The Brightest Night

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Not to mention I really didn’t want to see what was going on in there.

  The strange tickling sensation danced its way over the nape of my neck, and this time, I didn’t do the is-there-a-bug-on-me dance. I waited to see if a Luxen showed up or if a giant spider crawled across—

  I jerked my head toward the side door as an exhausted scream shattered the calm, ending in a weary groan. I grimaced, lifting the quilt to my chin. I really, really needed to find out if Origins and non-Origins could make babies, because there was nothing about any of what was going on inside that house that I wanted a part of. Ever.

  “You look officially traumatized.”

  Gasping, I spun my head around. Grayson stood just inside the canopy, the string lights casting a warm glow over his form, and yet, he still reminded me of one of those carvings done in ice. Wariness trickled through me. After today, I was confident he was fantasizing about turning me into an episode of Forensic Files in which I was murdered and my body fed to hogs.

  He arched an eyebrow that was only a shade or two darker than the swept-back blond hair. “I scared you.”

  “No.” I still held the quilt to my chin. “You didn’t.”

  “Is that so?” Grayson smirked, and boy, he could deliver some of the most impressive smirks I’d ever seen. He glanced over my shoulder to the closed door, and then his glacial-blue eyes settled on me. “You do look traumatized.”

  Slowly lowering the quilt, I mulled over how to answer that question. Grayson and I had probably only had one almost noncombative conversation since I had known him, and while he might’ve said that the dotted effect my skin took on earlier was beautiful, he also could’ve been suffering from extreme brain trauma at that point. I had no idea what he’d been doing before he’d joined Luc and me. He could’ve been repeatedly banging his head against a wall for all I knew.

  “Listening to someone in labor is a little traumatizing,” I finally said.

  Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulled out a Blow Pop. One of his Luxen talents had to be conjuring an endless supply of those things. “Then I hope you and Luc are being careful.”

  My brows lifted.

  “Or you’ll find yourself screaming into the wee hours of the morning.” He leaned against the side of the carport, meticulously unwrapping the sucker. “Because it’s not entirely impossible for you two, so you and Luc had better be engaging in some Teflon-level protection.”

  For a long moment, all I could do was stare at him, and then finally I was able to formulate a coherent response. “I really do not want to talk you about what Luc and I do and how we do it—”

  He held up a hand as he said, “I don’t need details, but thanks.”

  “I wasn’t offering details,” I snapped, my fingers now digging into the edges of the quilt.

  “All I’m saying is that it’s not impossible. He’s an Origin and you are … well, you’re whatever you are, but I’m betting you have enough alien DNA in you to make it probable.” Sliding the discarded wrapper into his pocket, he raised the Blow Pop as if he were making a toast. “So, congrats.”

  I shook my head, dumbfounded. Luc and I hadn’t exactly discussed protection, even though we’d come close to actually doing it a time or two. And yes, we probably should’ve had that conversation long before it even got close to the actual act, but neither of us would go into having sex with just thoughts and prayers as our only protection. “Let me say it again: what Luc and I are doing or not doing isn’t any of your business. So, I’m going to pretend this conversation didn’t happen. Okay? Great.”

  Chuckling in a way I knew he was laughing at me, he popped the sucker into his mouth.

  And stared at me.

  Tiny hairs all over my body started to rise. The old me would’ve looked away and wondered how quickly I could get away from Grayson. I wasn’t her anymore. I met his stare. If we were going to have an epic stare down, I was in it to win it.

  “Do you need something?” I asked, my voice so sweet it dripped diabetes.

  Smiling around the stick of the Blow Pop, he crossed his arms over his chest. “Just waiting for an update.”

  “And you can’t wait somewhere else?” I asked.

  He lifted a shoulder. “Here seems like as good as any other place. If that’s okay with you?” He paused. “Nadia?”

  I had no reaction to him using my real name, not even a flinch, and my brain didn’t take a trip down missing memory lane. “There’s plenty of seating.” Easing my death grip on the quilt, I made a broad, sweeping gesture toward the other furniture. “Help yourself.”

  “I’m fine standing. Thanks.” A muscle ticked along his jaw.

  Knowing he was annoyed I didn’t rise to his bait, I smiled. I might’ve even batted my eyelashes.

  “The couch is so much more comfortable,” I pressed, refusing to look away. “I imagine the chair is, too. Better than standing and holding up the carport.”

  “Better stay where I am,” he replied. “Wouldn’t want it to collapse on your head.”

  “Let’s be honest here.” I leaned back, kicking my legs up on the cushion next to me. “You’d love to see it fall on my head.”

  His head tilted slightly, the stick moving in a slow circle. “You have no idea what I’d love.”

  His vague comments almost always came off sounding either like a thinly veiled threat or something someone who was seeking attention would post on Facebook. They’d normally leave me sputtering, but I was too tired and worried about Kat to pay it any mind. “You’re right. I wouldn’t.”

  “There isn’t much you do know, is there?” he challenged. “No memory of who you really are. No idea of what you’ve become. You hadn’t even tried to use the Source until today, and you don’t have a single clue on how to prevent yourself from going apeshit and—”

  “Killing a bunch of innocent people? True story,” I cut him off. “I’m sure there’s a lot more I don’t know. We can write them down if you have a piece of paper and pen? Make a list, and then when I figure things out, we can check them off.”

  The white stick stopped moving as his lips thinned.

  “Together,” I added.

  Grayson broke eye contact then, his jaw clenching so hard I was surprised the stick didn’t snap in two.

  Snark point explosion to Evie!

  I wanted to jump off the couch, run around the yard, and shout my triumph. Ha! I won. I actually won the stare down, and he could go kiss my—

  “This has been going on too long,” he stated, bringing my gloat fest to a sharp standstill.

  “What has?” I was half-afraid to ask.

  “The labor.” His gaze flicked to the door behind me. “That’s an Origin in there trying to be born. Usually, the labor is fast and hard.” His eyes were more like midnight pools as his gaze returned to mine. “And before you ask, no, I’m not an expert, but I know enough and definitely more than you.”

  The last part didn’t irritate me whatsoever, and it had nothing to do with me being tired and hungry. God, I was hungry again. “You think something bad is happening.”

  “I think there is a damn good reason why Luc has been in there this whole time.” His attention drifted back to the closed door. “Many don’t survive the birth of an Origin.”

  Anxiety flooded me. “But Kat’s a hybrid, and Daemon can heal—”

  “Sometimes those two things are simply not enough.”

  I started to argue that they had to be enough, but …

  Oh God.

  Just like sometimes all the medical advancement in the world wasn’t enough.

  Curling an arm across my stomach, I glanced back at the door. That’s when it occurred to me. My head snapped back to Grayson. “If Kat dies…”

  “So would Daemon,” he confirmed what I didn’t want to even think. “Their life forces are irrevocably tied. One dies, so does the other. If the child survives, it would be an orphan.”

  I opened my mouth, but I had no idea what to say, a
nd then, as a knot of emotion swelled in my throat, I realized there was nothing I could say. There were no words for situations like these. I sank into the couch, my gaze dropping to my hands. “Is that what happened to Luc’s parents?” I asked, thinking that perhaps Grayson knew. Luc had told me that he was pretty sure his parents were both dead, but that was before I knew I was Nadia, and at that point, he was only telling me half-truths.

  “Possible,” Grayson answered after several long heartbeats. “Either that or after the Daedalus got what they wanted, his parents were no longer of value.”

  “That’s horrible,” I whispered the obvious.

  “His parents may not have even known each other. They could’ve been nothing like Kat and Daemon,” he stated in such a matter-of-fact way my entire body jolted. “He could’ve been the product of a forced mutation and conception. Most Origins were.”

  “That doesn’t make it any less horrible.”

  “No.” He still stared at that door. “It makes it even more horrible.”

  Yes. Yes, it did.

  Over the next couple of minutes, I thought about how Luc had threatened both Daemon and Dawson more than once. “They were empty threats.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Luc threatening Daemon and Dawson,” I explained. “He said once he didn’t want to leave Beth a widow, but he knows how it works—”

  “How empty his threats are depend on how angry Luc was when he made said threat, but if I were you, I wouldn’t assume any of his threats are empty.”

  “He wouldn’t take out—”

  “Luc is capable of anything,” Grayson interrupted as my gaze lifted to his. “Perhaps that’s something else you’ve forgotten.”

  I didn’t care what Grayson insinuated; Luc was not capable of killing Daemon, knowing it would’ve ended both Kat and the baby’s life. Same for Dawson and Bethany.

  Silence descended between us as we were both succumbed to our own thoughts. My earlier mantra—Kat and the baby will be okay—no longer was repeated with confidence. Humans died every second, and just because Luxen and all those who carried their DNA fought death and often won, that didn’t make them immortal. As Grayson had said, sometimes it was simply not enough.

  And Luc’s parents? God, I didn’t even want to think about it. Had they loved each other? Had they even known each other’s names? Luc had to think about that, and if I was feeling it as hard as I was, I couldn’t even imagine—

  “I miss Kent.” Grayson said those three words so quietly I wasn’t even sure I actually heard them. “He would’ve said something so stupid right now. Something incredibly off the wall. It wouldn’t even make sense, but…”

  Sort of stunned by his soft admission, I watched his impressively stoic face, absent from the usual smirk or curl of distaste, crack just a little. It was a small fissure, barely noticeable, but I saw it. The break was in his eyes, in the brief moment when he closed them and his skin tightened. There. There was the touch of humanity I’d only witnessed twice before, when Kent had died and, bizarrely, when he’d discovered I was really Nadia.

  If Grayson were James or Zoe or a rabid kangaroo, I would’ve gotten up and hugged him. But he was Grayson, and if I did that, I had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate it, and I’d regret it.

  That didn’t mean I couldn’t sympathize from a safe distance.

  “He would’ve made you laugh. He would’ve made me laugh,” I finished, throat thick. “I know I didn’t know him long, but I miss him, too.”

  Jaw working, Grayson gave a curt nod. “Kent was the first human I met.”

  “You’ve known him since you were a child?”

  Luc had explained some of the Luxen who’d been here before the invasion lived in communities, kind of like neighborhoods, and rarely, if ever, associated with the outside, human world. The general public probably thought those “strange” communities were just run-of-the-mill cults or something.

  We had an amazing ability to find logical answers for the illogical.

  Wait.

  I couldn’t quite include myself in that whole we part of mankind now.

  Grayson’s gaze coasted back to mine, stare eerily intense. “I met Kent when I was sixteen.”

  Mentally repeating what he’d said, I put two and two together, adding in that look he was giving me, and ending up with holy evil Luxen, Grayson was one of the invading—

  Ghost fingers danced over the nape of my neck, the sensation startling me enough that I reached back and smacked my hand down on my skin. Nothing but flesh greeted me. I looked over my shoulder.

  The door opened, and all thoughts of what Grayson could’ve possibly admitted slipped aside. Daemon’s brother came out, and even though half of his face was in shadows, there was no mistaking the tension lining Dawson’s features.

  Every muscle in my body tightened, my lips and tongue unable to form the words I wanted to ask.

  Luckily—and God, I would never admit this—Grayson was there and had absolutely no filter whatsoever. “Are they still alive?”

  I shot Grayson a wide-eyed look.

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t that grateful for his lack of tact.

  Dawson must’ve been used to the other Luxen, because all he did was nod and say, “For now.”

  That wasn’t exactly the best of responses, but it wasn’t the worst.

  “Daemon is watching out for Kat, and Luc is there for the baby. I need to check on Ash. Zouhour is watching her,” he explained. I had no idea who that was. “She normally wakes up around this time wanting a glass of water and…”

  Wanting her daddy.

  He started past the carport and then stopped. “Beth’s labor wasn’t easy, either.” His voice was full of gravel, the kind that could hurt. “She’s in there with Kat. I think it’s helping, you know, seeing Beth? It’s a reminder that someone else went through the same as what she’s doing now and came out on the other side.”

  I didn’t know if that helped or not, but I nodded and then realized Dawson couldn’t see it with his back to me. “I think so.”

  “Yeah.” His voice was barely above a whisper, his hands clenched at his sides, and I knew he had to be beside himself with fear for his brother and for Kat. “I’ll be back.”

  Leaning against the back of the couch, I watched him disappear into the night. All of them had been through so much. It would be too unfair, too cruel to take Kat and Daemon or the baby. “What do you think he meant by Luc is there for the baby?”

  “Luc’s probably keeping the baby from going into distress while Daemon does the same for Kat.”

  “He can do that with the Source—for a baby?” A baby that was still inside its mama?

  “Luc can do almost anything with the Source,” Grayson answered, and I was awed by that. “Evie.”

  Still staring at where Dawson disappeared to, I wondered why I hadn’t heard another labor-induced scream. “What?”

  “Why are you rubbing your neck?”

  I was? I frowned. Yep. I still was even though the odd feeling had faded shortly after Dawson appeared. Surprised that he noticed that and unsure of how to answer, I faced him. “I don’t know. Why?”

  His eyes were narrowed as he watched me. “If you’re anything remotely like an Origin or a hybrid, you didn’t get a cramp in the neck.”

  “Uh…” I drew the word out. “No. I didn’t.”

  The stick jutting out from his lips had stilled again. “Did you feel something there?”

  Curling my hands inward, I shrugged.

  “How do you not know?” He took a step toward me.

  Wariness returned, seeping into me. “Why do you care?”

  “You know Luxen can sense other Luxen, right?” he said. “Hybrids always know where the one who mutated them is. Origins sense both and feel when an Arum nears. The proximity of when they feel the other varies from Luxen to Luxen, Origin to Origin, hybrid to hybrid. But when an Origin or hybrid feels the presence of a Luxen, they say it’s like
the touch of invisible fingers along their neck or between their shoulders.”

  I was tracking what he was saying, but I suddenly felt weird. Not ghost-fingers or cobwebs-on-the-neck weird, but as if my body were moving even though I was sure I wasn’t.

  Was the couch moving?

  “It would make sense,” Grayson was saying as I placed my hands on the couch. Nope. It felt like it was steady. “You felt it right before I walked into the carport, didn’t you? I saw you wiggle your shoulders like something was crawling on you, and just now, you looked right at that door the same time I felt Dawson drawing near.”

  “Wait.” That caught my attention, and I asked the least important question possible. “You were watching me?”

  “I’m always watching.” He stated that WTF bomb like he’d only just admitted to liking tea in the afternoon.

  “Okay. That is the creepiest—”

  A sudden whoosh went through as the entire carport seemed to spin around me.

  I stumbled to my feet, pressing my hand to the side of my head. For a second, it was as if I were tilting to the far right, but I was standing straight. I closed my eyes. Wrong move. Horrible, terrible, bad-idea level of wrong move. The entire world seemed to rock.

  Grayson was suddenly next to me. “You okay?”

  Was I? My heart pounded against my ribs. Swallowing, I took a shallow breath as I stared … at Grayson’s jeans? I was bent at the waist. When did that happen?

  “I’m fine.” I blinked, the dizziness gone as quickly as it had hit. At least I thought it was. I straightened, my gaze falling to where Grayson’s hand lay on my shoulder.

  Grayson was touching me.

  He never touched me.

  Well, there was the one time when Luc was shot and my skull had done an up-close-and-personal meet and greet with the roof of an SUV. Grayson had healed me and Luc, which meant he probably had to touch me then to do it. But despite what Luc claimed, I was confident he’d threatened Grayson with grave bodily harm to get him to heal me.

  Grayson saw what I was staring at and jerked his hand back as if it were on fire. This close, his eyes were like the sky before a storm. “Are you messing with me?”