Evolution- Awakening

by Hope Anika

  “Joe was... my friend,” Eva said. “He took care of me.”

  Wanda reached out and wrapped her other hand around Eva’s narrow, fragile arm, connecting them. “But you believe he’s dead?”

  The girl smiled, a hard curve that looked misplaced on her young face. “I know he is. So now...now, I’m alone.”

  “No,” Wanda told her. Promised. She squeezed Eva’s arm gently. “You are not alone. Not any longer. You have more people on your side than you realize.”

  Eva looked at Wylie.

  “It’s true,” he told her quietly. “Reinforcements are on the way.”

  “They shouldn’t come here.” Panic flashed in her eyes. “It isn’t safe. I shouldn’t be here. I should have left. I knew it wasn’t safe. And now they’re coming, and I can’t stop them.”

  “It is not your job to stop them,” Wylie told her. “You let me worry about that.”

  Eva only stared at him. “They want to kill me.”

  “Do you know why?”

  “No. But they killed my parents.”

  Wanda squeezed Eva’s arm again. “Do you know who they are?”

  “I call them the Believers,” Eva said. “But only in my head.” She paused. “There are others, too.”

  “Others?” Wylie echoed.

  Color rushed into the girl’s cheeks. “I don’t know why I can do what I can do. I don’t feel special. But I can...there are others like me, and I feel connected to them. It’s like we’re tied together. I can feel their emotions—especially when something bad is happening—and we...we can communicate. Sometimes.”

  Wanda stared at her. “Communicate?”

  “In my head, I can talk to them. Sometimes they talk to me.”

  “What do you talk to them about?” she asked curiously.

  “Nothing. I just listen, mostly.”

  “Are you afraid of them?” Wylie asked softly.

  The girl’s eyes moved to him. “Sometimes. Or—some of them, I should say. There’s one who’s a jerk. I don’t like him.”

  Wylie watched her closely. “Do you think he might be coming, too?”

  She suddenly looked stricken. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  Wanda squeezed her arm tightly. “Stop.”

  “How many?” Wylie asked calmly.

  “I don’t know. And I don’t know what they can do, if it’s like what I can do. But we can all do something, and I can tell they’re powerful.”

  A chill moved through Wanda.

  “I don’t know what that means,” the girl continued. “I’m just...scared.”

  “One night,” Wylie told her. “Then we’ll move on.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know how to make them stop. Not any of them.”

  “We’ll get it figured out,” he told her. “For now, we sit tight, and wait. I’d imagine Ash and Spock are on their way. It won’t be long.”

  “You shouldn’t call him that,” Wanda admonished. She realized her hand was still curved over his arm and released him, blushing. “It’s rude.”

  “It’s accurate,” Wylie said. “Trust me, the man can take it.”

  He stood and gathered their empty plates and tossed them into the garbage.

  “You have to tell them not to come,” Eva said again, looking worried. “It isn’t safe.”

  “They’re coming,” Wylie said. He reached for the freezer door and swung it open. Then he froze.

  “Fuck,” he snarled, and Wanda’s heart suddenly lurched into overdrive.

  “What’s wro—”

  He slammed into her. He grabbed Eva and lifted Wanda out of her chair and they all tumbled down to the hard wooden floor. He spread himself over them and then—

  Boom.

  *****

  “Murdered,” Ash said.

  It was the first word she’d uttered in the last hour and a half. Ruslan’s hands tightened on the Impala’s steering wheel as he peered into the thickening rain. Lightening flashed, illuminating the interior, turning her hair moon-bright; outside the Impala, the wind screamed, and the rain fell sideways in torrential sheets.

  The closer to Red Lake they got, the worst the storm turned.

  “I considered the possibility,” Ruslan told her. “Charlie was not a man to seek assistance; that he had done so indicated something amiss. But I found no evidence his death was anything other than a tragic, unnecessary accident. And you made no mention of foul play; you clearly believed Charlie’s death to be accidental.”

  “Yes,” she said softly.

  Ruslan glanced at her. She stared into the storm, her profile kissed by the electric blue glow of the Impala’s interior lighting. The memory of pressing his mouth against the delicate shell of her ear burned brightly within him. Touched her.

  He wanted to do it again. “I am sorry, Ashling.”

  She turned and looked at him. Her eyes glittered like angry jewels. “Anything else you’d like to disclose?”

  He looked back out at the highway, where the rain pounded the faint yellow line that separated the lanes like small stones. “I suspected Charlie might be involved in something, but did not know what. ”

  “You’re an asshole,” she said. “Just in case you didn’t know.”

  He shot her a narrow look. “I do not operate on the basis of speculation.”

  “I couldn’t figure out why you were hanging around.” She shook her head. “I can’t even pay you. But now I get it.”

  Ruslan was certain she did not ‘get it.’

  “You think he was murdered,” she continued grimly. “You’ve always thought that. And you want answers.”

  “I was not certain Charlie was murdered until Shirley confirmed it,” he clarified.

  “But you suspected, and you said nothing.”

  “To do so without evidence would have only upset you.”

  “Asshole,” she repeated.

  For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, “I could not walk away.”

  Ash stared out into the rain. “I thought she was my friend. I thought you and I were on the same side. And I had no idea Charlie was a spy. Some PI I am. Son of a bitch.”

  “We are on the same side.”

  “How is all of this craziness connected? Charlie and Joe and Eva. The Primaries. The Exiles. You. Kline. Grant and Masters and Golden Boy. Even Ellery St. James has a place in this. And Jace! That was not coincidence. That was manufactured. Somehow. But why?” She turned and looked at him. “Do you understand any of it? Would you even tell me if you did?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  She blinked up at him, her eyes unreadable. “You must think I’m an idiot.”

  “I think you are extraordinary.”

  “Don’t,” she said.

  “Don’t what?”

  She glared at him. “Damn you.”

  Ruslan’s hands flexed on the steering wheel. He reminded her, “I am not your enemy.”

  She said nothing for a long moment. Then she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “What if we’re too late? What if Wylie and Wanda—”

  “No,” he said. “That is wasted energy. There is another SIG Sauer in the glove compartment. Please get it out and make sure it is loaded.”

  Ash shot him a dark look, but she opened the glove box and retrieved the gun, checking its clip and chamber, engaging the safety. “How many do you have with you?”

  “That is one of twelve.”

  She blinked at him.

  “Kline called it war,” he told her. “I thought it prudent to be prepared.”

  “Prudent,” she echoed. “Awesome. Turn left up here.”

  The rain thickened and grew heavier, an unruly roar as it pounded the roof of the Impala. Ruslan obediently turned left, and then right onto the gravel road she turned him toward a few minutes later.

  “The driveway is a narrow dirt road off to the left,” she said. “The cabin sits atop a small mesa. The road up is steep and rutted. The rain wil
l make it impassable. We’ll have to hike up.”

  It was not an inviting notion, but the Impala was not designed to go four-wheeling in the rain.

  “We should have brought my Jeep,” Ash muttered. “Stupid.”

  He pulled onto the narrow dirt road, which was slick and carved by tiny rivers of water. He drove up as far as he dared and parked.

  Ash shivered. She wore only her t-shirt and jeans. Ruslan reached into the back seat and grabbed his hooded sweatshirt. He thrust it at her. “Here.”

  She blinked at it. “What’s this?”

  “Put it on. It will keep you warm and dry.”

  She didn’t argue. She just pulled the sweatshirt on and stared at him from within the deep, dark hollow of the hood. The sight of her wrapped in his shirt pleased him inordinately.

  That sense of possession again.

  “Be careful,” he told her. He wanted to order that she remain behind with the Impala, but knew that was a fool’s errand.

  Instead, he handed her a narrow black flashlight. It was not yet night, but the storm was dark around them.

  “Thanks,” she said, and put it into the pocket of the sweatshirt. She reached for the door handle. “I know this land, so you follow me. We stick to the right side of the road, and hike the switchbacks. When it flattens out, the cabin will be straight ahead.”

  Ruslan did not want to follow her; it went against his every instinct to climb from the Impala and allow her to lead him up the dark road, her body hunched against the driving rain. But he crushed the protest of the thing inside him and stayed close behind her.

  The rain made it impossible to speak. They climbed carefully in the dark, water streaming past their feet in growing rivers. They were halfway up when the land suddenly shifted beneath them, and beyond the low, steady roar of the rain, a giant BOOM sounded. Ash fell back against him, and Ruslan took them both to the ground, his body hunched over hers.

  The ground shook; debris pelted them. Rain was a hammer against his back.

  Ash’s mouth pressed unexpectedly against his ear, and a flare of heat fired through his veins. Her voice was rough. Frightened. “What was that?”

  Ruslan didn’t think twice; he wrapped his arms around her. Tight.

  “That,” he said, “was a bomb.”

  CHAPTER

  -19-

  Wylie struggled to climb from the darkness. His ears were ringing. His head hurt like hell. And something was burning.

  “Wylie,” Wanda said into his ear, and he turned toward the sound until his face brushed hers. Silky hair enveloped him.

  “Are you okay?” she asked him urgently.

  “I’ll survive,” he said thickly.

  I think.

  There were boards on top of him. Chunks of concrete. Pieces of furniture and a broken picture frame. And the cabin—what was left of it—was on fire around them.

  “Shit,” he said, pushing himself up. Wanda stood and then Eva appeared above him, looking anxious and afraid. She was holding his hand tightly, and as he got to his feet, a powerful bolt of fire and heat arced through him.

  The pain in his head eased, and the ringing in his ears faded. His skin prickled with painful intensity.

  “No,” she said when he tried to pull away. “Wait.”

  And then for one brief, terrifying moment, he felt his blood boil.

  “Okay,” she whispered and released him. Her cheeks were covered in soot, her eyes too big. “I’m done.”

  Wylie’s entire being hummed with a low-watt, unwavering buzz. His skin felt oddly sensitized.

  “Wylie,” Wanda said, and suddenly she was cupping his face and peering at him in worry. “Are you okay?”

  He was fine. He shouldn’t have been fine; he’d taken the brunt of that explosion.

  It had leveled the cabin.

  But he felt...kind of good, actually.

  Hungry.

  “She healed me,” he said. His cells seemed to shiver in response. “The kid healed me.”

  “Yes,” Wanda said. “We need to go.”

  The urgency in her voice sliced through his wonder and fear. He picked Eva up, and the girl wrapped her arms tight around his neck. She was tiny and delicate, like a small bird, a jarring contrast to the incredible power of her, which still tingled in Wylie’s veins. She sagged in his hold, and he remembered her four-hour nap after she’d healed Wanda.

  Shit.

  “We’re going to head for the rappel rope,” he said and took Wanda’s hand. “Stay low.”

  She didn’t argue, her hand tight around his. They ducked through the smoke and the steam, the rain pelting them in a cold, unwavering deluge. Debris littered their path, chunks of wood and stone and exposed piping. Wylie wound around and through the remnants, his arm tight around Eva, his hand clamped around Wanda’s. The rain made it impossible to hear anything, but it was still faintly light, and he looked around, seeking shapes or movement. He saw nothing.

  They made their way away from the burning cabin, and ducked behind one of the large juniper trees. The path from the juniper to the line of pines that hid the trail which lead down to the rappel anchors wasn’t far. Just across a small field. And once they got to the anchors, he could send Eva and Wanda repelling down the side of the mesa, toward the old Chevy he’d parked there right after they’d arrived. Charlie’s old rig, which stood out a hell of a lot less than the SUV they’d arrived in.

  It was the only way. Wylie could feel eyes; someone was out there, waiting. No way were they climbing into the SUV and getting back down the mesa using the driveway.

  Not happening.

  “They’re here,” Eva muttered into his neck and her arms tightened around him.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We’re almost there.”

  But even as he told her that, he saw them. Men in black who descended like a wave of locusts, ten, twenty, more, who emerged from the pounding rain to surround them like bullies in an alley.

  They halted. Thunder rolled and the wind howled and the storm seemed to seethe around them.

  “Put me down,” Eva said. Wylie’s arm tightened. He looked at the men who surrounded them and said, “No.”

  “Please.” She squeezed him. “Trust me.”

  He didn’t understand what that meant. She felt so frail in his arms, so breakable.

  “Wylie,” she said, and it was no longer a request.

  It was an order.

  The difference stiffened his spine. “Damn it, Eva—”

  “Do it,” Wanda said, her hand tightening around his. “Trust her.”

  Wylie didn’t want to. Setting Eva down alone among the men who filled the small field felt tantamount to killing her.

  “Trust me,” she said again, staring at him. Soaking wet and pale; bruises colored the skin under her eyes. But those eyes were suddenly orange fire.

  “Goddamn it,” Wylie said. He lowered her carefully to the ground and released her, even though every cell in his being rebelled. He didn’t step away from her, though. He couldn’t.

  “Back away from her,” ordered the man in black who was closest to them. “And you may yet survive this day.”

  “Burn in hell, miscreant,” Wanda retorted, and the heat that unexpectedly slashed through Wylie almost made him smile.

  Almost.

  “Stay right here,” Eva told them. “And don’t move.”

  The determination and fear and exhaustion Wylie saw in her fiery gaze made him reach for her, but she stepped back with a sharp shake of her head.

  “No,” she said, and her eyes shimmered, unnaturally bright.

  “What are you going to do?” he demanded

  “Just stay here.” Eva turned and looked at the man in black. “You’re a liar.”

  The man watched her as though she were a serpent. “And you’re a monster.”

  Eva stepped toward him, and two dozen weapons instantly took aim at them. Wylie’s fight-or-flight instinct roared.

  “You’re the only monster her
e,” Eva said. Lightening suddenly sheared the sky above her, and thunder boomed so violently, Wylie felt its echo in his bones. “I warned you. You should have listened.”

  Alarm speared through him.

  “Eva,” he said.

  “Your existence is an affront to God.” The man lifted his weapon, something big and black that would blow very effective holes through all of them. “I’m going to enjoy sending you back to the hell you came from.”

  Wanda took a step, but Wylie dragged her back against him with an unbending arm around her waist, and said, “No. She told us to stay here.”

  Eva dropped to her knees and laid her hands against the ground.

  “You make it hard to be sorry,” she said.

  The man stared at her, unmoving. Her eyes glowed.

  “Eva.” Wanda fought Wylie’s arm, but he didn’t let go.

  The girl looked back at them, and the power shimmering in her gaze hurt to behold. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t,” Wylie told her. He didn’t know what she was going to do, but he knew it wouldn’t be good.

  “Please don’t move,” she replied.

  The man in black gave a sudden, harsh cry. His weapon dropped to the ground. Ropes of black crawled up his face, dark veins that spread out like webbed fingers, and his mouth opened in a soundless scream. His eyes began to bleed. The skin on his face shriveled and he seemed to deflate, as if everything within him had liquefied and leaked out. He sank slowly to the ground and didn’t move.

  One by one, the rest followed. Veins of black unfurling like roots, eyes dripping blood. Withering in shrunken, hollow husks. Silent cries, as if it was too horrible to bear sound.

  Wylie stood frozen, his arm tight around Wanda as the men fell; adrenaline surged through him, but he couldn’t move. They watched, silent and unmoving as the storm raged and the men died, until nothing but a black-veined wreath of death surrounded them.

  Eva pulled her hands from the mud.

  “That’s all of them,” she said.

  And then she began to cry.

  *****

  “A bomb!” Ash cried and wrenched against Ruslan’s tight hold. “Let me go!”

  But he didn’t, and he was stronger than any man had a right to be.

  “You will not go running into a situation we do not yet understand,” he said into her ear, his breath hot. The arms around her were like iron bands; the wall of him against her back, where his heart pounded against her like a wild drum, might as well have been carved from stone. “We will assess what is happening, and then we will determine a course of action. We will do this together, Ashling.”