Night Resurrected (38 page)

the door.

“Well, first, you can be my lookout,”

Remy said, gesturing for her to go ahead

of her. “There are only a few people

who know who I am, and I don’t want

them to see me. Not because I don’t trust

them, but just until I figure out what to

do.”

Cat stopped halfway down the flight

of steps and turned to look up at Remy.

“You’re not thinking about turning

yourself over to the Strangers, are you?”

“Not unless it’s my only choice,” she

replied. “But if it’s an option between

all of Envy getting blown up or me going

with them . . . the choice is easy.” There

was strain around her mouth despite the

certainty of her words.

Cat shook her head. “No. We’ll find

another way.” A determined energy

filled her. This was something she could

do. Something worthwhile. A way to

change things, make them different . . .

make up for not getting there in time to

save Rick. A life for a life.

A chill of understanding caught her

by surprise. Was this what she’d been

waiting for? Something to do, to set

things right?

Cat decided at that moment there was

no way she was letting Remington Truth

offer herself up as a sacrifice. Anyone

who was even
talking
about doing so

had to be worth helping.

“So,” Remy said. She started down

the steps, forcing Cat to continue on as

well. “I need you to keep an eye out for

anyone who’d recognize me.”

“I guess that would include everyone

who was in with Flo yesterday? Ana and

Zoë and the rest? And I think I met

Simon and Elliott too . . . do they know

you?”

“Right,” Remy said. “Yes, they do

know me. And there are a few other

people who might recognize me. One is

named Ian Marck. I definitely don’t want

to run into him. I have to find a place to

hide out in the meantime.”

“You could stay in the room I have,”

Cat offered. “It’s just me and my dad,

and he’s busy right now.” She wanted to

tell Remy about the Resistance, and that

Dad was involved . . . but it wasn’t her

information to tell. She didn’t want to

put her father at risk.

They’d gone down several flights of

steps, with Remy describing the man

named Ian Marck as well as she could.

“And then there’s the mayor. You know

who he is, right? From onstage last

night?”

“How could I miss him? He is wixy

hot
,” Cat said with a grin. “A little old

for me, but definitely worth noticing—in

a different way than that creepy albino

guy who was checking me out. Anyway,”

she said, feeling a little foolish. This

wasn’t the time to be drooling over men.

Good thing she didn’t mention the über-

hot dark-haired guy who’d come up to

stand right next to her last night when her

dad was up onstage.
H e
was someone

she’d been hoping to run into again, now

that the chaos was over. “What’s the

matter?” she said when she realized

Remy had gone stock-still, five steps

above her. Even Dantès recognized his

mistress’s concern, for he gave a short

little yip.

“Did you say ‘albino’?”

“Yes. It’s not that I have anything

against them,” she added hastily. “I

mean, I don’t care if they have—”

“Never mind that,” Remy said,

urgency and fear in her expression. “You

saw him here? In Envy? Was he with

anyone? Was he alone? What did he

look like?”

“Yes, he was still here this morning.

I saw him when we were cleaning up the

rubble. He was with a woman. She was

kind of skanky looking with white-blond

hair in little—I don’t know what you

want to call them—
things,
like short

ponytails all over her head.
Crap.
You

know them? This is bad, isn’t it?”

“I should go back,” Remy said,

spinning on the stairs. “If they’re here, I

need to tell Vaughn. And get somewhere

where they can’t find me. They’re the

ones—they have to be the ones—who

told the Strangers where I am. And that I

have—” She stopped abruptly.

“You can stay in my room,” Cat

offered, wondering what she’d been

about to say. She had . . . what? “It’s just

me and my dad, and he’s . . . busy right

now. No one would think to look for you

there. Plus . . . how would you get back

into the mayor’s place? The door was

locked, wasn’t it?”

Remy bit her lip. “Damn. True. Okay.

Wait.
” She stopped, held her hands out

in front of her as if telling herself to

pause. “I’m not going to go running off

and hiding from them. I’ve been running

for twenty years. It’s time I took control

of things.”

Cat smiled, that spike of adrenaline

back. “I like the way you think. I’ll do

whatever I can to help, Remy.”

The other woman gave her a brief

smile. “Well, you say that now . . . but

this could be dangerous. And you don’t

even know me.” Her blue eyes fastened

on Cat, serious and intent.

“I need something to do,” Cat told

her. “Something to do with my life. I’ve

been feeling lost and empty for a while.”

To her embarrassment, her voice

cracked. “So what’s the plan?”

“We find the albino and the woman.

And we get some answers.”

Chapter 18

T
hirty-two hours

It was, Remy reflected, better to have

that awful deadline to focus her mind on,

to keep herself sharp. For, despite all of

the other problems she faced, her

thoughts kept wanting to slide back to

Wyatt . . . and the fact that she’d never

see him again. And that she wanted him

here, to help her. To give his flat, terse,

no-nonsense advice.

Her eyes stung and she squeezed

them shut tightly. No. Not now.

For some reason, Cat reminded her

of Wyatt. Maybe it was her no-nonsense

manner. Or the way she interacted with

Dantès. Or maybe it was just simple

transference—her confidant in Wyatt

was gone, and Cat happened to be the

next possible candidate.

Either way, she knew she’d have to

deal with her feelings for Wyatt

eventually . . . but right now she kept

telling herself there was a more urgent

matter at hand. People’s lives were in

danger and she was the catalyst for it all.

She had to be the one to find the

solution, because she was the only one

who knew the whole story. And she was

the only one who could make the

decision for her own future—one that

was now entwined with that of an entire

city’s.

Step by step. Little by little. Take

your time, figure it out. You have time.

You have time.

Remy waited with Dantès in Cat’s

room while their hastily assembled plan

was put into action. It would likely

work, but she would have been much

more comfortable being the one walking

up to Lacey and sticking a gun into her

side than allowing Cat to do it.

But it had been Cat’s idea—simple

and ballsy—and Remy couldn’t take the

chance of being seen while she was

looking for the bounty hunter. And Cat,

who’d never met Lacey, could literally

walk up to her without the woman

knowing she was a threat . . . it was just

a matter of finding the right moment,

when the bounty hunter was alone, and

letting her feel the gun Cat held beneath

her sweater.

So once again Remy knew she could

do nothing but sit and wait and see if the

plan succeeded.

The firearm was one good thing—a

stroke of luck, really. She’d acquired it

from Vaughn’s apartment. After he left,

she’d been busy, searching for anything

she could find that might help her decide

whose side he was really on. She found

the handgun—a Glock, just like one

she’d had when she was with Ian—and

some ammunition in a hidden space in

the back of one of his dresser drawers.

Likely he hadn’t anticipated her being in

his bedroom, but when Marley arrived

unexpectedly, that was where she’d

gone. And that was how she had the

chance to be nosy.

And now she sat, petting Dantès,

letting her mind run over those events

and the last few days . . . avoiding only

the knowledge that she’d never be kissed

again the way Wyatt had kissed her.

Who else, she thought with the faintest,

saddest of smiles, would kiss so

arrogantly and sensually at the same

time? Who else would be kissing the

hell out of her at the same time as he was

fighting himself from doing so?

She wished she’d had more of a

chance to talk to him. To understand

what went on in that mind of his. To ask

for his advice. To be embraced and

touched . . . and feel safe. Even if it was

only for a moment. Even if it was only

an illusion.

Wyatt. I hope you’re at peace now.

When the knock came, Remy stilled,

her heart pounding. She made a firm

gesture to Dantès not to make a sound.

This is it. Or, at least, it’s something.

She went silently to the door to look

through the peephole.

Lacey’s furious face, awkward and

bulbous through the tiny spherical

window, glared up at her. And behind

Lacey stood Cat, a grin on her own

countenance.

With a gust of relief, Remy opened

the door and Cat fairly shoved Lacey

into the room.

As soon as the bounty hunter saw

Remy, she bared her teeth in fury.

Despite the gun, she would have lunged

toward her as Cat turned to close the

door but for Dantès, who growled.

That was all he needed to do to stop

Lacey in her tracks.

“Dantès,

guard,”

Remy

said,

gesturing to their guest. She smiled

humorlessly at her former abductor. “He

won’t attack unless I give him the

command. Or unless you make a move to

hurt me. So I suggest you take a seat and

make yourself comfortable.”

Lacey had no choice but to comply,

and gave Remy a look of loathing before

sitting in the chair at which Cat pointed.

But as she sat, an odd expression

crossed Lacey’s face, and she clapped a

hand to her chest as Remy heard—or felt

—the faintest sizzling
pop.

“What the
fuck
,” Lacey exclaimed,

frantically looking around the room.

“What’s—oh hell
no
,” she breathed,

curling her fingers tighter into the shirt

she wore. Remy realized the bounty

hunter was gripping herself at exactly the

location of her crystal, which was

hidden by a black leather vest that did

not have its usual peephole.

“You
do
have it,” she said, looking at

Remy.

Her

expression

was

a

combination of greed and fear. “After all

these years, all the searching—”

She cut herself off with a groan as

Remy asked, “What are you talking

about?”

“The Mother crystal,” Lacey panted.

“It’s here. It’s right here. And it’s . . .”

She was still clutching her shirt, but her

face had gone gray and pale as Remy

watched, thinking the bounty hunter

either an amazing actress or in great

agony.

Cat

was

watching,

too,

with

confusion and surprise, but still held the

gun. And now the faint smattering of

freckles stood out more sharply in her

face. “I’ll keep her covered, Remy, if

you want to take a look and help her.”

She moved close enough that the gun

barrel was pointed right at Lacey’s head.

Remy nodded. Her new partner was

too smart to take any chances. By now

Lacey was collapsed in her chair, trying

to breathe. Her face was slick with

sweat and she continued to grip the stiff

vest that obscured her crystal.