ice. “I didn’t realize I was interrupting.”
Whatever had been bothering her was
obviously no longer a problem. “Ah,”
she said, her tones brittle now. “And
here are her clothes. I most
definitely
see.”
Vaughn said something else, but
Remy couldn’t hear anything other than
the tone: brief and hard.
Then she heard the opening and
closing of a door. Not a slam, but a very
deliberate
click.
Followed by a soft, heartfelt curse.
Confused and shaken, Remy realized
one thing: she didn’t want Vaughn to
know she’d witnessed any of that. She
had a lot of thinking to do. Who was her
enemy? Who could she trust? It was
better to play ignorant until she figured it
out.
She lay down on the bed, curled up
and facing away from the door, and
forced herself to lay still and even out
her breathing. Easier said than done with
her heart pounding like it was. But it
must have worked, for when Vaughn
pushed the door open a few minutes later
and said her name in a low voice, her
lack of response seemed to assure him
she was asleep.
Remy heard the door close behind
him and opened her eyes.
What the hell did all of that mean?
And what was she going to do now?
She looked at the clock.
Less than
thirty-seven hours.
“M
y first loyalty is to the people of
Envy,” Vaughn Rogan said. His eyes
were steely and determined as they
swept the room. “I know some of you
might not agree with me, but that’s
where I stand. I’ll do whatever it takes
to keep them safe.”
“Of course the first priority is to keep
Envy safe,” Jade said mildly. “You
don’t need to convince us of that.”
“We’ve got thirty-five hours,” Simon
said. “What do we have to work with?”
They were gathered in the mayor’s
ground-floor office, the people in the
inner circle—or, as Fence had jokingly
termed the group, the bad-ass guys. And
their bad-ass women. Jade and Elliott,
Quent and Zoë, Sage, Simon, Fence,
Ana, and Wyatt. The air in the room was
as brittle as ice.
“What’s the general sentiment of the
people?” Sage asked. “What’s everyone
hearing out there?”
“The most common reaction I’ve
experienced is confusion mixed with
fear. People have never heard of
Remington Truth. They don’t know who
or what it is so they don’t know how to
react or what to do. Remember, it was
only because of Jade and the fact that she
was imprisoned by Prescott that we
realized Truth was a person’s name,”
Elliott said. “So they don’t know what to
do or how to do it, and they’re scared.”
“So there doesn’t seem to be a big
push to find Remington Truth and turn
her over to the Strangers?” Ana asked.
“They’re not tearing the city apart,
looking for Truth?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Elliott said.
“At least, not yet. From what I heard,
there’s a lot of talk among them. It’s only
a matter of time until someone lets it
slip, or someone figures out who or what
Truth is. After all, we have a whole
group of survivors here right now. It’s
an unusual name, and someone might
remember that Remington Truth was the
director of the American NSA back
when the Change happened and put two
and two together.”
“We know Ian Marck is here, and
there must be someone else who already
knows about Remy—otherwise, how
would the Strangers even know she
existed, let alone that she was here?”
Sage added.
“That brings me to my main
concern,” Wyatt drawled. Keeping his
voice slow and low was the only way he
could keep from shouting. “Where the
hell is she? Has anyone seen Remy since
last night?”
Grim-faced, each of them shook their
heads.
“So it could be a fucking moot
point,” Wyatt pressed, his voice
dangerously calm. “If we don’t find her,
someone else can. Or already has done
so. So why the
hell
are we sitting here
talking about it
?”
“She’s not with Ian Marck,” Simon
said. “Or if she is, he hasn’t interacted
with her since last night. I have Brad
Talley keeping an eye on him just in
case.”
Wyatt managed to control a sneer.
Instead, he gritted his teeth and tried to
keep from charging out of his seat and
taking matters into his own hands.
Thirty-five hours. Less than a day and
a half.
The only reason he was here was
because he’d hoped that with the group
gathered, he’d have an efficient way to
learn whether someone had heard
anything from Remy. In about two
minutes he was getting the hell out of
here to do some reconnaissance on his
own. With or without the others.
“The other worrisome thing,” Quent
said, “is that the Strangers made their
threat and instituted a deadline . . . but
they gave no way for us to communicate
back with them—yet. Their so-called
conduits haven’t arrived, or haven’t
made themselves known. If we were
going to turn Remington Truth over to
them—presuming we intended to—we
have no way of knowing how or where
to do so. Which implies to me,” he
continued, speaking louder as Wyatt
opened his mouth, “that they have some
way of monitoring the city.”
“What the fuck do they want her for
anyway?” Zoë asked. “Seems like an
assload of work to be looking for her for
fifty damned years. Must be something
important.”
Wyatt glanced at Ana. He hadn’t told
anyone about Remy’s crystal, and as far
as he knew, no one else was aware of it
besides himself, Remy, and Ian Marck.
Ana didn’t seem to notice Wyatt’s
attention, but, as he hoped, she spoke up.
“I heard things, living in Atlantis. Bits
and pieces. The original Remington
Truth disappeared during the Change.
And at the same time, something called
the Mother crystal also went missing.”
She shrugged. “It’s logical to assume the
original Remington Truth had something
to do with it, but no one knows for sure
or how.”
“What exactly is the Mother crystal?”
asked Sage. “Maybe if we knew that, we
might . . . I don’t know . . . have a better
bargaining chip when dealing with the
Strangers? Is it related to the Jarrid
crystal—the one Quent and Zoë stole
from Liam Hegelson?”
“All of the crystals are related,” Ana
said. “At least, the living ones are.
There are energy crystals, which are
different from living crystals. But the
way I understand it, all the living
crystals are connected somehow. And
some of the connections are stronger
than others, and between different
types.”
“Marley would probably know
something,”
Quent
said,
suddenly
looking around. “Where is she, anyway?
She should be here.”
Vaughn shifted in his seat and ran a
hand through his hair. “I didn’t tell her
about the meeting. I wasn’t certain she
should be included. She is, after all,
crystalled.”
“Against her bloody
will,
” Quent
reminded him flatly. “If you recall. I
don’t
think
she’s
particularly
sympathetic to the Strangers.”
Vaughn nodded, his jaw visibly tight.
Wyatt found himself feeling unwillingly
sympathetic at the misery in the other
man’s face. Something was definitely up
there. “I do recall. I didn’t want to make
an assumption that everyone here would
be in agreement that she should be
trusted. And included, however. After
all,” he looked at Wyatt, “Remy’s safety
is at stake. As well as that of the entire
city. We have to find a way to get out of
this situation with both intact. And the
clock is ticking.”
A prickle went down Wyatt’s spine
and he went cold.
Vaughn knows.
He
knows where Remy is.
But what did that mean?
My first
loyalty is to the people of Envy
.
Wyatt heard that loud and clear. The
question was whether the mayor’s
priority included offering up one life to
protect and save many if it came down to
that.
There was a knock on the door and
the room went silent. The place wasn’t a
secret location, like the underground
computer lab built by Sage and the
Waxnicki brothers, but this was a
private sanctum in Vaughn’s public
office. Not many people knew it existed,
let alone how to find the entrance.
Vaughn himself rose and went to the
door, easing it open a crack. He spoke
quietly to the person on the other side,
then opened it fully. “Please join us,” he
said. “I expect you’ll have something to
add to the conversation.”
The mayor stepped away from the
door, casting a warning glance around
the room. His expression indicated
prudence in the topic of conversation.
“Hi, Dad,” Ana said when her father
walked in accompanied by another man.
“Does everyone know my father,
George? He’s the one who grows
Elliott’s penicillin,” she added with a
smile. “And keeps Flo’s showers
running superhot.”
“And this is David Callaghan,”
George said, gesturing to his companion
as he introduced him to the room at
large. “He’s just showed me a most
curious . . .”
Wyatt’s head was filled with a loud
buzzing sound. He started to get up but
his knees wouldn’t hold his weight. His
chest tightened so he couldn’t breathe,
and he felt Quent reach over and close
his fingers over his arm.
Then the man named David noticed
him. Their eyes met and the newcomer’s
face went slack with shock and then
turned white as a sheet.
He gripped the nearest chair and
stared at Wyatt. “Dad?” he whispered.
“No, no,” he added, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry. That’s . . .” But even as his
voice trailed off, he couldn’t seem to
look away. “You look . . . just like . . .”
“Your father.” Wyatt found his voice
and a blaze of joy surged through him.
“Wyatt Callaghan. Married to Catherine,
father of Abby and David. Resident of
Lockwood, Colorado. Fire chief and
burgermaker extraordinaire.” Now he
managed to stand. “David, it’s me. Your
dad.”
“D
avid. I am your father,
” said a very
deep, breathy, bass voice.
Of course, that was Fence, bringing
levity to the situation as usual. Wyatt
barely heard him, however, for the
roaring, rushing sound that filled his ears
obscured everything but his son, David,
saying again, “Dad? But . . . how is this
possible?” His expression was a
combination of joy, disbelief, and
confusion.
Wyatt wanted to explain, but he found
he didn’t want to waste his energy doing
such a mundane thing while he could be
drinking in the sight of his son.
Examining every detail of the man he’d
become. Noticing the gray in his thick,
dark hair, the wrinkles radiating from the
corners of his eyes. The smooth, slight
sag to his skin. Whiskers. No more
freckles. And he was much taller than
he’d been fifty-some years ago.
And so he was grateful for Sage, in
her calm, organized way, who explained
to David how his father came to be
sitting here, fifty-one years later and
unchanged. Mostly.
When Sage finished, Wyatt said, “I
have so many questions for you . . . but
first, I have to know—” His throat
closed up then, suddenly, and it burned
when he tried to swallow. Tears stung
his eyes and he blinked furiously.