Night Resurrected Page 24

  “Well, I figured since she had a crystal,” Cat added deliberately, “it might not be as simple as that.” She was rewarded when Dad and Wyatt both paused in their steps.

  “What kind of crystal?” Dad demanded as Wyatt said, “She was blond? Not dark-haired?”

  “Blond,” Cat replied. “Her hair was almost white. And she’s a Stranger. Or at least, she’s got a crystal right where they usually have them.”

  “Was she wearing a leather vest?”

  “Well, yeah. She was. Is.” How did Wyatt know that?

  He gave no indication, instead saying something sharp and violent under his breath. Almost as if they read each other’s minds, Dad and Wyatt picked up speed and nearly left her behind.

  Hurrying to keep up, Cat admired Wyatt’s powerful stride and broad shoulders, the confident, arrogant way he moved. He had great arms, all muscular and tanned. Then, noticing his dark, intense expression, she couldn’t help wonder if he might not be a little too much man. Even for her.

  “And she’s dead? You’re certain of it?” Wyatt’s expression made her even more unsettled as he looked down at her.

  “She’s not breathing and there’s no pulse. I’m guessing she’s dead,” Cat snarked back as they reached the stairwell. As if she couldn’t tell a dead person when she saw one.

  Wyatt’s lips twitched a little, then he said a little more mildly, “Strangers don’t usually die . . . unless their crystal is removed.” Then he opened the door and gestured her through.

  “You can see for yourself,” Cat replied. “Her crystal is still embedded just below her collarbone. I’ve never seen one up close, but how many people have crystals embedded in their skin?”

  She started up the steps ahead of them. She figured it couldn’t hurt for Wyatt to have the chance to check out her ass, which, she’d been told, was quite a piece of art.

  When they got to the room, Cat took her time opening the door as a way to warn Remy they were returning. The plan was for her to stay hidden in the closet while Dad removed the body, and she was supposed to duck inside when she heard the sounds at the door.

  Everything went as planned: Cat opened the door to reveal the dead bounty hunter still slumped in her chair. Remy was nowhere in sight. Dad and Wyatt slipped in quickly, closing the door behind them.

  “It’s her, all right,” Wyatt said, bending to move the leather vest away and examine the crystal.

  Then all at once there was an eruption from behind the closet door. Barking, whining . . . and then the door flew open and Dantès burst out.

  “What the hell?” Dad said, and at the same time, Wyatt exclaimed, “Dantès? What are you doing here?” As he crouched to greet the ecstatic dog, who clearly knew him, he looked up at Cat. His eyes flashed. “What is this dog doing here?”

  Utterly confused and discombobulated, Cat tried to respond with something that made sense. “Um . . . I just found him.” That was the truth . . . sort of.

  “Wyatt?”

  The disbelieving whisper somehow filtered over all the other noise.

  “You’re . . . alive.” Remy stood at the entrance to the closet, staring at the scene in front of her. “I thought you were dead. I thought you . . . burned.”

  One moment Wyatt was crouched, petting Dantès . . . and the next moment he was there, taking Remy by the arms, pulling her up close. He looked down at her as if he’d seen a ghost. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded . . . but the tone was not peremptory. It was relieved and thick, filled with emotion.

  “You’re supposed to be dead, you jerk,” Remy said, shoving at Wyatt’s chest. He didn’t release her arms. “You have no idea what I’ve gone through in the last—” She threw herself into his embrace, fairly melting into that powerful torso.

  And as Cat watched, openmouthed, Wyatt’s arms curved around her and he drew Remy up against his chest, filtering his fingers through the hair at her neck. She was sniffling and shaking, clutching at his shirt as if drowning.

  Wyatt’s expression changed. Softened. Cat saw the way his arms tightened, pulling Remy closer. Noticed the way he brushed his cheek against the top of her head . . . and even as he loosened his hold, releasing her, he dragged his hand over her head, buried his nose in her hair for the briefest of moments. Taking a good sniff before setting her away from him.

  Well. There goes my chance for the hot guy.

  “I’m definitely not dead,” he said in the most bland understatement of all time. Once again he gazed at Remy, this time as if he’d just found an entire cache of that rare thing called duct tape.

  “I can see that,” Remy responded, swiping the back of her hand under her eyes. “You are such a jerk.” But she was smiling behind the words, and Cat understood she was missing a whole lot of subtext between them. She actually felt hot and light-headed, seeing how Wyatt looked down at Remy. If someone ever looked at her that way, she didn’t think her knees would hold up.

  “Ahem.” Dad’s bemused but pointed interruption drew their attention. “I think there’s more of a story here about this bounty hunter than what Cat told us,” he said, his eyes settling on his daughter purposefully.

  “Well, yes,” Cat admitted, glancing at Remy.

  Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Wyatt, whose attention had been completely focused on Remy, looked at Dad, then at Cat, and all at once he changed. He stilled and the expression that crossed his face was fleeting, but raw and uncomfortable. Then his features settled into something else. Harshness—stony and cold.

  He moved away from Remy and returned to Lacey’s side, examining her. “Well? How did she end up here? Knowing you,” he jerked his head toward Remy without looking up, “it was no accident.”

  “Of course not,” she replied. Her voice was just as brisk as his and her expression revealed nothing of her feelings. A subtle chill had descended on the room, filling the space between Remy and Wyatt, leaving Cat bewildered. Her attention bounced from one to the other as her new friend explained what happened.

  To Cat’s mild surprise, Remy told the entire story of how they’d come to meet up and how Lacey came to be in this room.

  “You pulled a gun on a bounty hunter?” Dad turned toward her.

  She wasn’t sure if he was pleased or shocked, but she grinned anyway. “Maybe now you’ll let me join your secret group,” she said.

  “Fat chance,” her father replied. “Someone in the family has to stay safe and sane.”

  He and Wyatt exchanged glances and grim smiles. Once again Cat was struck by the fact that they not only wore the same expression, but they bore a resemblance to each other. Someone in the family. A prickle slid down her spine. Her grandfather’s name had been Wyatt. Was that just a coincidence?

  “So Lacey came into the room, and almost immediately after, she began to show the symptoms of her illness?” Wyatt asked. His voice was businesslike, clearly directed at Remy . . . but he was looking at the dead woman again.

  “It was the presence of the crystal,” she explained. “At least, that was what Lacey said—and I believe her. It was sitting on the table there, hidden in a pile of clothes. I actually felt a little zing in the air, and Lacey must have, too, because she reacted immediately. I don’t think she realized what happened right away, but it didn’t take long before she was in pain, grabbing at her crystal.”

  “It’s opaque gray now,” Wyatt said, lifting the vest. “Not blue, like they normally are.”

  “It wasn’t before. I can’t say when it changed, but when she and Goldwyn had me, I—”

  “Had you?” he interrupted, glancing over. “Oh. The bruising. On your face.” His mouth tightened but he continued his examination of the body.

  “The crystal was definitely blue then,” Remy continued, her tone matching his. “Four, five days ago.” Then she drew in her breath sharply. “Oh my God. Marley. Someone needs to find Marley Huvane.”

  Remy couldn’t help gawking at the room lined with banks of important-looking machines th
at hummed and whirred in a constant rumble. Theo and Lou Waxnickis’ secret subterranean computer lab was windowless, brightly lit, and also furnished with desks, chairs, and a collection of mismatched sofas. A blue and yellow license plate with WIXY 98 and California stamped on it hung on the wall. A Lord of the Rings poster was the only other decor.

  “This looks like something from a movie,” she said to Wyatt as Sage stood from the chair at which she’d been furiously typing on a keyboard.

  Finding and entering the laboratory had made her feel like she was in one of those James Bond DVDs too. In order to get here, they went to the abandoned, decrepit-looking part of the hotel building and located a particular elevator. Wyatt pushed the up and down buttons in a certain pattern and moments later the elevator doors opened. Then they descended a short distance and he punched in a code using the floor numbers. The rear door opened to reveal a stairway that led down into the actual room.

  Remy looked around the room and realized she knew everyone here. Elliott and Jade, Quent and Zoë, Simon and Sage, Fence and Ana and George, plus Wyatt, David, Cat, and herself. What a group.

  Again she thought, there was something very special about the cohesiveness of these people. Something that went beyond simple camaraderie.

  And then with a start she realized: these are my friends. These are people I trust. And they’re going to help me.

  I’m not going to be doing this alone.

  She looked at Wyatt for the hundredth time, drinking in the sight of him. How could he still be alive? She’d seen him go into that flaming building. She’d seen the roof collapse on top of him. But here he was, and he didn’t appear to have a scratch or a burn anywhere on his smooth, golden skin.

  “Shouldn’t Vaughn be here?” she murmured to him.

  She couldn’t read Wyatt’s expression as he replied, “He’s a little tied up right now. Besides, he wasn’t invited.”

  “Hey everyone—I’ve got Theo and Lou connected,” Sage said. “They’ll be joining us on that monitor there.” She pointed to a large flat screen that looked like a television. As she did so, the faces of the two computer geeks appeared.

  “Can you hear us?” Theo said.

  “Yes,” Sage confirmed.

  Just then Selena appeared in the screen behind the Waxnickis, and Remy thought it was very cool when her friend actually waved to her.

  She waved back, feeling a little odd to be greeting a picture of someone. But then she realized this was just as if they were in the room with them, even though the Waxnickis and Selena were more than fifty miles away in Yellow Mountain.

  “We are gathered here today—” Fence intoned in a deep voice, then snickered as Ana elbowed him in the gut.

  “All right, Wyatt,” Elliott said. “The floor is yours. Tell us what you’ve got.”

  “Remy has the Mother crystal,” Wyatt announced. “Which is what the Strangers have been searching for since her grandfather procured it fifty years ago and, presumably, is why they want her turned over to them in the next—” He looked at one of the computer monitors. “—twenty-eight hours. We’ve got hardly more than a day.”

  Despite his sobering words, the reaction from the others couldn’t have been more surprised, particularly Ana’s.

  “You have the Mother crystal? Seriously?” Her voice was reverent, hardly above a whisper. “Here? Could we see it?”

  Remy glanced at Wyatt, who said, “I’m not sure it’s safe for Ana to get too close to it. Right now, it’s in the other room, wrapped in asbestos. The crystal has already destroyed Lacey merely by being in the same room. It seems to have killed her crystal, and she died shortly after.”

  “And something happened to Marley,” Remy added, “this morning, when she came into—into close range. She seemed fine when she left, but . . .” She worried her lip, looking around. “Has anyone seen her? I hope she’s okay.” She’d already raised the concern to Wyatt, who said he’d send someone to find her, but there’d been no word yet.

  “I saw her just a while ago,” Jade said. “She seemed all right. A little distracted, but healthy. She was talking to a family who was leaving the city.” Remy’s concern for Marley relaxed as Jade’s elegant features tightened. “People are going in droves.”

  “Like I said,” Wyatt glanced at Remy, “the mayor’s tied up, trying to keep his city under control.”

  “And Marley knows you have the Mother crystal?” Quent interrupted.

  Remy shook her head. “She didn’t actually see it. I don’t think she knows. But Lacey did. She realized almost right away what happened.”

  “What did happen?”

  Remy explained about the little sizzling pop and how Lacey’s life simply drained away.

  “The Mother crystal won’t hurt me,” Ana said. “I’m not immortal. My crystals only help me breathe underwater; they aren’t my source of life. Can we see it?” Her eyes gleamed with interest.

  Remy felt a little tremor of unease, for Ana seemed voraciously, almost greedily, interested in the crystal. But Wyatt curled his fingers around her hand and gave a little squeeze as their eyes met. A leap of heat sizzled along her arm. This was the first time he’d touched her since that awkward moment in Cat’s room . . . which still had her upset and confused.

  He’d been genuinely happy and relieved to see her then. The emotionless facade slipped from his face, clearly showing his feelings when he moved across the room to embrace her. His strong, solid arms curved around her, so welcome and secure. But then the warmth was gone. Just as so many times before—the same pattern.

  It was as if he could only allow himself a brief moment of joy or release, then he had to tuck anything good or happy away. Bury it deep inside and cover it up with guilt and anger.

  She shook her head, wondering if there was ever a chance for happiness or joy to take root and make its way out of the darkness to grow permanently.

  And how trite, these mental metaphors of hers.

  “All right, Remy?” Wyatt was looking at her.

  She realized with a start he’d been waiting for her permission to show them the crystal. Well that’s new. He was asking for her opinion? She nodded, and he disappeared into the next room.

  This gave her the opportunity to lean toward Elliott and whisper, “I thought . . . didn’t Wyatt get caught in the fire? He doesn’t look burned. But I saw him go in there.”

  He looked at her, his expression one of sympathy and compassion. But before he could respond, Jade interjected, “You mean he didn’t tell you what happened?”

  “No.”

  Jade rolled her eyes and made a tsking sound. “Men.”

  “I think he might have a few other things on his mind,” Elliott replied dryly. “Like the fact that we’re basically under a death watch.”

  “Which is exactly why he should be telling her things. Everything,” Jade added loudly and pointedly enough for Wyatt to hear as he walked back in. “Our days might be numbered.” She glared at him.

  Wyatt didn’t seem to notice; or if he did, he ignored Jade. Upon reflection, Remy figured it was probably the latter—he was very good at ignoring things. Without a word, he unrolled a dark piece of clothlike substance and set the small orange crystal on the table where everyone could see it.

  Remy realized she was holding her breath, waiting to see if something happened: another sizzle or pop or a flare-up or a flash of light . . . but the crystal merely sat there, glowing softly, as if a small orange flame burned deep inside.

  “So this is what they’ve been looking for,” Quent said. “All these years.”

  “Don’t fucking touch it,” Zoë snapped, yanking away his outstretched hand.

  He looked at her, and Wyatt saw him roll his eyes before returning his hand to his lap. “Remy’s had it in her possession for years, haven’t you? And it hasn’t caused her any harm.”

  Zoë snorted. “Maybe not, but you have this other damned thing, genius. That sucking vortex that drags you into a black hole whenever you
touch something new? Remember that sweet little gift?”

  He looked at her and his expression changed from one of annoyance to affection. “And look who I have to always pull me out of the—what did you call it?—sucking vortex, Zoë, luv.”

  She hmphed and folded her arms over her chest as Remy wondered what Zoë was referring to.

  “It’s much smaller than I imagined,” Ana said, her voice still filled with wonder. “When I heard the legends and the stories about the powerful Mother crystal, I assumed it had to be bigger—like the Jarrid crystal. So much power in such a small stone.”

  “What’s the Jarrid crystal?” asked Remy.

  “We have a piece of it here,” Quent told her. “Zoë and I stole it from the Strangers’ stronghold of Mecca. According to Ana, and to what I learned while we were there, it’s the conduit the original Cult of Atlantis members used to communicate with the Atlanteans.”

  Remy raised her brows. “Cult of Atlantis?”

  A loud ahem from behind jolted their attention to the flat screen. “Maybe if you all moved, we could see this stone too?” Lou Waxnicki said. “Hold it up to the camera, someone, so we can get a look.”

  Sage hesitated a fraction of a moment, then picked up the crystal and brought it toward the small black object mounted on one of the monitors.

  “The Cult of Atlantis,” Simon explained as she did that, “was an elite group of ungodly wealthy and powerful people who lived before the Change. They each paid a very large sum of money to be part of the secret group—Quent’s father was one of the founding members—and eventually they were the people who caused the Change. We suspect that your grandfather was one of them. I don’t know if you were aware that he was the director of the United States National Security Administration during that time, which made him very powerful and very well-connected. As well, he would have had access to confidential and dangerous data that could have contributed to creating the destructive events.”