Night Resurrected (42 page)
“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.”
S h e
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.”
Remy shook her head, her throat tight
and dry. “I don’t remember ever hearing
him mention the Cult of Atlantis, or even
Atlantis. But I did know about the NSA.”
“Yes, it was your grandfather’s old
identification card from the NSA that
eventually led us to find you,” Sage put
in.
“But why would a group of people
cause
the Change? What was the
benefit? How could they live with
themselves after being part of such
destruction?” Something plunged in her
stomach,
sharp
and
low.
“My
grandfather . . . you said he was one of
them. He was one of the ones who
planned and caused the Change.” An
ugly nausea bubbled inside her. She’d
always suspected he’d done something
awful . . . but this was inconceivable.
“That’s why he lived such a life of
remorse afterward. And why he didn’t
want to die.”
Wyatt nodded, his face grave. “It’s
likely. Or else he had the knowledge of
what was going to happen, but wasn’t
able to stop it. Or didn’t try. We’ll never
know.”
“But we might,” Quent said, eyeing
the crystal Sage had returned to the
table. “I—”
“
No
fucking
way
are you touching
that thing,” Zoë exclaimed. “I’ll smash
the damned thing myself before I let you
place one pinky nail on it.” Her dark,
almond-shaped eyes snapped with
ferocity . . . and fear.
“You can’t destroy it,” Ana said. “I
mean, it’s possible . . . but it’s the
Mother crystal, the source of life for the
Atlanteans and the Strangers. If it’s
destroyed, they’ll all die.”
There was a shocked, taut silence.
Then Wyatt said, “Are you certain? If the
crystal is destroyed, they all die? Do you
mean we have here the power to destroy
all of the Strangers and the Atlanteans—
at one time?” His voice was low and
careful, filled with tension.
“Lacey told me the same thing,”
Remy said. “If the crystal dies, everyone
dies.”
They stared at the small orange
crystal.
T
wenty-four hours
They’d left the crystal safely in the
computer room with Sage, George,
David, and Cat—and Dantès—while
everyone else scattered to see to other
business and get any updates on the
situation in the city at large. Meanwhile,
the Waxnickis were working remotely to
see if they could hack into the Strangers’
communications system, which was just
as secure as their own and, fortunately,
less complicated. If they could learn
what the Strangers had planned for
retaliation, it would be easier to
circumvent if necessary.
Wyatt was taking Remy to find
something to eat when they ran into
Simon, Elliott, and Jade.
“They’ve blocked the gates. The
evacuees can’t get through.” Simon’s
features were tight and his eyes weary.
“How?” Elliott asked, sliding a
comforting arm around Jade as he
exchanged glances with Wyatt.
“Four Humvees. Sitting out there
about a thousand feet beyond the gates.
Chavalas
opened fire on a family—with
children
—as they came out, carrying
their belongings.”
“They fired at children?” Rage
punched through him and Wyatt curled
his fingers tightly. “Tell me no one was
hurt.”
“Thank God, no,” Simon replied.
“But the threat is clear, and so they’ve
stopped the stream of people leaving.
Now people have to stay. And now the
situation is even worse.” He passed a
hand over his face and glanced at Elliott.
“Tell him.”
“Someone
has
revealed
that
Remington Truth is a woman, and given
a basic description of her. That means
the likes of Susan Proudy and her gang
are getting even more riled up. Louder,
more violent.”
“Who would have done that?” Wyatt
said, feeling Remy tense next to him.
“Ian Marck.”
That rage bubbled up
sharply again.
“Ian wouldn’t do that.”
Why the hell was Remy always
defending the bastard?
“Marck’s still in custody,” Simon
said with a thin smile. “Vaughn’s got
him under house arrest. He hasn’t had
communication with anyone.”
“How the hell did they find out, then?
Besides us, the only other person who
knew was Lacey and her—”
He stopped and looked down at
Remy just as she said, “Goldwyn. Her
partner.”
“Had to be him.”
“And he knows what I look like,” she
said, furtively glancing around, even
though it was dark out here. “He could
draw a good picture, or tell someone
how.” She edged closer to Wyatt, and he
resisted the urge to slip an arm around
her.
Instead, he scanned the area. They
were standing outside in front of a worn-
out New York–New York. The area was
lit by streetlamps, but it was still
shadowy from the night. A smattering of
people were moving about, talking in
groups or rushing from place to place.
Inside, more people were in the pub or
the common areas. An albino wouldn’t
be hard to find even in the dim light. He
could take care of him in about thirty
seconds . . .
His gaze panned back and clashed
with Simon’s. The very same deathly
look was in his dark eyes, but he gave
Wyatt a subtle shake of the head.
Not the
way, brother.
Fuck that,
Wyatt flashed back.
“It’s too late,” Elliott spoke up. He
may or may not have read the unspoken
dialogue
between
his
friends.
“Goldwyn’s probably safely out there
with his friends in the Humvees. Waiting
for the countdown, twenty-four hours
from now.”
“Vaughn wants to meet in his office
at midnight,” Simon said. “Go over all