged from the bathroom.
The flowing white nightgown brushed my hips as I padded across the carpet. She’d said the thing had been tucked away for forty years, and I believed her. Between the dated neckline and the soft lace trim, I felt like I’d stepped straight out of the silver screen. Or at least, Goodwill. “Thanks.”
“Don’t think a thing of it,” she said, easing herself down onto the edge of the bed. “Do you feel better?”
I did. I’d showered and changed my neck dressing before slipping into the nightgown. She’d had everything laid out for me, like a perfect hostess. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Enough with the ma’am business.” She chortled, waving me off. “Call me Clara or Grandma.”
I nodded, running my palms down the front of the smooth material. What was I supposed to do now? Was she waiting for me to explain what’d happened earlier? I didn’t know where to begin.
“I spoke with Wallace while you were in the shower,” she said. “There’s no need to feel nervous.”
I froze. She knew about the threat, and she was still this calm? “I’m not nerv—”
Clara tapped her head with a knowing smile.
“Oh.” I dropped my shoulders, the moment sweeping past on an exhale. Was I that transparent?
She lifted her brows, still waiting for something.
“What?”
Another second passed before it finally hit me. The gesture had referred to more than just women’s intuition. She was one of them.
“Oh,” I repeated, taking a step back. “So, you’re…I didn’t know which side he got his…” Way to represent human intelligence, genius.
“Yes, I am a Dynari. Has my grandson told you of my abilities?”
I shook my head, too flustered to speak.
Her eyes creased in a thoughtful expression, and she patted the spot beside her. “Like Wallace, I am an empath, but my ability is more—shall we say—mature. I feel the present emotions of others, but I also sense the emotions they leave behind. That is my major gift.”
The room swayed, and I sank down onto the bed. “Are there minor gifts?”
“Perceptive of you. Yes, there are minor, complementary gifts that accompany the major.”
“I see,” I said, trying to remain calm. Next thing, she’d probably tell me she was telepathic or something. I flashed my eyes in her direction, swallowing. You can’t hear me, can you?
“I can’t read your mind, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “I can only sense you’re upset, and understandably so. You must feel as if your whole world has been turned upside down tonight.”
She didn’t know how right she was.
“Would you rather talk about something else?” She put a comforting hand on my shoulder, reminding me of my own grandmother—sans the penchant for bingo and wine coolers.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’m already in this far. I want to understand it.”
“Very well.” She leaned back, bracing herself on her hands. “First, I should mention it’s my theory that, in our family, traces of ability reoccur in every other generation. Sometimes it manifests as a minor gift, sometimes it’s just a natural propensity, but it’s always there in some amount.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Well, look at the b
oys. Wallace possesses a portion of my ability; he can sense the emotions of others. Nicholas, on the other hand, mirrors the rapid healing ability of my late sister, Faye.”
“O-Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your sister,” I stammered, lowering my voice. “I didn’t know.”
She met my gaze with unwavering understanding. “You couldn’t have known, Rena. It was nearly forty-seven years ago.” A sigh escaped her thin lips, and she glanced across the room. “She was working overseas on a humanitarian mission and…found herself in the crossfire of civil unrest. Things were different back then. We weren’t informed until after she’d already been buried.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, unsure of what else to say. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and I didn’t want to provoke them to fall. “That’s terrible.”
After a moment, she patted my leg. “Having gifts doesn’t make you immortal. Even with her healing ability, it must’ve been too much for her to bear. Freddie was just…” She shook her head. “No. It won’t do us any good to pore over ancient memories. Do you have any questions for me?”
I thought about it for a moment, recalling what happened in the alley. “Have you ever known Wallace to project his feelings?”
She blinked as she considered the notion. “What do you mean? Did you sense him?”
Okay, now I felt stupid. “No. Well, I thought I did, but I probably just imagined it. You know, since I was trying to deal with all of the information and…” I ran a hand back through my hair, thankful I’d taken the time to dry it thoroughly. “Never mind.”
“You know, I’ve never seen him so protective of another being,” she mused, her placid expression unnerving. “And to think, he said you two have only been acquainted for a few weeks. Perhaps you’re kindred spirits.”
A burst of nervous laughter escaped my lips. “I don’t know about that, Clara.”
“Who are we to question the workings of fate?” she asked, her lips curving upward.
I couldn’t help but smile back. The woman was relentless. “Maybe you’re right.”
Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) Page 17