Night Resurrected Page 26

  She must have been looking at someone she loved. And who loved her in return.

  The bathroom door opened and Remy put the device down with a clatter. Turning, guilt written all over her face, she faced Wyatt.

  His eyes went from her to the table and back again, but he said nothing as he walked over to one of the dressers and yanked open a drawer. He was, as she’d feared, wearing nothing but a towel. Rivulets of water ran down over his arms and neck, dripping from too-long hair plastered to his skin, and she couldn’t help but admire his long, lean back and the slide of muscle there as he dug through the drawer.

  But the tension was different now. Her awareness of him was tempered by sorrow and sympathy, and the reality of what he’d lost. A feeling of inadequacy. And discomfort at being caught snooping.

  He disappeared into the bathroom again, then came out moments later wearing a T-shirt that clung to his damp skin and a pair of loose, drawstring shorts. He’d shaved, but his face was still tight and drawn.

  “Now that you’ve assuaged your curiosity,” he said, his voice cool and remote. “I suppose I owe you a little more of an explanation.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” she replied automatically, forcing herself to use the same emotionless tone.

  His mouth quirked without humor. “Another bad movie line. Yet, there are some things you should know . . . about me, and the others. Before we meet downstairs. In”—he glanced at his watch—“forty-five minutes.”

  “Fine.”

  “Have a seat,” he said, and sat down in a chair as far away from her as possible.

  She sat on the edge of the bed and leveled a stare at him.

  “Quent, Elliott, and I went on a hiking and caving trip in the mountains of Sedona, Arizona. Fence and another guy named Lenny were our guides. While we were in there, all hell broke loose—there were earthquakes, storms, all kinds of events. Something happened and we were knocked unconscious. When we woke up, we found Simon there, too, and we all came out of the cave.” He focused his gaze on her, steady and intent. “It was fifty years later.”

  Remy blinked and tried to assimilate his words. “Fifty or fifteen?” she said, knowing what she’d heard, but knowing it was impossible. Yet, his expression was one of calm certainty.

  “Fifty. A half a century.”

  “So you’re telling me . . . you . . . what . . . ?” She worked to grasp the concept, to wrap her mind around his words. She shook her head. Crazy. “How?”

  “We don’t know. Time-traveled, maybe. Frozen in time, maybe. We don’t know. All we know is, one minute it was June of 2010, and then when we woke up or came to, it was 2060. And the world . . . was . . .” His voice cracked.

  Gone.

  She looked at him for a long moment, and he met her eyes unflinchingly. Truth shone there. “Really?” she said finally in a low voice.

  He nodded. “Really.”

  “So . . . you’re . . . really old.” Remy wasn’t certain why that was the first thing that came out of her mouth. She wasn’t certain if she really believed him. But . . . hell, if there were zombies, and immortal beings, and crystals that could kill merely by their presence . . . she supposed time travel wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.

  Before he could respond to her silly, thoughtless statement, she spoke again. “I can’t imagine how terrible that must have been. For you.” Her attention slipped over to the bedside table and its device with the photo, then back again. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.”

  He nodded, and she saw his throat work as he forced himself to swallow. “I . . . kissed my wife and children goodbye one day and got on a plane. The next thing I knew, it was fifty years later . . . and they were gone. Everything was gone. Every fucking thing.”

  Remy felt sick. “Wyatt.” Her eyes stung and a horrible, empty ache swept over her. How could anyone handle that? How could anyone be normal, sane . . . happy . . . after that? “My God. I’m so sorry.”

  “If I hadn’t gotten on that plane . . . if I hadn’t left them . . .”

  He didn’t seem to be talking to her any longer . . . the words tumbled out quietly, taut with grief and guilt and desolation. She didn’t remember getting up, getting out of her chair. But the next thing she knew, she was sliding her arms around his shoulders, sliding onto his lap, pulling him into her. Close to her.

  She felt a tremor ripple over his wide shoulders, the stiffness in his arms and neck, the ragged breaths. His hair pressed wet against her cheek, dripping and seeping into the front of her shirt, sleek and cold under her hands. But his body melted against her, warm and solid, and for a moment . . . just a moment . . . she closed her eyes. Breathed in, smelled him, felt that little fluttering warmth in her belly. Ah, Wyatt.

  He moved, gently taking her arms from around him, extricating himself. “I . . . Remy, there’s more. And I can’t . . . think . . . when you’re—when—like this.” He kept his face averted as he slipped away, standing to walk across the room.

  She watched him, settling into the chair he’d vacated, waiting. Patient, horrified and devastated.

  “It’s been a year,” he said, his voice stronger now. “Since we came out of that cave. One of the guys—Lenny—died shortly after. But the rest of us, the five of us . . . we’ve changed.” He glanced at her now, sort of sidewise, as if to gauge her reaction. “We can do . . . things. Each of us has an ability we didn’t have before. Elliott isn’t just a doctor anymore, but now he can heal with the touch of his hands—but there’s a sort of backlash when he does it. And he can sort of see what’s going on inside someone. Quent can touch something and see its past, read its history—but he gets sucked into a trancelike, coma sort of state. That’s why Zoë won’t let him touch the Mother crystal. She’s afraid it’s too powerful and he won’t come back out of it.”

  Remy was aware that her jaw had fallen open, and she closed it.

  “Simon . . . well . . .” Wyatt gave a strained chuckle, “I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself, but he can turn himself invisible. That’s how we got past Dantès, that first time we met—when you set him to guard us. Simon turned invisible and sneaked past him.”

  She wanted to shake her head, to tell him he was crazy . . . but Wyatt? He might be a jerk, he might be arrogant and commandeering and cold . . . but he wasn’t crazy.

  “Let me guess,” Remy said, somehow finding her voice. The pieces—as improbable as they were—had fallen into place. “You can walk through a fire and not burn up?”

  His eyes glinted briefly with appreciation. “Basically. I do burn . . . but then it . . . peels away. Or at least, that’s what happened last night. I didn’t know it would happen. That’s the first time . . . and I don’t really know if it would happen again. I’m not particularly eager to find out.”

  Remy looked at him, and he stared back for what seemed like a long time. “You realize how crazy this all sounds,” she finally said.

  “No shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “There’s one more thing.” When she didn’t respond, he continued. “David . . . well, he’s my son.”

  His son. “Wow.” She tilted her head, thought about that. More pieces fell into place as she remembered the moment in Cat’s room when Wyatt realized she was there. That moment when he gathered her up to him as if he’d never let her go . . . and then the shields, falling back into place once again. She tried to smile. Now it all made sense. “So that makes Cat . . . your granddaughter?”

  His expression reflected the same wonder and confusion she was feeling. “Yes.” There was even the ghost of a smile—the slightest bit of happy—playing about his lips.

  Remy laughed softly, shaking her head. “Well, she’s going to be a little disappointed to know you’re her grandfather.”

  He frowned. “What? Why?”

  “I saw the way she was checking you out. She thinks you’re hot.” Somehow, teasing him a little felt . . . right. It eased the tension, just enough.

  “Christ,” he muttered
.

  Silence fell only for a moment, then a sharp rap at the door had them both looking up. Wyatt made a sharp gesture to Remy, sending her toward the bathroom, but she frowned and shook her head.

  He glared as the knock came again, but went to the door and looked through the peephole. His shoulders relaxed and, with a rueful smile at Remy, he unbolted and unchained the door and opened it.

  “Well, Grandfather,” said Cat as she breezed in. “How wonderful to meet you.”

  Chapter 21

  Nineteen hours

  Wyatt and Remy were a half hour late to the midnight meeting with Vaughn and the others. The tardiness was due to the unexpected arrival of David and Cat and the sort of family reunion that occurred between grandfather and granddaughter.

  But when he and Remy walked into the mayor’s private office, Fence looked at Wyatt knowingly and winked. “Duu-uude.”

  Wyatt gave him a fuck-you glare and went to stand across the room where he could watch or pace, and yet be out of the line of sight. He was also, purposely, near the door.

  “Nice of you to join us,” Vaughn said. He seemed to make no effort for civility in his tones. Wyatt couldn’t really blame him, but he wasn’t in the mood to be benevolent. “I trust there were no problems that delayed you?” added the mayor. “Remy hasn’t been identified?”

  “No problems,” said the woman in question, looking around as she selected a chair. She’d been ecstatic about changing into some of the clothing he’d rescued for her, and while Wyatt, David, and Cat were talking, Remy showered and changed into her new clothes. Problem was, she’d pulled on a sleek blue tank top that made it hard to look anywhere but there. And then there was the question that popped into his mind . . . was she wearing the thong, or the lacy black panties?

  Hell.

  This was, Wyatt reminded himself, viciously rerouting his thoughts, the first time she had been in this room, meeting with the mayor and his friends. She seemed at ease, surprisingly so, and smiled when Sage reached over to squeeze her arm. The two women exchanged brief words, and then Remy looked over at Jade and nodded. The other woman patted her on the shoulder, concern lining her face.

  Wyatt leaned against the wall and folded his arms over his chest. “Well?”

  “The city council has decided it’s in the best interest of the city to turn Remington Truth over to the Strangers,” Vaughn announced.

  “The city council can go fuck itself.” Wyatt would have swept Remy up and been through the door if Simon hadn’t moved. Strong fingers closed over his forearm and the other man placed himself in Wyatt’s path.

  “Wait.”

  It was the calmness and fierce understanding in Simon’s exotic eyes that had Wyatt easing back into his place. He allowed himself a brief glance at Remy, careful not to linger too long—just enough to see that she wasn’t horrified or upset. Sage still held her hand, their fingers clasped together.

  “The council feels,” Vaughn continued as if there hadn’t been an interruption, as if he hadn’t just delivered a damned death sentence, “that there is no way to protect Envy or otherwise divert an attack by the Strangers. If they come in by helicopter, dropping explosives, we have no recourse. They have motorized vehicles as well—we have no idea what other sorts of weapons they have. We’re sitting ducks, and they’ve ensured that the evacuation process has been halted. The buildings are old, and although well-maintained, it’s clear that warlike activity can and will destroy them and cause innumerable casualties.” He looked around at them all. Dark circles swelled under his sunken eyes and the grooves in his face had grown more pronounced. “There’s simply no way to protect the people of Envy. And I am in agreement with them.”

  He looked over, his steady, calm gaze clashing with Wyatt’s. It took his last iota of control to remain quiet and still, allowing his eyes to deliver the message of Fuck you, sonofabitch. I’ll show you agreement.

  Vaughn looked away, transferring his attention to Remy. “Let me be clear: I am in agreement that there is no way to protect the city. But understand that I am not, for one minute, suggesting that we turn you over to the Strangers.”

  “Which means,” Elliott said, breaking the snapping tension, “we have to find another option.”

  “What other option? There is no other option.” Remy stood abruptly, dragging her hand out of Sage’s grip. “There’s no way to protect the city, no way to get out of it, no place to be safe. That leaves one choice: give them what they want.”

  “But it’s not really you they want, is it?” Quent pointed out, his voice clipped and formal, rising over the instant reactions of the others. The voices quieted. “They want the Mother crystal.”

  “We can’t give them the Mother crystal,” Ana exclaimed just as Remy said, “I’ve spent the last twenty years protecting that stone. My grandfather, for whatever reason, risked his life—and mine—to get and keep it. I’m sure as hell not going to just give it to them. Then what would stop them from attacking Envy anyway?”

  “What would stop them from attacking us if we gave them you?” Wyatt snarled, pushing past Simon to glare at her. “Not a goddamn thing. They’ll do what they want. They have the might, the weapons, the technology. So there’s no sense in risking—”

  “There are the tunnels,” Jade pointed out, pitching her voice loud enough to hear over the others. “They don’t know about the tunnels under the city. We can evacuate or at least hide down there—like bomb shelters. Even though there are wixy-big-ass snakes.” She shuddered and glanced at Elliott.

  “Already in progress,” Vaughn said, looking at her. His smile was faint and humorless. “We’ve already begun to evacuate through them, but we have to do it carefully and slowly. If the Strangers find that entrance, they’ll blockade it as well. So we’re being very careful. And we don’t know what information is being passed to them by Goldwyn or anyone else.”

  Wyatt felt some of his tension ease. At least someone was thinking. “The ocean?” he asked, looking at Fence and Ana.

  For once the big man’s expression was tight and sober. “Ain’t no chance there. Ana and I were there checking things out. The motherfucking Atlanteans have their crazy shield up again—anyone tries to get past it in the water’ll fry their asses.”

  “Which means,” Ana said, “they’ve got to be in communication with the Strangers and are supporting them. The shield just appeared this morning. The timing isn’t a coincidence.”

  “So we put some people safely below the ground, others in the sturdiest structures possible,” Wyatt said, his mind clicking along. Hell, he hadn’t been in a war in Iraq for nothing. “We have to have some defensive weapons of our own—Molotov cocktails at the very least. And others. We can hold them off—”

  “Listen.”

  Remy’s voice cut into the discussion, and, surprisingly, everyone quieted and looked at her. She stood in front of Vaughn’s desk, the center of attention, turning to look around the room. Hands on her hips, her glossy black hair pulled into a long, loose braid that fell over one shoulder, her startling cobalt eyes bright and steady, she spoke. “I’m the one they want. The only way to keep them from attacking Envy is to surrender myself to them. And I’ve decided that’s what I’m going to do.”

  The room surged into a cacophony of negation, but Remy held up her hand and continued to speak. “I’m not finished. First of all, it’s my choice. Second, there is no way I am going to stay hidden here, cloistered away, while the city is attacked—even if you believe there are some safe hiding places. Someone’s going to get hurt or killed, and I don’t want that on my conscience. You,” she said, whirling to spear Wyatt with fierce eyes, “of all people should understand that.”

  He closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a hard line. But that didn’t keep him from glaring back at her. Always knew she was fucking crazy.

  “And besides that,” Remy continued, “we don’t know why they want me—maybe they just want to talk—”

  “Jesus Christ,” Wyatt
exploded. “Of course they don’t just want to ‘talk’—”

  “They probably just want to know where the Mother crystal is.” Remy raised her voice to be heard over his, lashing out at him. “And killing me or even hurting me won’t get them what they want.”

  “Unless they just want to torture the information out of you,” he shouted back. “Then it might hurt a little fucking bit!”

  All at once he realized the room had gone silent, that he and Remy were nearly chest-to-chest in the middle of everyone, both heaving with anger, and everyone was looking everywhere but at them.

  He stepped back, desperately channeling calm, spinning away even as his hands trembled with anger. And fear.

  “The bottom line,” Remy said, her voice low and subdued, her cheeks flushed red, her eyes averted from Wyatt, “is that it’s my choice. And whether the rest of you support it or not, agree with it or not, it’s what I’m going to do.”

  Wyatt opened his mouth, desperately searching for something to say, but Sage stood. She quelled him with a look, then turned to Remy, putting her arm around her. “Then it’s our job to make it as safe for you as possible, you brave woman. You’ll go with guards, with an escort. In full view. You can parlay, and we’ll have your back.”

  Remy nodded, and Wyatt saw her lips move in a tremulous smile. So she wasn’t as foolishly fearless as she seemed. “Great plan. Thank you.” She turned to Vaughn. “You can tell Goldwyn to bring the message.”

  The mayor nodded gravely. “Unless some other option presents itself between now and tomorrow night. Which it’s my sincere hope it will,” he added, rubbing her on the shoulder. “Remy, I’m sorry to tell you this, too, but the mob group led by Mary Proudy is getting louder and stronger. It’s imperative that you remain anonymous and safe. My apartments are the most secure—”