Resistance (The Variant Series #2)

by Jena Leigh

  Turning to her desk chair, she could almost see Declan sitting there with his arms folded over the back of it, nudging the edge of her bare foot with his rain slick boot and telling Alex that he was worried about her.

  Desperate now, she turned toward the bay window—only to be accosted by the memory of him appearing in the gnarled limbs of the oak tree outside, grinning.

  And that was the final straw. The dam holding back the pain shattered, and Alex’s tears finally began to flow.

  Angry and aching and desperate for a location that hadn’t been tainted with memories of Declan, Alex traded her bedroom for her bathroom and slammed the adjoining door closed behind her.

  Locking both the door to her room and the door leading out into the hall, Alex turned on the shower and stepped, fully clothed, into the tub.

  What did it matter, anyway?

  Nothing mattered.

  Not anymore.

  She’d allowed herself to fall for Declan, even though she knew it to be a bad idea.

  She’d ignored the little voice inside her thoughts that warned her this would happen, eventually. The same voice that told her Declan wasn’t the sort of guy that would ever be content to settle for someone like her.

  The voice that insisted she just wasn’t enough—wasn’t sexy enough, wasn’t pretty enough, wasn’t experienced enough…

  Not for a guy like Decks.

  Alex was lacking in every area that probably mattered. And she’d been a fool to think that Declan wouldn’t see through to that reality sooner rather than later.

  Though she’d never expected it to play out like this.

  In the middle of her birthday party—and with Jessica, of all people. First Connor, now Declan. Was Alex destined to lose every guy she loved to Jessica?

  Love.

  Alex sat still beneath the scalding hot shower of droplets raining down on her from above, her dress and tights already soaked through. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she rested her forehead against the crook of her knees.

  She was in love with Declan.

  In truth, it hadn’t taken her long at all to fall for him, it was admitting to it that had taken some time. And now that she’d owned up to it—even if only to herself—it was as though a gaping chasm had taken the place of her heart.

  She didn’t feel lighter for the confession. Instead, she felt shackled by it.

  Acknowledging the emotion meant she was also forced to acknowledge the pain the events of the night had caused her.

  Watching him with Jessica earlier had been the single most painful thing Alex had experienced since the loss of her parents, years before.

  The knock she’d been waiting for sounded at the bathroom door.

  “Lexie?” Cassie’s voice carried softly over the hiss of falling water. “Lexie, open up. We need to talk.”

  Alex didn’t move or attempt a reply.

  If she ignored her for long enough, her friend would eventually go away.

  Or so she hoped.

  “C’mon, Lexie,” said Cassie. “Don’t make me pick this lock.”

  Alex sniffed. Her tears mingled with the falling water as she wiped tiredly at her face.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” Alex replied.

  “Yeah, see,” Kenzie’s voice carried through the door. “That’s where you’d be wrong. There’s a whole hell of a lot to talk about, really.”

  Alex sighed. Looks like Cassie hadn’t come alone after all.

  “For instance,” said Cassie. “There’s the fact that Jessica Huffman is probably a Variant. Which, to me, seems like quite the conversation starter.”

  Alex blinked dumbly at the shower curtain for a moment, before reaching out and turning off the tap.

  “Thought that might get your attention,” said Cassie. “Now let us in.”

  Using her borrowed TK—left over from her afternoon spent training with Nathaniel—Alex unlocked the door to the hall.

  The girls stepped inside.

  Kenzie arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t have time to strip first? Or were you just trying to find a more cost-effective way of doing laundry?”

  The joke fell flat.

  “Alex, I love you, but… the shower? Really? You look like a flippin’ teenage cliché right about now,” said Cassie, her voice wry. When Alex didn’t reply, she sighed, then softened her tone. “Are you alright?”

  Alex shrugged.

  Kenzie took a seat on the tiled floor beside the tub. “Under normal circumstances, this is the point where I’d leave you for a while in order to go murder my brother, but… Alex, I don’t think what we saw tonight was… well, was what we saw.”

  Alex furrowed her brow.

  “What Kenzie’s trying and failing to say,” said Cassie, “is that we’re pretty sure Jessica’s actually a Variant, and that she was using some sort of psychic whammy on your idiot boyfriend.”

  “Psychic… whammy?” Alex repeated.

  “Not the technical term,” Kenzie said. “In the Variant world, people like Jessica are known as pushers. They can make the people around them do whatever they want through a form of mind control. Most pushers usually end up working as politicians or salesmen—”

  “—Or as spoiled-terrors-turned-homecoming-queens who spend their free time moonlighting as boyfriend thieves,” added Cassie.

  Alex blinked dumbly up at her friends.

  Mind control?

  “So you’re saying Declan was… what? Pushed into kissing Jessica in the parking lot tonight?”

  “It’s pretty much the only thing that makes sense,” said Kenzie.

  Alex didn’t bother to hide her skepticism. “It’s not the only thing, Kenzie.”

  She frowned. “The push can be hard to resist, Alex. Especially if the pusher is determined to get their way.”

  “Hard, but not impossible?” asked Alex.

  Kenzie and Cassie exchanged a look.

  “Well,” said Kenzie, “I mean, it is possible to resist a push, but it takes an insane amount of concentration and willpower. It’s not an easy thing to overcome.”

  “But it’s still possible.” Alex fixed her gaze back on the shower curtain. “So even if you’re right, and Jessica was using some sort of special mind control ability on Declan, he could have resisted her if only he wanted to badly enough?”

  “Um,” said Kenzie. “He wouldn’t—I mean, I don’t think—”

  Alex shook her head. “Don’t, Kenzie,” she said. “Listen, it’s been a long day. We should probably just call it a night. I really don’t want to talk about what happened any more.”

  Cassie huffed. “Well, too damn bad, chica.” She sat herself down on the floor beside Kenzie. “’Cause we’re not leaving this bathroom until you’ve at least accepted the possibility that what happened at McRae’s wasn’t Declan’s fault.”

  Groaning, Alex ran her hands over her face and leaned back against the wall of the tub.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Fine, what?” prompted Cassie.

  “Fine,” said Alex. “I accept the possibility that maybe Declan didn’t kiss Jessica willingly.”

  “And?” asked Kenzie.

  Alex sighed. “And I promise to stop spazzing about it until I’ve heard Declan’s side of the story.”

  Cassie scrutinized Alex’s expression for a long moment.

  “Happy now?” asked Alex.

  “Ecstatic,” said Cassie, finally. She climbed to her feet. “Now dry yourself off and get some sleep, Lexie. We’ll sort all this out tomorrow.”

  As the girls made their way back out into the hall, Kenzie paused in the doorway. “Don’t give up on Decks just yet, Alex. My brother might be an incorrigible jackass, but he cares about you. A lot. There’s no way he would have kissed Jessica of his own free will. I’m certain of it.”

  Alex didn’t reply.

  Kenzie and Cassie were worried about the wrong thing.

  Alex had already accepted the fact that Jessica had probably pushed
Declan. Once she moved past the overwhelming surprise that Jessica (of all people) might be a Variant, it was actually a pretty reasonable explanation for what had happened…

  The push itself wasn’t what hurt.

  It was the fact that Declan hadn’t cared strongly enough for Alex to want to resist it that was killing her.

  “Goodnight, Lexie,” said Cassie from the hall.

  “Goodnight, Cass.”

  Cassie shut the door behind them and Alex was once more left alone with her thoughts.

  —25 —

  Declan wasn’t in class the next morning.

  In fact—according to Kenzie—he never even made it home the night of the party.

  Apparently, Jessica drove off from McRae’s, took Declan against his will to the nearest strip of shoreline, ordered him to sleep, and left him there.

  He woke up that morning with the rising tide swallowing his boots, dazed and confused and—also according to Kenzie—angry as hell at Jessica for what she’d done to him.

  Or so he claimed.

  When Declan finally arrived at school—two hours late and halfway into English—Alex refused to even meet his eye.

  By that point her tears had long since dried.

  She still didn’t know for sure if Declan had been acting of his own will the night before. And the heartbreaking possibility that Declan might have fought Jessica’s control over him but had chosen not to left Alex beyond furious.

  So when Declan immediately knelt down beside her desk and attempted an apology, she cut him off before he could say more than a few words.

  “I don’t care, Declan,” she whispered, trying hard to keep their conversation from being overheard by the rest of the class.

  Most of the nearby students had switched their attention from the projection of Much Ado About Nothing on the whiteboard, to the far more gossip-worthy scene unfolding at the back of the class.

  Alex kept her gaze forward. “Maybe you had a choice in what happened last night and maybe you didn’t, but right now, I really don’t care. And this sure as crap isn’t the right place for us to discuss it. So sit down, shut up, and do your job, Declan. ’Cause I don’t want to hear it.”

  Across the aisle, Terrance Wilkins smiled, bringing his knuckles to his mouth as he whispered, “Daaaammmn, girl. Tell ’im.”

  Alex rolled her eyes.

  She spent the rest of the day studiously ignoring Declan’s attempts to clear the air and made it a point never to find herself alone with him. Eventually, he accepted that she wasn’t ready to hear him out and by the end of the day he’d given up trying.

  The next day, Friday, was a repeat of the day before except that it was a half-day and their last day of classes for the school year. Summer vacation had finally arrived.

  Friday was also Aunt Cil’s long awaited opening gala at the Red Corner Gallery to unveil the collection of her most recent work.

  The evening had been moved up in part to attract a bigger, weekend crowd, and also to get it out of the way before Alex’s test with the Agency.

  Two more days.

  That’s all that was standing between Alex and the most important test of her life so far.

  But, you know… no pressure.

  Alex chewed distractedly at her thumbnail before Cassie elbowed her in the side and she was forced to drop her hand.

  “How much longer until it’s safe to leave, you think?” asked Kenzie.

  Cassie crossed her arms and leaned back against the exposed brick wall. “I don’t know, but if I have to listen to one more pearl-clutching socialite give their horrifically ignorant two cents about Cil’s artwork, I’m going to flippin’ lose it.”

  An odd collection of local artists mingled amidst Bay View’s social elite, gathering in small groups around pedestals and wall hangings, either openly admiring or quietly dismissing Cecilia Cross’s work. Soft lighting and strategically placed red spotlights lit the large room, casting strange shadows on everyone present. The “black tie optional” dress code meant nearly everyone present was dressed to the nines.

  Which was great, for the guys.

  For the girls stuck wearing heels all night? Not so much.

  “At least a little while longer. This thing’s supposed to last until eleven, and I don’t want to hurt Aunt Cil’s feelings by leaving too early.” Alex slipped her cell from her purse and checked the time.

  8:30.

  There was also another missed call from Declan. Frowning, Alex slid the phone back into the black clutch without checking her messages.

  Alex skipped out on training earlier—using the opening gala as a handy excuse—and spent the rest of her evening distracting herself by helping her aunt prepare, and by refusing to open Declan’s texts.

  Beside her, Kenzie let out a long suffering sigh. She swished the water around the bottom of her cup with a frown. “Do you think anyone would notice if I traded this water out for something more interesting?”

  Alex regarded her friend, then eyed the unmanned refreshments table on the other side of the room.

  Cassie shrugged. “While I’m pretty sure all of the adults present are currently too drunk on their own self-importance to notice you pulling a Jesus and changing your water to wine, you kind of have to ask yourself if the alcohol content in that swill is even remotely high enough to make this shindig interesting.”

  “Good point,” said Kenzie. “Probably not.”

  She downed the rest of her water and tossed the cup in a nearby bin.

  The three girls had been standing in the same corner of the gallery for the last thirty minutes, having already spent the previous forty-five admiring Cil’s artwork and mingling with the majority of the bigwigs in the coastal area’s art scene.

  The unveiling had drawn quite a crowd, and Alex’s aunt was being pulled from one circle of guests to the next, talking and answering questions about her work.

  Alex was starting to wonder if her aunt would even notice, should the girls decide to slip out a little early.

  Currently, Cil was smiling awkwardly up at a lithe woman with a hawkish nose and close cropped gray hair. The woman was waving her wine glass about in the air as she spoke, while her other arm wrapped around her waif-like waist. Her nose was tilted upward, so that she might better look down upon Cil.

  Judging from Cil’s pinched expression, Alex’s aunt would probably be just as happy to sneak away a little early, herself.

  “Oh, hey,” said Kenzie, her attention shifting to the gallery’s front entrance. “Looks like the boss made it after all.”

  Sure enough, the lanky form of John Grayson stood just inside the main doors, dashing as ever in a black suit that probably cost more than Alex’s jeep.

  “Ohh, nice threads, Mr. G,” Cassie greeted as Grayson approached their little group.

  “Very dapper,” said Alex.

  “He’s just so fancy,” added Kenzie, smiling wryly.

  “Thank you, girls. You’re all looking lovely as well.” Grayson adjusted one of his cufflinks while his eyes quickly scanned the room. “Alex, would you mind pointing me in the direction of your aunt?”

  She gestured toward the frightening waif obstructing their view of Cil.

  “Thank you,” said Grayson.

  He started off in Cil’s direction and then politely separated her from the intimidating woman and her disinterested husband.

  They worked their way discreetly toward the outskirts of the crowd, Grayson whispering something into Cil’s ear as they walked.

  A few steps from the quiet corner that appeared to be their destination, Cil came up short. For a moment, she just stood there, in the midst of the crowd, staring dumbly up at Grayson.

  “What?” Cil choked out, her strained voice carrying clearly over the quiet conversation of the gallery patrons. She then turned and fixed her gaze directly on Alex.

  Uh-oh.

  What had Grayson just told her?

  Placing a hand at the small of Cil’s back, Grayson
ushered her the last few feet toward the corner.

  “What was all that about?” asked Cassie.

  Apparently, Alex wasn’t the only one observing their strange interaction.

  In a quiet voice, Alex asked, “You don’t think Grayson found out about last night, do you?”

  She hadn’t told Aunt Cil about what had happened with Declan yet.

  Or about what Jessica might be capable of.

  Her aunt was going to hit the roof when she found out that Jessica Huffman was a potential Variant. Cil already despised the girl and her mother, Trina Huffman, who sat on the town council and often enjoyed tormenting Cil as much as her daughter enjoyed tormenting Alex.

  The revelation would only be adding fuel to the fire.

  “I doubt it,” said Kenzie. “At least, I don’t think anyone would have said anything to him yet.”

  Across the room, Cil and Grayson appeared to be having an argument. They were trying not to be obvious about it, but Alex could read the frustration and anger in the odd way her Aunt held her mouth as she listened to Grayson’s words.

  Every so often, Cil sent a worried glance toward Alex before looking quickly away.

  “Hello, Alex.”

  Alex whipped around to find Connor standing just behind her, dressed in a smart black suit with a skinny black tie, his hair slicked back and his hands in his pockets.

  In all the time she’d known him, she had never—ever—seen Connor wear a suit.

  He looked… good.

  “Connor! I—I didn’t expect to see you here,” she managed.

  He shrugged and smiled. “Wanted to support your Aunt Cil. This is a pretty big accomplishment for her. You must be proud.”

  And she was proud.

  Although, currently, she was mostly just confused as to why her ex was standing before her in a nice suit at the absolute last place on Earth she’d expected to run into him.

  “Hey, Kenzie, Cass,” he said.

  Cassie and Kenzie only stared back at him, their expressions impassive.

  Alex fixed Connor with a smile in an attempt to compensate for their sudden loss of manners. “Thanks for coming, Connor. I’m sure Aunt Cil appreciates the support.”