The Legacy Series Boxed Set (Legacy, Prophecy, Revelation, and AWOL)

by Ellery Kane

  Quin’s voice shook nervously as he began speaking. Aside from Max, Elana, and myself, I doubted he had ever explained this part of himself to anyone.

  “You know … knew … my father.”

  Under the table, I found Quin’s hand and interlaced my fingers with his. His palm was sweaty, and he squeezed hard as he spoke.

  “He was in prison, when you met him. You were doing an experiment with Crim-X.”

  My mother looked at Quin, the blood draining from her face. She had seen the ghost of her past in the handsome, brown-eyed boy next to me.

  “George McAllister, Inmate 243,” she whispered, almost inaudibly.

  Quin nodded. “He killed my mother.” Quin’s hand left mine and went to his face. He covered his eyes.

  The room was silent, tomb-like. Even Edison looked subdued. My mother stood and went over to Quin. She knelt next to him and put her arm around him.

  “Quin and Colton,” she said softly. “I have thought of you so often since I ended that dreadful research trial. I’m so sorry. You can’t imagine how sorry I am.”

  I was surprised. I had always believed the government had forced the closure of the Crim-X experiment, thinking my mother was too proud to ever accept failure.

  “When you’re ready, Quin, I have some things I would like you to see.” My mother rubbed his shoulder and took a breath.

  “Now who wants dessert?” she asked, diverting everyone’s eyes from Quin but mine. “I’ve been saving some chocolate ice cream for a special occasion.”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  SOMETHING PRECIOUS

  AF TER DESSERT, AS MY MOTHER sat and talked to everyone, I snuck away into my bedroom. It was just as I had left it, but it felt foreign somehow. I sat on the bed, flipping through my journal. Though most people kept their diary on a computer tablet, my mother had encouraged me to handwrite my journal. She always told me there was something satisfying, releasing, about putting pen to paper—and she was right.

  My last entry was the day before I left for San Francisco.

  April 5, 2041

  It’s 2 a.m. I’ve been putting off writing for the entire day. Even now, I don’t want to write this. If I write it, it will be real. Tomorrow is the day—the day that my life changes. Mom keeps saying she’s not worried, but I know she’s good at hiding her feelings. Me, on the other hand, I’m a wreck. I have so many thoughts racing through my head that I can hardly write fast enough. What if I can’t find the Resistance or they don’t find me? What if something happens to Mom while I’m gone? Or worse, what if something happens to me? I don’t know if she could bear it. I’m trying my best to see this all as a grand adventure, but the truth is that I’m afraid. For some reason, I’ve been thinking a lot about Dad lately … wondering what he’d say about all of this, if he’d be proud of me …

  There was a soft knock at the door, interrupting my reading. Quin’s face peeked around the doorframe.

  “Can I come in?” he asked.

  “Sure,” I replied, but I felt my cheeks warm with embarrassment. My room suddenly seemed to belong to a little girl, my stuffed bear watching us, glass-eyed, from my bed. Quin walked over to my desk, running his hand absentmindedly across the dark wood. My academic awards, ribbons, and trophies were stacked side by side. Quin leaned over to inspect them.

  “Pretty impressive, Ms. Knightley,” he said, grinning at me.

  “I guess.” I didn’t want him to think I was bragging.

  Quin sat down next to me. I was instantly aware of his body in relation to mine. There were exactly five inches of space between his thigh and my hand.

  “So today was interesting,” I offered, hoping he would take the bait.

  As usual, Quin wasn’t biting. He only nodded.

  “I’m really proud of you,” I said, nudging his shoulder with mine. “It took a lot of courage to tell my mom.”

  Quin nodded again. His silence frustrated me, and I sighed.

  Even so, I continued—hopeful I would wear him down with the persistence he so undervalued. “You and Edison obviously have quite a history. Will you tell me what happened?”

  Quin looked down. “If I have to,” he said, only half joking. I raised my eyebrows at him, encouraging him to continue.

  “For starters, what he said about me wasn’t entirely true. He was a total jerk, a spoiled rich kid. He lived in this fancy house across from the park where I slept. He and his friends would go there lots of nights to get drunk. A couple of times, his girlfriend tried to talk to me or give me food. Eddie couldn’t stand it. He was so jealous. You can probably guess that this wasn’t the first time I hit him.” Quin lowered his eyes and continued. “Anyway, he told the Guardian recruiting officers where to find me. They had been looking for me for a while.”

  I could understand why Quin despised Edison. He did seem spoiled and was kind of a jerk.

  “So you’re not a ladies’ man?” I tried to make my voice sound feather light as if I didn’t care at all about the answer.

  “Lex,” Quin said, chiding me as if I was a little girl. “What are you really asking?”

  I took a breath. I couldn’t find the right words. I shrugged, feeling babyish.

  “You know who I was then,” Quin continued. “I was like a shell of a person, always looking for something or someone to make all of this okay.” He gestured toward himself. “I was really impulsive … even more than I am now. So yes, I’ve been with girls in my past, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  The plurality of the word girls stung more than I had expected.

  “But …” Quin’s turned to look at me.

  “Don’t say it didn’t mean anything, Quin.” I sounded like I was pouting. Maybe I was.

  “I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “Oh.”

  Quin lay back on my bed, perpendicular to my pillows, his feet still on the floor. I could see a thin line of his skin and the point of his hip bone, where his T-shirt met his jeans. My hand wanted to place itself there, but I didn’t allow it.

  “I was going to say that those girls didn’t know anything about me. I was a pretend Quin. You know me, the real me, better than anyone has. If we ever … if you ever wanted to … do that … it would be different.”

  I didn’t know what to say to Quin. My body felt things I couldn’t easily express. I wondered when Quin’s communication skills had started to exceed mine.

  I lay back beside him, not speaking. He turned toward me, waiting for me to meet his eyes, but I didn’t. I was afraid to. I didn’t know how or when it happened, but I had given Quin something of mine, something precious. I worried he would break it without meaning to.

  Quin pressed his mouth to my ear, his breathing drowning all other sounds until he spoke. His voice was barely a whisper.

  “I’ve never said this to anyone.” He paused, his breath marking the seconds. “Lex.” I had never heard my name sound so heavy with longing. “I’m falling in love with you.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  DEMONS

  QUIN TOOK MY HEAD IN his hands, turning it toward him, moving his mouth a few inches from my ear to my lips. He tasted like chocolate ice cream. I turned my body toward his and let my hand wander to the spot it had wanted to find—the soft, warm skin just above his waistband, the sharp point of his hip. When I touched him, Quin kissed me harder. I felt powerful, desired.

  Still, I was afraid to respond to Quin’s I love you, uncertain if my hesitation had to do with who Quin was or who I was—or maybe who we were together. I was starting to understand that my father’s absence had affected me more than I realized. It was hard for me to trust Quin with all of me and even harder to trust myself.

  Quin slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me in close to him, hiding his face in my hair. “You smell so good,” he said.

  “I do?” I laughed.

  Quin nodded, his face still next to mine. I could feel his stubble rubbing against my cheek. “You smell like you,” he whispered. />
  “Lex?” My mother’s voice was a splash of cold water. I sat up instantly. “Where are you?” she asked.

  Quin stood abruptly and sat in the chair by my desk.

  I smoothed my hair. “In here, Mom,” I replied.

  She opened the door cautiously.

  “There you are.” She smiled warmly, but there was an edge in her voice. I wondered if it was possible for her to know, just by looking at me, that my mouth had been pressed to Quin’s a few seconds ago.

  “I’ll let you two talk.” Quin walked toward the door and out of it, without looking back. The room felt empty without him.

  My mother closed the door and sat down next to me. “What a day, huh?” She laughed, making her eyes seem slightly less weary.

  “It feels so good to be home,” I said.

  She nodded and pulled me in close to her.

  “Mom, I know this wasn’t easy for you. I’m sorry that—”

  “Lex, there’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just so grateful to have my girl back with me. You should probably get some sleep. You must be exhausted. I’ve put your friends in the guest room and on the couch.”

  I yawned. My mother was right, my eyelids did feel heavy. Since I had left, I hadn’t once slept through the night. My mother walked to the door, as if to leave, but she paused. She appeared to be considering her words carefully, which she often did.

  “Quin.” She said his name thoughtfully as if he was a research topic she was studying. “He seems to like you.”

  I couldn’t help my broad grin. I had always failed miserably at keeping secrets from my mother. Even though I had wanted to keep it for myself, at least for a while, I had told her about my first kiss as soon as I had arrived home from the football stadium. The words simply tumbled out of my mouth even as I tried to contain them. Now, I didn’t even try to lie to her.

  “I like him too, Mom. A lot.”

  A shadow of worry passed over my mother’s face. “I just want you to be careful, Lex. Quin is not like you. He’s been through a lot. Things like that don’t just go away. They haunt a person.”

  I bristled inside. I had been through something too. My mother seemed to think that losing my father was like misplacing a sock.

  “I am being careful, Mom.” My voice sounded harsher than I intended. “Quin would never hurt me.” Even as I spoke the words, I didn’t completely believe them.

  She nodded. “I can see why you like him, but I want you to remember something. The past—Quin’s past—is not dead. It’s very much alive inside him, and I don’t want his demons to become yours.”

  It sounded as if she was speaking from experience, but she didn’t elaborate. I resisted the urge to respond. I wanted to tell her that, to me, loving someone required fighting his demons as if they were my own. My mother said nothing else. She kissed my forehead and left me alone, my own demons howling inside my head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  A BOY WITH A PAST

  I WAS DREAMING AGAIN—THIS TIME of my father. I was walking next to him in a field of tall grass. I had met him in my dreams before, but this was a dream like no other. For the first time, in a dream I knew. I knew that he had left us and yet was still walking there beside me.

  I said, “I miss you.”

  “I know,” he replied.

  “No, you don’t.”

  He walked away from me until all I could see was the grass waving to me in the wind.

  A sound awakened me. Startled, I said a silent thank you that I was in my bed at home. I saw a thin bar of light under my door. Someone was awake.

  Edison sat at the kitchen table, a glass of water in front of him. His eyes were alert, but red-rimmed as if he hadn’t been to sleep at all.

  “Hey,” he said softly. “I can’t sleep. Hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “It’s okay.” I tried to imagine what it would be like to be Edison, alone in a strange house with people who didn’t really like him all that much. I would try to be nice.

  “So why don’t you like bridges?” I asked.

  “You don’t waste time with pleasantries, do you?” His voice was harsh, but he grinned.

  “I guess not,” I admitted.

  “I like that,” he said. His directness made me feel instantly shy, and I avoided his eyes.

  Sensing my discomfort, Edison returned to my question. “I’ll tell you what happened, but don’t tell McAllister, okay? He already thinks he’s better than me.”

  I hesitated. Promising to withhold something from Quin seemed like a betrayal, but I was so curious that I nodded my agreement.

  Edison began, “In high school, I used to drink a lot. I’m sure Quin told you. My father got me out of a lot of close calls with the police. He had connections, as they say.” I remembered Edison emphasizing his last name when he introduced himself. His father was obviously someone important. “So he told me if I messed up one more time, I was dead to him—cut off.”

  “What about your mother? Did she feel the same way?”

  Edison shook his head. “She left when I was eight, and I haven’t seen her since. I don’t really blame her though. My dad wasn’t exactly a model husband.”

  I looked at Edison with understanding. As much as it pained me to admit, we had a lot more in common than I would have thought.

  “But I messed up anyway. I was driving, totally wasted, and I went right off a bridge.”

  “Wow. Were you injured?”

  Edison gave an ironic chuckle. “That’s the twisted part. I was fine. But my friend Connor drowned. I was sitting on the bank of the river when they pulled his body out. His lips were blue.”

  “When was that?”

  “Last year. I got probation. I killed my friend, and I got probation. My dad hasn’t spoken to me since.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Edison’s self-loathing explained a lot, and I began to realize he didn’t repulse me anymore. He was just like Quin and Max, a boy with a past.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  ONYX

  I AWOKE EARLY THE NEXT morning to the smell of strong coffee. I opened my closet with eager anticipation, excited that I no longer had to choose from one of two outfits. I decided on my favorite T-shirt. The cotton was worn soft and nearly paper thin. It was my father’s from Columbia University, where he had studied journalism. He and my mother met there.

  I had always assumed I would attend Columbia as well, but after the economy failed, many universities were forced to close. Now I wasn’t sure if I would ever go to college. My mother had told me to throw out that T-shirt countless times, but I couldn’t part with it. After putting it on, I brushed my hair into a loose ponytail and wandered into the kitchen.

  Elana and my mother were sitting side by side at the table, talking quietly. Elana’s eyes were glassy, and she held a balled-up tissue as if she had been crying. Artos sat on the floor near her feet, sleeping.

  “Good morning, sweetie.” My mother’s voice was cheerful. “Elana was just telling me a bit about herself.”

  Elana smiled at me. “Your mom is a good listener, Lex. Just like you.”

  As I took a seat next to them, Quin and Max walked in from the living room, where they had slept. Max’s hair stuck up awkwardly on one side, and his face looked groggy. Quin met my eyes and smiled furtively.

  “It’s too early for crying,” Max joked with Elana, mussing her hair with his hand.

  Elana laughed. “Is it too early for a brush?” she asked, mussing Max’s hair right back. Somehow Max had a way of making everyone feel lighter.

  Quin gently pulled my ponytail as he walked behind me. “Good morning, Alexandra.” He enunciated each syllable of my name in a soft, teasing voice, making me wish we were alone.

  Carrie and Edison joined us a few minutes later. Carrie lugged an oversized bag marked with the Zenigenic logo. I assumed it held her computer and some of the research data she had taken with her from the lab.

  When we were all assembled, my mother addressed th
e group. “I think we should discuss our next steps,” she said. “There are some things I want to show all of you, but first …” My mother’s voice became faint as she walked out of the room.

  She returned with her laptop computer. I hadn’t seen it in at least a year. She usually kept it inside her lab and didn’t allow me to use it. Neither of us had accessed the Internet since the city had been evacuated, so I was surprised when she opened a search engine website.

  “Mom, I thought the Internet was off-limits.”

  “It is,” she said. “But today, we’re making an exception.”

  Into the search bar, she typed a name: Augustus Porter. Immediately, over five hundred results were displayed, most of which seemed to be related to Augustus’ former life as an investment banker.

  My mother opened the first link to an article entitled Investment Banker Arrested on Reports of Insider Trading.

  She read aloud: “On September 9, 2030, Augustus Porter, a well-known investment banker, was arrested on charges that he illegally traded shares through accounts belonging to his ex-girlfriend to net nearly a one-million-dollar profit. He has been charged with ten counts of fraud and faces up to twenty years in prison. Mr. Porter had no comment.”

  She scrolled through the search results to find a later article: Investment Banker Receives Probation, Wall Street Stunned.

  “Wall Street executives expressed their disbelief today after Augustus Porter was acquitted on several charges of fraud. He was convicted of three counts of making false statements and received two years’ probation. After court proceedings concluded, Mr. Porter addressed the media, praising the judge for his just and rational decision. He indicated that he plans to leave the financial industry to pursue a career in politics. Mr. Porter has long maintained his innocence in any financial wrongdoings.”

  Buried on the fourth page of results was a newspaper article from 2020: South Bronx Man Arrested for Defrauding the Elderly.

  “Gus Porter, a twenty-year-old resident of the South Bronx, was arrested Friday afternoon after reports that he defrauded at least twenty elderly women. According to some of the victims, they were telephoned by Mr. Porter over a month ago and promised assistance investing their retirement savings. After Mr. Porter collected an initial payment from the women, he did not contact them again, and their money was never invested. Police indicated that Mr. Porter defrauded the victims of upwards of $15,000.”