Revival (The Variant Series, Book 1) (21 page)

“Yeah,” Kenzie agreed, fixing Declan with a look of amusement. “My brother could definitely stand to work on his people skills. You’d be better off with Nate training you. At least then you wouldn’t end up in the lake as often.”

Kenzie gave him a wink. Beside him, Declan mouthed the words “bite me.”

Alex laughed. “A girl can dream.”

Nate smirked.

Declan cleared his throat.

Alex’s eyes sprang open. She caught sight of them standing at the front entryway and her cheeks blazed crimson.

“In case you were wondering,” Declan sounded pissed. “We didn’t find anything useful in the car. Nate and I are going back to DC to see what else we can find out from Bartlett and—”

“You can’t honestly be thinking about going
back
there,” said Alex.

“Apparently my brother isn’t only lacking in people skills,” said Kenzie. “He’s also lacking in common sense. Stupidity, however, he appears to have in abundance.”

“—And you two are staying here,” Declan finished. “Don’t even try to argue with me, Kenzie. It’s the only choice we’ve got. We have to go.”

Kenzie glared at them. “You’re idiots,” she said. “The both of you.”

“Hey, you won’t get any argument from me. I happen to think it’s a terrible idea,” Nate smiled. “We’ll be careful, Red. I promise.”

Kenzie’s expression softened, but Alex still seemed worried.

“Before we leave,” Nate continued. “We could use a little help.”

Kenzie nodded, having already guessed at what he was about to request. “Come here,” she said. “We might as well let Alex do it.”

Nate hesitated.

The idea of giving Alex access to his memories when she didn’t know what she was doing made him more than a little nervous. He could trust Kenzie not to look beyond the memory he offered her.

Alex might not have enough control yet
not
to look beyond it.

There’s no telling what she might see.

“Can’t
you
do it, Kenzie?” he asked.

“What difference does it make?” asked Kenzie. “She’s got to learn sometime.”

Declan had already crossed the room and was standing behind the couch. “You waiting on a written invitation, Nate? Come on. We need to get moving.”

Alex chewed at her bottom lip and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She looked nearly as anxious as he felt.

“What is it you want me to do?” she asked.

“Tonight was the first time Declan had been to DC,” explained Kenzie. “So the only places in the city he can jump to are the places we visited tonight. Seeing as how those sites are probably crawling with Agency goons by now, they need a new location. Nate’s been there plenty of times with Grayson, so they’ll use his experiences to pick a different destination. Nate’s going to focus on a memory—a picture of a place he’s been before. You’re going to find it in his thoughts and memorize it as best you can. Then you’re going to give the image to Declan. That way he’ll know the place well enough to teleport there.”

“Finding the image sounds easy enough. I just read his thoughts, right?” asked Alex. Kenzie nodded an affirmative. “But then how do I give the image to Declan?”

“It’s easier than you think. All you have to do is concentrate on Declan and the image at the same time,” said Kenzie. “Oh, and I hate to say it, but until you know what you’re doing, you’ll need to touch him for it to work. Sorry about that.”

Declan rolled his eyes. “Can we just get this over with?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kenzie huffed. “You’re in a rush. We know. I’ve never seen anyone in such a hurry to get shot at. It’s not natural.”

Before the comment could spark an argument, Alex interrupted. “Have you got that image ready, Nate?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Ready when you are.”

He tried his best to clear his thoughts of anything he didn’t want her to see and keep his focus solely on the image of the park.

But that was a little like telling someone
not
to think about a pink elephant.

Alex’s stare became vacant, then sharpened as she met his gaze, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

Shit
.

What had she seen?

He slammed his mental walls back into place, shutting her out before she could stumble across anything else.

“You get it, Alex?” asked Declan.

“Y-yeah,” she stammered. “Yes. I’ve got it.”

She shot another cautious glance toward Nate before shifting on the couch and reaching up to press her fingers to Declan’s temple. He pulled back a second later and Alex dropped her hand.

“Got it,” he said, grabbing Nate by the arm. “Let’s go.”

Declan’s cell phone rang.

Releasing his hold on Nate’s jacket, Declan pulled the phone from his pocket. He checked the caller ID and then answered it in a blur of movement.

“Grayson!” he said brusquely. “Where the hell have you been? We’ve—”

Grayson’s reply was muffled to the point that Nate couldn’t make it out. He risked another glance at Alex. She was staring back at him, looking puzzled.

Whatever it was she’d seen, he’d have to deal with it later.

Next to him, Declan’s eyebrows had shot toward his hairline in an almost comical look of surprise.

“You’re
where
?”

— 18 —

“H
onestly, Johnny-boy. Did you have to hit me quite so hard? I think you might have cracked a rib.”

“And can you blame me? You snuck up behind me in a
parking garage
, for god’s sake.” Grayson rubbed his aching jaw. “Not to mention the fact that, at the time, I’d been convinced you’d lost what few faculties you still possessed and attacked Alexandra. Incidentally, I’m not entirely sure I
believe
your claim that you had nothing to do with it. Declan’s description of the man he saw in Florida matched you perfectly.”

Brandt shook his head and took a seat at the bar. Grayson settled onto the stool next to him, grabbed a cocktail napkin from behind the counter and pressed it against his still bleeding lip.

Brandt motioned to the bartender. “As if I would ever harm that girl,” his tone was indignant. “After everything I did to help you lot keep her safe back then, why in heaven’s name would I try to kill her
now
?”

“I don’t know, Carson,” said Grayson tiredly. “Maybe because you’ve spent the twelve years since then killing people for a living?”

It was difficult to keep their voices low and still be understood over the roar of conversation and country music. Grayson glanced around at the peanut shells littering the hardwood floors, the row of pool tables off to one side, and the primarily blue-collar clientele in their faded flannel shirts and worn-in trucker hats. He looked down at his own Savile Row tailored suit and Burberry trench.

Bloodstained collar or no, he was definitely overdressed.

The bartender, an attractive young woman in her mid-twenties, came to a stop in front of them. Taking their disheveled appearance in stride, she greeted them with a smile. “What’ll it be, boys?”

Brandt returned her smile with something bordering on a leer.

Nice to see
some
things never changed.

“Glenlivet,” said Brandt. “Neat, please.”

“And for you?”

“Just water, thanks,” said Grayson.

“He’ll have the same, love,” said Brandt, causing Grayson to raise an eyebrow. Brandt tossed a crumpled bill onto the bar. “Trust me. You’re going to want it once you hear what I have to tell you.”

The bartender slid two glasses of amber liquid in their direction.

“Oh? And what might that be?” asked Grayson.

“Thank you, love,” said Brandt to the bartender’s retreating form. He raised the glass to his lips. “That twelve years ago we screwed up.”

A chill ran the length of Grayson’s spine. “What are you talking about?”

“Back in January I was…” He searched for the phrase. “
Tending to some business
in Belfast.”

“You mean you were there to kill someone.”

“You make it sound so crass,” said Brandt. He swirled the whisky in his glass. “I’m merely a means to an end. They’ll end up dead one way or another. You know I only take the job if I feel the person deserves it.”

“Yes. Because you’re more than qualified to serve as
anyone’s
judge, jury and executioner.”

“I’m not here to defend my career choices to you, John.”

“Then get to the point.”

Brandt sighed. “I’d been hired by a party that wished to remain anonymous. Nothing unusual about that. What
was
unusual was that I’d been given a specific time and location where the job was to be completed.”

“Would this location happen to have been a cheap motel on the east side of town?”

“Been checking up on me, have you?” Brandt smiled. “When I got there, I knew something was off. I found the bomb stashed in a closet and managed to shimmy down a fire escape a few seconds before it went off.”

“How is it that everyone came to believe you’d been killed in the blast?”

“You’re not the only one who still has a friend or two at the Agency,” said Brandt. “Had them falsify some dental records for me.”

“What does all this have to do with what happened twelve years ago?”

“I’m getting to that.” Brandt took another sip of his drink. “I’ve spent the last few months trying to figure out who it was that hired me. I’d gotten nowhere until about a week ago when someone in the States accessed one of my Zurich accounts. I traced the transaction back to a bank in—of all places—a coastal Florida town.”

“And?”

“And I hacked into the bank’s security footage. Imagine my surprise when I saw my own handsome face walking around inside of a bank four-thousand miles away.”

“Are you suggesting it was a Mimic that tried to kill you in Belfast?” Grayson asked, surprised.

Mimics were a type of Variant that could take on the physical features of any individual they touched. Shapeshifters. Brandt would have needed to have come into contact with one for his likeness to have been absorbed by them.

That still didn’t explain how the Mimic had been able to control fire, unless that person had somehow inherited two abilities. And the odds against
that
one… Well, they were astronomical.

“That’s what I thought too, at first, so I went to Florida and tracked him down. Yesterday afternoon I followed him to a bookstore.” Brandt looked haggard. “I watched him attack the girl. And then I watched him teleport.”

Three abilities. For that to be possible…

“No,” said Grayson. “He’s dead, Carson. I made sure of it.”

“Well, apparently, you didn’t make
damn
sure, because the man is still very much
alive
,” said Brandt. “And if what happened in Belfast is any indication, he doesn’t appear to be too happy about what we did to him. I don’t know where you’re hiding the girl, Jonathan, but it had better be someplace he won’t think to look.”

Grayson reached for the glass on the bar. He downed its contents in one gulp.

“Masterson’s alive, John,” said Brandt. “And if we don’t figure out how to kill him properly this time, that prophecy of yours might just come to pass after all.”

*   *   *

“You know, I used to own a pit bull. As I remember, he slobbered a lot less than your friend. Smelled better, too.”

From her spot on the balcony, Cassie peered through the cracked sliding glass door and into Aiden’s living room.

Connor lay sprawled on one end of the L-shaped couch, snoring like a buzz saw and drooling onto the cushions. Brian was asleep on the shorter leg, Connor’s bare feet inches from his face.

Cassie shook her head, wondering what Brian’s reaction would be when he woke to an eyeful of Connor’s size 12’s. She was surprised the aroma of Eau de Feet hadn’t already woke him.

“You’d be wrong to assume that he’s any friend of mine,” she said, turning back around and leaning her weight against the railing.

Cassie had migrated to the apartment’s balcony after trying, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep in one of Aiden’s two recliners. Connor’s thunderous snore would have been enough to keep her awake all by itself, but she was soon facing a second problem.

Every time her eyes closed, she found herself somewhere else.

Blink
.

The warehouse.

Blink
.

The trunk of Brandt’s car.

Blink.

The dock.

Continuously reliving the events of the day had turned the prospect of sleep into a cruel joke. When Aiden had slipped quietly through the living room and out the sliding door to the balcony, the choice to follow him had practically made itself.

“That sounded distinctly bitter.” Aiden’s green eyes shined with mirth. “Is he an ex?”

“Not mine.” She pulled the borrowed blanket tighter around her shoulders in a futile attempt to stave off the chill of the evening. A salty gust of wind dragged her long blonde hair behind her.

“Surely he’s not
Kenzie’s
ex?” Aiden arched a brow. “I wouldn’t have guessed him to be my cousin’s type.”

“Alex’s,” she corrected.

The sound of waves crashing against the shore drifted up from somewhere below.

Aiden smiled. “Ah, the mysterious
Alex
. She of the wavy hair and endless trouble.”

He spoke the words as though he were already familiar with Alex’s particular brand of trouble.

Cassie focused on the moon’s reflection on the water, the way the long column writhed and danced upon the crown of each breaking wave.

Aiden’s place might not have been all that big, but his view of the Pacific Ocean was to die for.

At least, she thought it was the Pacific.

She really ought to ask someone which Newport they were in.

“Do you usually get mixed up in these things?” she asked.

“More often than I’d like,” he said. “Anything for family and all that… But one day I’m gonna start charging them hazard pay.”

“You guys pretty close?”

He shrugged. “With Nate, I guess. He lived with me out in Seattle a couple years back. I got him a job on a fishing boat,” he smiled. “Had some
interesting
times, before he decided to go back to work for Grayson.”