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

by Ellery Kane

  Mr. Van Sant followed Max, the slam of his office door punctuating his departure. Suddenly exhausted, I flopped down on the sofa next to Artos. I let him soothe me with long-tongued kisses to my hands.

  “What happened?” Barry asked.

  “Edison’s missing, and Quin was … ” Finish that sentence, Lex. “ … shot at.” I spit out the words, watching Augustus as I spoke. Still twisted in anger, his face never changed. I knew he was listening—and I’d probably already said too much—but I couldn’t resist his invitation to sarcasm. “And I’m familiar with Cujo.”

  He sneered, his tone singsong, mocking. “I do hope Mr. McAllister wasn’t shot. A slow and painful death suits him much better. He was protecting you, I presume?”

  I shook my head.

  “Ms. Hamilton? Mr. Powers?”

  “No. He wasn’t protecting anyone.” Augustus raised a lone eyebrow but said nothing. He wanted me to ask. “Why do you seem so surprised?” I cursed myself for giving him the satisfaction, but I was curious.

  “Ms. Knightley, we’ve covered this ground already. Remember? Quin’s fatal flaw? Your boyfriend has a hero complex. Ever since he saw Daddy kill Mommy, he just can’t help himself. You, his father, his friends—he’ll always be jumping in front of trains for someone.”

  The clever comeback I was preparing fell flat as a cracker, dry inside my mouth. More than anything, I hated when Augustus was right, especially when I was wrong. And it was undeniable. That was Quin’s weakness. He’d battled Augustus for my zip drive, chased after Ryker to protect my mother, and now he was willingly inhabiting Xander’s lair to secure his father’s release.

  “String shot at him,” I said. “Sebastian Croft. Remember him? Your former employee. Are you happy now?” I wanted Augustus to feel guilty, but it was a lost cause. Snakes have no regrets.

  CHAPTER FIFTY - THREE :

  GUSHING

  Elana held her radio on her lap, the volume turned up. On the other end, there had been nothing but static for hours. Then a muted beeping, the battery light issuing its death knell. Now there was no sound at all. Edison’s radio was lifeless. Elana refused my attempt to wriggle hers from her hand, clutching it even tighter.

  “Where is he?” she asked again. She didn’t mean for me to answer.

  Barry tried to soothe her. “Don’t worry. I’ll try again in a few hours.” Shortly after we returned, he drove to Zenigenic’s headquarters only to be turned away by a military barricade stationed to protect the scene until all the bodies were removed. They told him Edison wasn’t among those arrested.

  So far Barbara Blake had identified all but one of the known casualties as members of the Oaktown Boys or Satan’s Syndicate. No civilians. No Zenigenic employees. No Quin. So far. Per her report, the other casualty—a soldier—was a victim of friendly fire. Friendly and kind to hear Xander tell it. I looked at the empty Docil-E2 canister on the coffee table and had a sudden urge to talk to my mother. The urge was so overwhelming, so completely futile that it scooped out an aching hole in my chest. She would know why the soldier acted that way. She always knew why.

  Elana’s sigh was bordering on hopeless. With a thud, she set the radio on the coffee table, where it stared at us. Then she sunk back down into the couch. Each gesture, a statement of despair. “What am I going to do?” she whispered, turning to me. “What if he doesn’t come back?” Her questions were my own—unsolvable. “I always thought I knew my worst thing, that I lived through it. But, what if there’s not just one? Or two? What if they keep coming and coming and coming?” Her thumb traced the scar on her wrist.

  I enveloped her hand in both of mine, trying to steel my own heart. “No matter how many bad things come, you’ll get through them. And so will I.” I felt stronger just saying it. “We’ll do it together.”

  “Lex!” Elana sat up suddenly, pointing to the muted television that had been cycling through a reality dating show marathon since the last news report. “Your dad!” I clicked the remote, bringing SFTV back to life. My father’s face, cropped from his Eyes on the Bay badge, was the first of two images. Under each picture, a different name—William Knightley and Carrie Donovan—but the same caption. Escaped Fugitive.

  “We have just received breaking news that two detainees have escaped from military custody tonight. They were being held at the military base in San Francisco in the newly erected detention facility, built in the wake of the Onyx crisis. The situation is still developing, but our military source confirmed these individuals should be considered armed and dangerous. Stay tuned to SFTV for more information. We will now return to our regularly scheduled programming.”

  Augustus was the first to speak. Unfortunately nothing ever seemed to shock him into silence. “Well, well, well, Ms. Knightley, I thought you got your recklessness from your mother. But now it looks like there’s another daredevil in the family.”

  I didn’t frown at him, didn’t glare, didn’t even glance in his direction. My father’s freedom, albeit stolen, struck a match inside me. Something like hope was catching fire.

  “Someone should tell Mr. Van Sant,” Barry said, gesturing up toward his office door. It hadn’t opened since he slammed it shut.

  I bounded past Barry. “I’ll do it.” Taking two steps at a time, I made quick work of the staircase, the horned bust of Orillius greeting me at the top. I pressed my ear to the door, listening before I knocked. Nothing. I rapped lightly once, then waited. The door flung open.

  “Is there news?” His tone was fragile, desperate, dousing my flame. “Did you hear from Edison?”

  I shook my head, and his shoulders slumped. “Oh. What is it then?” I followed him inside. Usually immaculate, his desk was strewn with pictures. “I’m sorry about the mess,” he said. “I was just … reminiscing.” The photo nearest me was Edison in a cap and gown. Mr. Van Sant touched it tenderly. “I missed his high school graduation. That was right before the accident. I was furious with him.”

  “Why?”

  “He’d been caught drinking again at school. Of course, I was worried about my reputation. It was always about me. Sometimes, I think Edison would’ve been better off with his mother. I was never really cut out for this fatherhood thing.” He gave a small, sad smile meant to reassure me, but it seemed only further proof of his brokenness. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bothering you with this. You came to tell me something.”

  I wanted to shout my news, to reclaim that flicker of faith before it turned to smoke, but I just couldn’t. “It can wait.” I pointed to another photograph, a young Mr. Van Sant holding Edison atop his shoulders. “Tell me about this one.”

  “Did you hear that?” Mr. Van Sant stood up and shut his laptop. For the last five minutes, we had been listening to the Eyes on the Bay coverage of the escape. There was a reported sighting of the two fugitives in downtown San Francisco—no word on Emma—and the military was referring to my father as the mastermind. It seemed obvious they would come here. Too obvious. With Xander and his makeshift Guardian Force intent on finding them, where else would they go? I hoped my father knew better. Mr. Van Sant returned his memories, stack by stack, into his desk drawer and withdrew his gun from a secret compartment behind it.

  Tap.

  Tap.

  Tap.

  In the quiet, the sound was easy to locate. I walked over to the window and slipped behind the curtain, just out of view. The backyard was dark except for a small circle of light radiating from the porch. I spotted the next pebble mid-flight. It came from a row of dense shrubbery near the fence, the leaves fluttering a little just before the tap. “Over there,” I said. “From the bushes.”

  “C’mon.” Keeping his gun close to him, Mr. Van Sant opened the door to his office and headed down the stairs.

  “What’s wrong?” Elana asked, nudging Max awake.

  He was instantly wide-eyed. “What’s going on?”

  Elana gestured to the yard. Artos was already at the door, his ears perked, waiting.

&n
bsp; “Someone’s outside,” I said.

  Barry pulled his gun from his waistband and tapped it against Augustus’ lanky arm. “You stay put.” Augustus scooted to the edge of the chair. The tension seemed to invigorate him.

  “Yes, sir.” He was practically giddy.

  So was Artos. His tail was twitching with excitement. Watching it pendulum back and forth, I had a hunch, but I couldn’t be certain. Barry went first, turning the lock and pushing the door open wide. He edged, slow and careful, to the opening. When Artos took off over the threshold frisky as a puppy, I knew. And my heart began marking time.

  “Show yourself,” Barry ordered, still concealing himself behind the doorframe. He trained his gun on the shaking shrubbery.

  I tapped his arm. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “Look at Artos.” He was jumping, standing on his hind legs, trying to propel himself over the tall hedge that ran the length of the fence. Realizing it was impossible, he started digging underneath it, dirt flying out from behind his paws. There was laughter from the bushes.

  “That dog is as nuts as you, McAllister.” Edison emerged first, poking his head through the leaves. As he stepped into the glow of the light, I could see his face was bruised. There was a cut above one eye and a purple dash beneath the other, which was nearly swollen shut. The sleeve of his uniform was ripped. I’m not sure who was faster to get there—call it a tie—but Elana deferred to Mr. Van Sant, letting him wrap Edison in a ferocious bear hug before she pushed her way in.

  I saw Quin’s hand first, then his shoulder—his rolled-up shirt sleeve revealing the dragon tattoo on his forearm—then the rest of him all at once. Artos wasted no time commencing their long-awaited reunion. He was running circles around Quin’s feet. I stayed still, watching Quin watch me. I didn’t dare move. But there was a frenzy happening inside me. It felt like wings beating in my chest.

  Mr. Van Sant was still holding onto Edison. He rubbed his head, mussing his hair. “You’re alive. Alive! Alive!” After the fourth alive, Quin snickered. Keeping his eyes on mine, he smiled slow and easy.

  Edison’s face reddened. He smoothed his hair and straightened his tattered uniform. “Seriously, Dad, you’re embarrassing me. Did you really think I couldn’t handle myself? Did you think Xander’s secretary was going to take me out? Or that idiot Valkov?”

  “He did clock you pretty hard with that desk chair,” Quin said, chuckling.

  “I had it under control, McAllister.”

  “I know you did.” With a wide grin, Quin knelt down and patted Artos head to tail with two hands—as Artos yelped with delight. “Not to steal Eddie’s thunder, but I’m the one who got shot at. And I am also … alive.”

  Next to me, Max guffawed. “Only you two would argue about who came closest to death.”

  “Not arguing,” Quin answered. “Just staking my claim for an equal amount of gushing.” He winked at me, and those wings started fluttering again.

  “Your dog is gushing enough for everyone,” Edison said, pointing to Artos. He was sitting on his haunches, inches from Quin’s feet, worshipping him with soulful eyes.

  “What happened to your face?” Elana asked, touching Edison’s nastiest bruise. He turned his head to Quin.

  “Ask McAllister.”

  Quin shrugged. “I had to make it look believable.”

  “It?” Elana sounded as puzzled—but simultaneously euphoric—as I was.

  “Let’s go inside,” Mr. Van Sant suggested. “I’m sure you two have a story to tell. And hopefully a hard drive to crack. We don’t have much time.”

  Edison padded the front pocket of his uniform. “Like taking candy from a baby.”

  Max and I lingered in the doorway until everyone passed. Everyone but Quin—and Artos. He was Quin’s shadow, weaving in between his legs and whining with excitement.

  Next to me, Max shifted foot to foot, his eyes trained on the ground, trying to work up his courage. “I didn’t know about String,” he finally said. “I just wanted to tell you that, in case you thought … ”

  “I didn’t,” Quin interrupted him. “I never would.” Max exhaled, then chortled as Quin pulled him into a playful headlock. “Because if you did … ”

  “Mercy. Mercy,” Max squeaked. “I give up.” As Quin released him, Max landed a quick jab to his shoulder and scampered inside, still laughing.

  “Okay, so what’s Augustus really doing here?” Quin asked me after Max left us alone. “We saw him through the window—no sign of Mr. Van Sant—and got worried … ”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Is that why you were hiding in the bushes?” I picked a spindly twig from his sleeve and held it up to him.

  Quin laughed. “Sort of. Eddie thought there was a chance Augustus might be holding his dad hostage. We figured a cautious approach would be best.” He brushed a leaf from his jacket. “Overly cautious, I guess.”

  “I like cautious. I want you to be cautious.” Gently, I reached for Quin’s forearm, tracing the length of it and slipping my hand into his. “I was so worried about you.”

  Our fingers laced together in a familiar embrace. “I was worried too. With Xander looking for you … ” He paused, holding something back.

  I looked at him with expectation, prompting him to continue.

  “Did Xander say anything to you at Coit Tower? About me?”

  I nodded, ashamed I let Xander hook me—even for a moment—to doubt Quin. “He wanted me to think you set me up. How did you know?”

  “Because he tried to do the same to me. He told me they found a story on your dad’s computer about me using Emovere again … and you were quoted in it.” The thought of Valkov’s fat nubs plunking across my father’s keyboard sent a spike of indignation through the heart of me.

  I shook my head. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know.” Quin squeezed my hand. I felt even worse for letting Xander inside my head. “He doesn’t want us on the same side. He knows we make a great team. An unbeatable one.” An easy, devil-may-care smile stretched across his face. It was undeniable. Irresistible. Sexy. But his confidence worried me.

  “Cautious, remember?”

  “Speaking of cautious … ” Quin’s smile was gone in an instant, replaced by a deep furrow between his brows. “What were you thinking showing up there today? You know Xander’s after you. I think he’s paid people to hurt you. That was really reckless, especially when I didn’t even know you’d be there. How could I protect—.” He stopped mid-sentence. “Sorry. I forgot. Not supposed to protect you.”

  I giggled, shaking my finger at him and trying not to think of Satan’s Syndicate or the possible bounty on my head. His eyes softened at the bandage wrapped on my still-healing palm. “You’re a quick learner, McAllister, but you’ll be happy to know, I’ve changed my mind. Protecting the people you love is just what you do. I used to think you saw me as helpless, but I realized you only do it because you care.”

  “You’re totally messing with me right now, aren’t you?”

  I shook my head, grinning. “I had an epiphany. An Augustus-induced epiphany.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that, but I guess I’ll take it … ” He reached for my other hand, the injured one, gently turning it over and bringing it to his lips. “ … if it lets me do this.” That single point of contact—so soft, so tender—was like a live wire against my skin. I gulped, desperate for a distraction.

  “So Xander … ?”

  Quin nodded. “He set up the whole thing. He called it R and D.”

  “R and D?”

  “Research and development.”

  Thinking of the bodies scattered haphazardly across Zenigenic’s courtyard, I shuddered. “I thought you were … ”

  “I know. But I’m not.” His soft brown eyes were an invitation. To touch him. To kiss him. To love him. To anything him. It was the vortex of Quin and it was unavoidable. I held myself back, teetering on the edge. I knew we had an audience—and after our last kiss, I wanted our first kis
s to be like the very first.

  I slipped both hands around his waist and pulled him to me, whispering against his ear. “Let the gushing commence.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY - FOUR :

  YOUNG LOVE

  “What a touching sight.” When we came inside, our hands still interlocked, Augustus spoke first, addressing Quin. “Young love is so forgiving. It’s almost as if your dalliance with that blonde—what was her name again?—never happened.” I had to give him credit. It was a special talent the way he knew when and where to strike. But I was learning. It was a game. And two could play it. While Quin drew in a sharp breath, clearly rattled, I just squeezed his hand tighter.

  I met Augustus’ keen stare. “Her name is Emma.” Elana’s mouth dropped open. Max did a double take. Augustus was mute. Declaring myself the victor, I released Quin’s hand and sat down on the sofa. Quin stood opposite me.

  Mr. Van Sant cleared his throat. “So where were we? Edison?”

  “Uh, okay.” His eyebrows raised at me, Edison grinned. “When the shooting started—”

  “Wait.” Quin raised his hand to stop him. “Since when do we trust this nutcase?” His eyes were radiating heat, fixed on Augustus. “How did you get out of those handcuffs?”

  A cruel smile played on Augustus’ lips. “While you were busy playing spy, drugging and kidnapping me, this nutcase plucked your girlfriend out of enemy clutches. So you might want to rethink your hostile position.” To Mr. Van Sant, he added, “If you want my help, I stay.”

  I shrugged at Quin. “Sorry,” I mouthed. He huffed, exhaling a short, loud breath in protest. Arms crossed over his chest, he assumed a contrary position near the entryway while Edison resumed his story.

  “I knew I had to get out of there. The transfer was only 95% complete, but I couldn’t chance it.”

  “Let’s hope the other five percent was Xander’s summer vacation photos,” Max joked. “Or Valkov’s romance novel.” We all laughed.

  “I headed down the elevator, sure that I was home free—but I never made it past the front entrance. Xander and Valkov came running in, so I hid inside a closet. They were both furious. At first, I thought they were yelling at each other.”