I took a step back. I couldn’t believe he even thought to ask that. “Oh yeah. You know, I thought there wasn’t enough going on, so I thought maybe I should pretend to be sick.”
His lip curled. “Wouldn’t surprise me.”
Ignoring the comment and wondering how I could’ve ever thought Grayson had a bit of humanity in him, I snatched the quilt off the cement.
“After all, you’re not the center of attention right now.” Grayson’s voice was as poisonous as a viper. “Are you that needy that you have to fake—”
“You are so lucky that stupid Blow Pop is no longer sticking out of your mouth, because I would seriously shove it down your throat.”
Grayson laughed as his lips curled in a mockery of a smile. “Should I be worried now?” he asked, calling back to what Luc had said when we were training. “Or was that a fluke earlier? If I recall correctly, it only took a hundred tries to get you to move the carton.”
It had not taken a hundred tries. More like a couple of dozen.
“Whatever.” His features hardened to stone. “Other than stand there and get other people killed, there’s not much you can do when it really counts, is there?”
Sucking in a sharp breath, I took another step away from him, his words a knife to the chest. I stared at him.
“Shit,” Grayson muttered, looking away. “I didn’t mean—”
“Yeah, you did.” I tossed the quilt on the couch. Turning from him, I started walking. I didn’t know where I was going. Maybe to the house. Maybe I’d just keep walking. All that mattered was that I got away from Grayson, because there was a good chance that if I stayed there, he would need to be worried.
Because I felt even weirder.
Wrong.
Jittery, like my blood and skin were buzzing. Pins and needles erupted in my toes and traveled rapidly up my legs. This was more than before, and it was the Source. I could feel it throbbing in the center of my chest. A fine sheen of sweat dotted my brow.
Grayson was suddenly in front of me. “Evie…”
“Move,” I muttered, or at least I thought I did.
The air shifted—no, the temperature of my body did. Fire flashed over me, and yet I was cold, freezing, and my eyes …
Something was wrong with them.
Grayson looked as if he were surrounded by a freaking rainbow. A prism of colors surrounded his entire body for a few seconds before he returned to normal, lit by the glow of solar lights.
And yeah, that was not right at all.
My steps were jerky, shaky as I blindly swept an arm to brush the canopy, and the material parted as if a hurricane-force wind had caught it.
I couldn’t tell if I had even touched it, because my skin was … I couldn’t feel my skin.
Heart thundering and pulse skyrocketing, I inhaled, but it was like breathing through a clogged straw. Pressing my hand to my chest, I felt my heart thumping too fast, way too fast. Maybe this wasn’t the Source. Maybe this was a panic attack. I’d never had one before, but Heidi used to get them when she was younger, before I knew her. She described them once to me, and it sounded a lot like this—like all my internal wiring just shorted out and my entire body was out of control.
I made it to the middle of the dark driveway when it hit.
Stunning, sweeping dizziness exploded, and it rolled through my body in a powerful wave that pulled me down, pulled me under.
I didn’t feel the hard impact with the ground. I didn’t feel or see anything, but I heard Grayson calling out to me. I couldn’t answer. Not when Luc’s voice replaced his. Not even when I heard Luc beg for me to open my eyes.
I was gone.
14
Evie.
I heard my name called in different voices and at different times. I thought I recognized some, and Luc’s voice was the one I heard the most. Sometimes it was just him saying my name, and then other times he was speaking to me, having a one-sided conversation.
“Zoe is worried about you, Peaches. Everyone is, even Grayson.”
Grayson? That sounded like a lie, but why would anyone be worried? My head was too thick with sleep to figure it out, and I was just tired and needed to sleep. There was nothing to be upset about.
“You’ve got to wake up, Evie.” Luc’s voice was a silky, warm whisper in the soothing darkness. “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me. Please.”
I wanted to do as he asked, because Luc wasn’t one to beg for anything or anyone, but I wasn’t ready, and dreams were beckoning me.
And I dreamed I was home.
I walked through the quiet living room that smelled of crisp apples and pumpkin spice, drawn to the kitchen.
With her back to me, she sat at the kitchen island, her blond hair smoothed back into a neat ponytail and her white blouse impossibly wrinkle-free.
She.
Sylvia Dasher.
Luxen.
Creator.
Betrayer.
Mom.
I’d come to a complete stop, unable to move as I stared at her, heart racing as a mix of emotions exploded within me. Anger was there, like a poison. So was confusion, because I knew I was dreaming, but this felt like a memory, and underneath those messy, explosive emotions was also happiness. Despite everything I knew and everything this woman had done and lied about, I was happy to see her. Relieved.
She sipped from a mug as she flipped the pages of a book I could not see, and I realized that I now smelled rich coffee and more.
Coffee. Apples. Pumpkin spice.
Home.
Willing my legs to move, I took another step and then stopped. Something about the dining room table caught my eye. A flower sat in the center, white lilies in a clear vase, flanked by two tapered candles in iron holders. There’d never been flowers there before. I’d remember that, because Mom wasn’t a flower person. She’d once said she didn’t like to watch something beautiful die.
My gaze flicked up to the wall. An unfamiliar painting hung there. A mountainous landscape in black and white. Slowly, I refocused on her. I was almost afraid if I spoke, she’d vanish, return to wherever the dead went.
I took a step forward and then stopped once more. There was a small, roughly round spot where something had stained the hardwood floor. It had been scrubbed clean, but not soon enough.
“Don’t worry about the floor. It will be replaced soon, and it’ll be like none of that ever happened.”
Jerking my head up, I held my breath.
Mom inclined her chin slightly to the right. “I was waiting for you to join me.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as tears rushed them. That was her voice. Warm. Calm. Each word spoken as if she’d put thought behind it. Nothing like she’d sounded the last time I’d heard her.
The woman was a liar, and God only knew if anything she ever said was the truth, but she was my mother.
“Come sit with me,” she said. “It’s time.”
Drawing in a ragged breath, I asked, “Time for what?”
She patted the stool next to her with a pale hand. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.”
Cool air stirred as a body brushed against mine, silencing me before I could respond. Startled, I turned and felt the floor drop out from under my feet.
A girl with blond hair slowly inched forward, as if each step required effort. Her hair fell to a waist so narrow I was confident two hands could span it. She was slim, too slim. The plain black shirt hung from shoulders and arms that were so frail and so thin, they looked like they could be broken with a snap of the wrist. Legs that were absent of fat or muscle appeared as if they were barely holding her up. This wasn’t someone who was just naturally thin with a hyper metabolism. This was someone who was sick.
Someone who was dying.
And it was me—when I was younger, when I went by the name Nadia.
Eyes wide, I watched her sit on the stool, arms folded at the waist, shoulders bunched, but she met Mom’s stare with no fear.
Confusion
flooded me as I stared at Mom and the younger version of me. Was this a dream or a memory?
“He promised not to hurt Luc, but he tried anyway,” she stated, incredibly pale jaw hard.
“Why would I trust you?”
“Because I kept my promise,” Mom replied.
The dying version of me laughed—laughed right in her face, and I think I developed a girl crush on me, which was as weird as it sounded. “None of you tell the truth.”
“And who do you think tells nothing but lies?”
“The Daedalus. You’re not saving my life because you have a soft spot for sick girls. You want to control him, and I’m a way to do it.”
“And Luc still brought you here. He still left you here.”
“That’s because he’s an idiot.”
I blinked.
Mom laughed, though, the sound painfully familiar. “No, it’s because he loves you even if he doesn’t yet know what that means. He’s willing to do anything to give you a second chance at life.”
“Like I said, he’s an idiot.” Her chin lifted. “And there’s nothing you can say or do that will make me trust you.”
That was me.
The boldness in her words and in her gaze drew a smile to my lips. She was fearless.
I had been fearless.
Empowered by who I used to be, I walked toward the end of the island, my gaze falling on Mom first. She was looking at Nadia, but that was her profile, her face, the faint lines marking the skin at the outer corners of her eyes the only sign of her age.
Sylvia Dasher was beautiful in a crisp sort of way. Straight, chin-length hair the color of champagne. High, angular features and pale skin devoid of makeup. I could count on one hand the amount of times I’d seen her wear mascara and lipstick. This was definitely Sylvia.
Then I looked at Nadia, really seeing myself for the first time. I saw my features in the shape of her face. She was so pale, though, the freckles standing out starkly, and the shadows under her eyes were like bruises. Her eyes were puffy as if she been crying recently, and I thought I knew why. Luc had just left her here. Left me here. My chest squeezed tight. Weariness clung to her mouth, and her lips held a slight, bluish tinge to them. Each breath she took was labored, as if it took everything in her to get her lungs to inflate.
How much longer would I have lived if Luc hadn’t brought me here? Definitely not months or even weeks. Maybe only days. That was how close I’d come to dying.
“You will,” Mom said after a long moment, and she almost sounded sad, resigned. She tapped her finger on the book. “Look at this.”
Brows furrowing, I did as she asked, and so did Nadia, her expression doing the same as mine. It wasn’t a book that rested on the island. It was a photo album, and Mom’s finger lay on the picture of a small blond girl sitting behind a birthday cake. A candle proudly proclaimed the number eight. She beamed at the camera, her smile so happy and big.
It was the picture of Evelyn Dasher.
The real one.
“You look so much like her,” Mom said. “You could’ve been sisters.”
Nadia leaned in just a little, her eyes widening as she stared down at the photo. “That’s … disturbing.”
Yes. Yes, it was.
Slowly, Nadia lifted her gaze and drew back, putting as much space between herself and Mom as she could.
Good to know the old version of me was just as wigged out as I had been when I’d found the photo album.
“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look at you. It was too hard when all I saw was my Evie.” Sylvia mashed her lips together and then slowly loosened her jaw. “She died in a car accident. Three years ago.”
Nadia stared at the photo.
“She may not have been my daughter by blood, but I was her mother in every way that mattered.” Her shoulders tightened, and then she turned the page. “Your resemblance is uncanny. I knew that was why he’d chosen you.”
Why he’d chosen you …
Nadia lifted her gaze, watching her for several seconds before asking, “When was the first time you saw me?”
I held my breath.
“A very long time ago,” she answered.
I exhaled harshly, wondering if it was possible to hyperventilate in a dream, if this was even a dream. If Mom had seen me long before I came to them with Luc, then that—
“This was a setup from the beginning,” Nadia accused, tiny beads of sweat dotting her forehead. “How? How did you—”
“There is very little the Daedalus cannot do, Nadia. Luc knows that better than anyone else.” Mom smoothed a hand over an imaginary strand of hair out of place, a habit that caused my heart to squeeze. “Do you remember how you found Luc?”
Nadia’s pale lips pressed tight as she stared mutinously at Sylvia.
“You told Luc you ran away from your father when he was passed out one night,” she said, staring at Nadia. “Why did you lie?”
Surprise gripped me as I saw the same emotion dance across Nadia’s flushed cheeks.
“Your father was very good at hiding who he was,” Mom stated. “Alan was once a soldier with the kind of medals only bravery could earn.”
She knew my father—my real one? And he had a name. My real father had a name. Alan.
“He went to war overseas with Jason, fought side by side with him. Jason considered him a friend, but he didn’t know who Alan really was. I don’t think many knew what kind of monster was under the mask he wore when your mother was still alive.”
I felt like I needed to sit down.
“Why didn’t you tell Luc the truth?” she asked. “Once you learned what he was and what he is capable of, you knew he could at any time reach into your mind and take those secrets.”
Nadia was quiet for so long. “I didn’t think about it around him.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t think about it.”
“Of course not.” Sympathy softened Mom’s tone, and, like a fool, I wanted to believe it was genuine. “You were protecting yourself against a monster.”
“I know what he was,” Nadia snapped, her slim chest rising and falling rapidly. “I know what he wanted. He was going to sell me to—”
“If we had known what your father was doing, we would’ve stepped in sooner. We wouldn’t have—”
“Tried to buy me from him like I was a piece of meat?” Tears clouded Nadia’s eyes. “Because it was him that I saw talking to Dad outside? It was Jason Dasher who came to the house that night? I couldn’t hear his voice or really see him, but it was him, wasn’t it?”
Sylvia nodded.
“Dad … he told me that he was going to sell me to him. That I’d finally be worth—” She sucked in a deep breath. “He’d said that it was our last night and I knew he wouldn’t stop this time.”
Oh God.
A knot of nausea lodged in my throat.
“I couldn’t stand it. I just couldn’t.” Her little hands balled into trembling fists. “When he grabbed me, I don’t even know when I picked up the knife.” Nadia closed her eyes. “I don’t remember even … putting it in him. There was just so much blood and I ran. That part wasn’t a lie.”
Holy crap.
Nadia killed her father.
I killed my father.
“He deserved far worse than that,” Mom replied. “Soon enough, you won’t have to worry about those thoughts ever intruding on you again.”
Nadia looked at her then, her brown eyes slightly unfocused but still filled with so much steely will and sharp intelligence. She was no one’s fool.
“The kid I ran into two days later, by the park with all the ducks?” Nadia’s voice roughened. “He was the one who told me about Paris and the club Harbinger—said that Paris had a soft spot for street kids. That I could get something to eat there. That kid … that was no accident, was it?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Sylvia smiled briefly. “We needed you to meet Luc. Paris isn’t the only one who has a soft heart when it comes to broken things
.”
A strangled laugh wheezed out of Nadia. “What is the Daedalus? A psychotic Match.com? What would you have done if Luc had kicked me out? He hated me at first. Told me I smelled and looked like a Garbage Pail Kid.”
Sounded like something Luc would say.
“We would’ve found another, but that’s irrelevant, because he didn’t. He took you in and made you his.”
They would’ve found another, confirming what I’d already suspected. They would’ve kept putting people in Luc’s path, little time bombs waiting to be exploited.
The pink in her once pale cheeks deepened. “I guess you all just—” A rattling cough shook her entire body. “I guess you all just got lucky with the whole cancer thing.”
Sylvia turned back to the photo album, her fingers trailing over the photo of Evie. “There is no such thing as luck, Nadia.”
My lips parted. No. There was no way she could mean what I thought she did. The Daedalus couldn’t give people cancer.
But they could take alien DNA and meld it with humans’. They could create entire species and use technology the public had no idea even existed. They were capable of anything.
“Evie, I need you to wake up.”
The weird dream rippled without warning, the gray countertops and white cabinets fading until everything went black. It lasted seconds, maybe minutes. There was no concept of time, and then everything came back into focus.
“Why are you telling me this?” Nadia asked, wincing as she shifted on the stool. “Because the serum doesn’t work and I’m going to die anyway? If that happens, Luc will find out. He will kill you.”
“The serum worked, Nadia, and that’s why. You’re going to get very sick, very soon. You already are starting to feel the effects. I can see the fever in your skin. I bet your joints are beginning to ache.”
Nadia shuddered.
“The fever will get worse, and it will feel like you’re dying. I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.” Mom closed the photo album. “And then a new life begins.”
A dawning sense of horror crept into Nadia’s watery eyes. “You’re going to mutate me.”
The Brightest Night Page 19