by Jena Leigh
It was over.
“What was in that stuff you shot her with?” she asked.
He turned the gun over in his hands. “Ketamine mixture. It’s the same tranquilizers the Agency uses to incapacitate telekinetic Variants. She’s going to have a bitch of a headache when she wakes up.”
Kenzie eyed the gun. “And where the crap did you find something like that?”
“Grayson’s desk,” he said with a shrug.
“Is that why we’re here?”
“What?”
“Is that why you chose to jump to New York?”
He paused to take in the disaster area that was his bedroom in the cabin and shrugged.
“Yeah, I guess,” he said. Declan looked back to Alex. “I just knew we needed to isolate her. This seemed like a better idea than jumping to Antarctica or the Mojave. Plus I remembered seeing the tranq gun back when I, uh, borrowed Grayson’s Glock. Thought we might need it. Guess I was right.”
“So what now?” she asked. “Hospital? Back home?”
“A hospital’s not going to be able to help her,” he said. “Or worse, they’ll try and wake her up. We need to keep her sedated. If she comes to before those abilities are out of her system…”
There was a scary thought.
Declan stared at Alex and shook his head slowly. “There’s no way to hide what just happened from the Agency.”
The cabin fell oddly silent.
“What did happen?” she asked.
Another shrug. “Guess we’ll have to ask her when she wakes up. But I think it’s safe to assume Masterson had something to do with it.”
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.
He frowned. “What? That Alex was right about what… about who she thought she saw in the woods?”
Kenzie nodded.
Her brother shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
She stared down at where Alex lay, unconscious on the floor.
Maybe.
Maybe this was what Masterson tried to do before, in the woods, only Alex managed to get away from him before he could finish the job.
Her thoughts circled back around to the damage Alex had inflicted on the girls bathroom.
She winced. “You think the Agency will try to use this as an excuse to take her?”
Declan didn’t answer.
Not that he needed to. The expression on his face said it all.
“We should get her back to Bay View,” she whispered. “Grayson will know what to do.”
With a slow nod, Declan held out one hand to Kenzie and took Alex’s lifeless hand in the other. They jumped.
— 12 —
When Alex and Connor began dating, there’d been this party. One of those my-parents-are-out-of-town, my-brother-rented-a-keg, let’s-party-like-it’s-1999 sort of parties.
You know the type.
Anyway.
Alex, eager to please, let Connor talk her into trying alcohol for the first time.
It wasn’t really the first time she’d had alcohol. She’d tried wine before.
But a few sips of Aunt Cil’s merlot after dinner was a far cry from three Smirnoff Ices and two shots of Aristocrat vodka on a mostly-empty stomach.
The aftermath was brutal.
By comparison, that self-inflicted misery was nothing compared to the post-tranquilizer hangover Alex woke up to at one twenty-seven A.M. on Sunday morning.
For the next two hours, Alex lay curled up on the bathroom floor of the Grayson family’s Bay View home, alternately praying to the Porcelain God and wishing she could just pass out again so that the pounding in her skull would cease.
Cil dabbed Alex’s forehead with a wet washcloth.
The cool cloth felt fantastic. Alex told her so.
Her aunt frowned. “Can you make it back to the bed?”
Sprawled out on the marble floor, Alex shook her head, then winced at the ensuing spike of pain that radiated up from the back of her neck.
“Floor’s fine,” Alex slurred, cradling her right arm beneath her aching head. Her voice was raspy. “Bed’s too far.”
Kenzie sighed from where she sat, perched on top of the bathroom counter, clad in brightly patterned pajama pants and a black tank top. The redhead and Alex’s aunt were in the room when Alex woke up, and neither had left her side since.
“I could get Nate or Declan in here to carry her back to bed,” suggested Kenzie. “Declan did this to her. Least he could do is help out with the aftermath.”
Alex shook her head again, then bit back a curse. “Ow. No. Don’t want—” She swallowed. “—anyone to see me like this.”
Especially not Kenzie’s older brothers.
“Floor’s fine,” she said again.
Her aunt leaned back against the side of the garden tub, shifted the position of her injured leg and let out a long breath. “I’m going to kill him.”
Declan?
“I’ve killed him once before. And now I’m going to do it again.”
Ah. Masterson.
“Only this time I’ll do it right. I’ll tranq him, I’ll shoot him, I’ll behead him and then I’ll freeze him.”
Kenzie raised an eyebrow. “Miss Cross, remind me never to get on your bad side. You’re kind of terrifying when you’re angry.”
Alex wanted to laugh, but wasn’t sure it was worth the headache.
“I’m so sorry, Lee-Lee.” Cil carefully ran a hand over Alex’s head, smoothing down her hair. “This is all my fault.”
Alex reached out to take Cil’s hand, then pulled back at the last moment. “Not… your fault,” she managed. “It’s mine. Should have trained. Could have fought him… or at least run away.”
Masterson’s powers were officially out of her system, but Alex couldn’t help but wonder how much of this hangover had to do with the tranquilizers, and how much of it had to do with the abilities-overload.
The last time her head hurt this bad, it had been a result of absorbing Kenzie’s telepathic ability for the first time.
A soft knock echoed through the wooden door.
“It’s Brian,” said a small voice. “Can I come in?”
Kenzie looked to Alex.
“Sure.” Alex closed her eyes. “Let him in.”
She listened as the youngest member of the Grayson clan quietly made his way into the room.
Something scraped across the bathroom counter. She opened her eyes again.
The ten-year-old had placed a tray of items beside the sink. On it lay a sleeve of saltine crackers, a bottle of some sort of glacier blue sport drink, a darkly tinted bottle of medicine, and a glass tumbler filled with ice chips.
“Ice,” Alex rasped, thinking of how good the frozen chips would feel against the ragged remains of her throat. “Brian, you’re my hero.”
The boy’s expression lit up with his signature thousand-watt smile.
Cil reached for the glass and offered it to Alex. Fighting her way into a seated position, she accepted.
You’d think that with four people occupying one bathroom they’d be a little short on room.
You’d be wrong.
The bathroom had a large walk-in shower, a four-person sauna and a massive garden tub, with a long counter containing his and hers sinks that stretched a good seven feet before curving at the end and transforming into a large vanity.
Even though their new beach-front home had fewer rooms than the cabin they’d left behind in New York, it was still a magnificent seven thousand square-foot estate.
At Casa de Grayson everything was sprawling and high-end, with the sort of finishings that Alex wasn’t sure she could even identify, much less put a price on.
Not that retching into a designer toilet made getting sick any less disgusting.
Kenzie informed her earlier that this guest suite was technically Aiden’s (since he’d made arrangements to live with the Grayson clan until he’d once again saved up enough money to afford another place of his own), but that he’d been kicked out and told to bunk
with Nate in the pool house until Alex recovered.
When Alex begged the redhead to apologize to her cousin on Alex’s behalf, Kenzie made a joke about Aiden being just as comfortable sleeping in the pool as in the pool house, and assured her that he really didn’t mind.
Brian hopped up to sit beside Kenzie on the counter. “Miss Cross?” he said. “My dad wanted to talk to you when you get a moment. I think he finally heard back from the Director. He’s in his office.”
Cil carefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind Alex’s ear. “Will you be alright, love?”
Alex nodded.
Her aunt carefully rose to leave, cane in hand, then paused. “Where exactly is his office?”
“Downstairs, through the foyer, past the game room and on your left,” said Brian.
“Of course it is.” Cil offered up a sardonic smile. As she headed out the door, she threw over her shoulder, “Lucky I have an excellent sense of direction. This place is bigger than the hometown I grew up in.”
Cil disappeared around the corner.
“Missed you, Alex,” said Brian. His smile faltered. “I’m really sorry I didn’t see this coming.”
As John Grayson’s only biological son, Brian had inherited his father’s gift of prophecy. In the short time Alex had known the boy, she’d gotten the feeling that—despite his age—Brian’s abilities already surpassed those of his father.
It wasn’t all the two Grayson’s had in common, either. Looking at him now, Alex was struck once again by just how much the boy resembled his dad.
“Not your fault.” Alex forced a smile for his benefit.
Brian nudged his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. “I know. Still feel bad, though.”
Alex popped another ice chip in her mouth and stared curiously at the tiny bottle on the tray.
The boy followed her gaze. “It’s an antiemetic.”
“A what-now?” asked Kenzie.
“Stuff to stop the barfing,” he translated.
“Oh. Right.” Kenzie ruffled his mousy brown hair. “What are you doing up, Brain? It’s the middle of the night. You should be asleep.”
Alex smiled at the nickname. “Brain” fit Brian to a T. At ten, Brian had already forgotten more about science, math and literature than Alex could hope to learn in a lifetime. He soaked up information like a sponge, and yet, he was still very much a kid. It was a fascinating—and endearing—combination.
He shrugged his slight shoulders. “Everyone else is awake. Why not me, too?”
“Everyone’s up?” Alex asked. “Why?”
Brian seemed bemused by the question. “Uh. Cause Masterson’s back? And you’re sick,” he said. “I mean… duh.”
Kenzie gave a small laugh. “Yeah, Alex,” she said. “Duh.”
“I think they’re all waiting to see how you feel, now that you’re conscious again,” he said.
Alex felt sheepish. She set the glass of ice aside and laid back down on the cold marble floor.
“Tell them all to go to bed,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”
Her eyes drifted shut. It was growing more and more difficult to keep them open. It was also starting to look as though she’d be spending the rest of the night there on the floor.
“Good luck convincing them of that,” said Brian. “Nate and Aiden have been conspiring in the kitchen all night, Dad’s been on the phone for ages and hasn’t left his office since yesterday afternoon, and I think Declan fell asleep standing up in the hallway outside the guest room.”
“Declan’s in the hall?” Alex winced.
After everything that had happened with Connor on Friday, a concerned Declan was the last thing she’d expected. Then again, maybe it was just his turn for guard duty.
“Is he, really?” Kenzie slid off the counter. “Good. He can get his narcoleptic butt in here and help me carry Alex back to bed, then.”
Alex’s eyes shot open. “No! It’s fine. I’m fine. I can manage it on my own.”
To prove her point, Alex attempted to drag herself to her feet—and promptly fell over the side of the jacuzzi tub instead. Alex grimaced as she struggled back into a seated position at the center of the cavernous bowl.
“I’m good!” She breathed. “I swear I’m good.”
“Would you stop?” Kenzie took her by the shoulders as though she fully expected Alex to try again.
She needn’t have worried. That glorious stumble had used up the last of her energy.
Alex noticed, with some bit of distraction, that Kenzie was being exceedingly careful to keep her fingertips from moving past the edges of Alex’s t-shirt.
“Geez, Lex,” Kenzie sighed. “And I thought Declan was stubborn. No more moving! You’re just going to hurt yourself. Bri, go wake up Decks and get him in here.”
As Brian left to retrieve Declan, Kenzie reached for the discarded washcloth and began dabbing Alex’s forehead and cheeks. “You’re going to let us help you,” she said. “You hear me?”
No longer in any shape to argue, Alex nodded, resigned.
Kenzie snatched up Alex’s lost hair tie. “Here.” She gestured for Alex to turn her head to the side, then pulled the mass of wayward locks out of Alex’s face and back into a bun. “Better?”
“Much,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Huh,” said a deep voice from the doorway.
Alex looked up.
“You really did fall in the tub.” Declan stood just inside the bathroom, slightly disheveled and wearing a disinterested frown. “Thought Brian made that part up.”
Alex really wanted to roll her eyes at that statement, but simply didn’t have the strength. She sighed instead. “Good morning to you, too, Declan.”
He made his way to the edge of the tub. “Can you stand?”
“You’re going to have to pick her up, Declan,” said Kenzie. “I don’t want her falling again.”
With a snort of amusement, Declan knelt beside the tub. “Yes, mother.”
Declan’s eyes raked over Alex’s bare skin.
Earlier, Aunt Cil had helped her into a t-shirt and pajama shorts, leaving Alex feeling cooler, but decidedly more vulnerable.
He sat back on his haunches. “Brian can you run and find a blanket?”
“It’s fine,” said Alex.
Declan’s frown deepened. “What?”
Alex leaned her head back against the side of the tub, exhaustion causing her vision to blur at the edges. Her eyes drifted closed of their own accord.
“Blanket?” asked Brian.
“Check the hall closet.”
“I said it’s fine,” Alex managed.
“You’re not thinking clea—”
“It’s fine,” she repeated. Alex slit her eyes open. “I’ve decided to give Masterson what he wants.”
The thought of it all happening again—of the others not being around to incapacitate her before she hurt someone…
Her chest tightened. “You were right, Decks. I can’t just hide from this. It’s time that I start training. Really training.” Alex’s eyes closed once more. “Jumping is the easiest for me to control. Makes sense to start with that one.”
Silence.
Despite the importance of her declaration, Alex could feel herself drifting, sliding slowly toward unconsciousness. The moment seemed to stretch, time dilating as she inched ever closer toward the sleep her body craved.
…and then Declan’s warm arms slid beneath Alex’s shoulders and the crook of her knees, and she was being raised slowly into the air, her head cradled against his shoulder.
Alex sighed as the transfer began, the tingle of electricity cascading through her in every place their skin made contact.
Declan laid her carefully on the bed. Alex shivered as their physical contact was broken and Declan’s warmth was replaced with the cool chill of cotton sheets.
Darkness.
Soft voices.
Alex drifted.
A door opened and closed. Alex’s eyes blinked open.
“Please, don’t…” she heard herself saying. “Don’t leave.”
A warm hand covered hers, bringing a familiar current with it.
“Stay?” she managed.
“Couldn’t get rid of me if you tried, princess.”
* * *
“I hate this. All the waiting…” Nathaniel paced the length of the kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I can take another three weeks of this, Aiden. I’m this close to coming clean to her about all of it. And I do mean all of it.”
Aiden sighed. He leaned forward in his chair and gazed out into the hallway, making sure the coast was still clear before attempting a reply.
“Would you quit your bitching and sit down?” he said finally. “You know what’s on the line here better than anyone. You’ll be able to keep your mouth shut.”
Nathaniel shook his head slowly.
“I know you will, because I know you, Nate. You care too much. You won’t put everything at risk—you won’t put them at risk—when we’re this close to the end.” Aiden leaned back in his chair, folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.
A late night rain fell against the picture window behind him, a gentle wind directing it steadily against the pane. As always, the presence of so much water was soothing.
Without looking, Aiden could sense the path of each and every drop snaking its way down the glass. He fought back an urge to manipulate the different streams.
Meanwhile, his companion continued to pace the length of the kitchen.
“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor if you keep it up.” Aiden closed his eyes. “Sleep’s the better option. Alex won’t be up and around again until later, the Agency won’t make a move at four in the morning when they’re meeting with Grayson at nine, and if you keep marching back and forth in front of me like that, I swear to God, I’m gonna lose it.”
Aiden was starting to wonder if Nate would even survive the next few weeks until the event. At the rate things were progressing, he was going to suffer a nervous breakdown before it even started.
Nate’s cell rang and he pulled it from his pocket.
“Who keeps calling you?” asked Aiden.
“Who do you think?” Nate hit the button that would ignore the call, then shoved the burner phone back into his jeans.
