Night Resurrected (39 page)

“Get . . . it . . . away . . .” she

breathed, clutching at her leather top.

“Take it away.”

Remy had moved forward with the

intention of loosening the vest to find out

what was happening. Maybe Lacey’s

immortality-giving crystal was burning

like hers had. But at the woman’s

agonized words, she stopped. Did Lacey

mean her own crystal? That she should

take it out of her skin?

Or . . . she looked over at the small

bundle of clothing she’d taken from

Vaughn’s room, in which her crystal was

wrapped. It was on the table right behind

Lacey, a mere yard away.

“It’s here,” Lacey gasped, her eyes

wide with pain. “Take it . . .
away
.”

Feeling Cat’s curious eyes on her,

Remy walked over and retrieved the

small orange crystal. It had come to life

and was burning and warm, but not with

the same ferocity as before.

She walked around to Lacey, who

was still panting, and had unlaced her

vest and pulled it away enough so the

crystal embedded in the soft skin below

her collarbone was exposed. Normally,

the small round gem would have been lit

with a soft ice-blue glow—just as when

Remy had seen it a few days ago. But

now it was gray and cloudy, like a

moonstone.

“What . . . have . . . you . . .
done
,”

Lacey whispered, looking down at it.

Fury and loathing blazed in her eyes

when she lifted her face, and Remy knew

if she had the energy, the woman would

be out of the chair and coming for her—

Dantès or no. “You’ve killed me.”

“I’ve done nothing,” Remy replied.

“Tell me about this. Tell me about this

crystal. I don’t know what it does or

where it came from. Is it really the

Mother crystal?”

“You . . . don’t . . . know?” Lacey

managed an unpleasant laugh, even in the

midst of her pain. True character,

blazing through. “Joke’s on me,” she

added bitterly. “I didn’t . . . know

either.”

“Know what?” Remy pressed. Was

the woman really dying? Or was she just

in pain—as if it were a sort of kryptonite

or asthenia that made her weak while in

her presence? She experimented by

stepping back and away from Lacey,

putting distance between the bounty

hunter and the crystal. “Does this make a

difference? If it’s farther away?”

“It’s too late,” the other woman said

from between gritted teeth. Sweat

trickled down her face. “It’s dead. My

stone’s . . . dead. And I will be . . .

soon.”

“Then tell me what you know,” Remy

said again. “And I’ll get Elliott here.

He’ll help you.”

Lacey’s smile was bitter. “No one

. . . can help . . . me . . . now. Once the

stone . . . dies . . .”

Remy knew her only chance to get

more information was to drag it from the

woman. Dying or no, she wasn’t going to

give it up without a fight. “So you’ve

been chasing me—and this crystal—for

years, and now that you’ve located it . . .

what? Its proximity kills you? That’s

kind of a kick in the teeth, isn’t it?”

The bounty hunter’s lips were a flat

white line. Her face was as pale as

Goldwyn’s, matching her hair. The

sweat of agony collected at her temples

and dribbled down her cheeks, gathered

at the bony hollow of her throat,

glistened everywhere on her skin. Her

eyes were two dark orbs, sunken in

hollowing sockets, the circles beneath

them were darkening even as Remy

watched.

“Never . . . knew . . . that,” the

woman replied. “Never . . . was told.

Don’t know . . . if . . .
they
even know

. . .” Her lips twisted in an evil sneer.

“Hope . . . they . . . don’t. Hope . . . they

find . . . you. Take . . . the . . . stone. And

all . . . fucking . . .
die.
”

This impassioned speech seemed to

cost too much effort, and she sagged

lower in her chair, her head falling

against the back. Her corded neck

bulged with blue veins, her pulse

throbbing visibly in her throat.

“Did they send you here to get me?

After they made the threat last night?”

Lacey opened her eyes, fixing them

on Remy. “
I . . .
knew you were here.

Guessed . . . followed . . . Ian.
I . . .
told

. . . Hegel . . . son. Not Ian.” Her lips

stretched in a tight, pleased smile. “I

wanted . . . reward. Ian . . .” She shook

her head, closed her eyes.

“You knew I was here, and so Liam

Hegelson—yes, I know the name,” Remy

said when she saw the flare of surprise

as Lacey’s eyes shot open, “sent you to

follow up on their threat. To take me to

them, after they promised to destroy

Envy. What will they do when I don’t

go? When I don’t appear? What do they

plan to do to Envy?”

But Lacey had closed her eyes. Her

labored breathing rasped in a silence

broken only by Dantès vigorously

scratching his side.

“Lacey.” Remy prodded the woman

with her voice. “What are they going to

do?”

“Destroy . . . Envy,” she replied. And

showed a malicious hint of teeth.

“Yeah, I got that. But how? More

bombs? A fire? An invasion?”

Lacey didn’t respond. She just

watched her through black, blank eyes,

malice exuding from her even as the life

drained away.

“Okay, let’s try this: why do they

want the Mother crystal? What does it

do?” Remy brandished the stone, holding

it up for Lacey to see.

“Very . . . powerful. Too . . .

dangerous . . . for anyone.” Her

bloodless lips twisted in a parody of a

smile. “Didn’t know . . . how . . .

dangerous. Want to have . . . control.”

“What did it do to you?” Remy

asked. “The crystal. What happened?”

Lacey shifted her head weakly in a

negative movement. She was going.

Remy could almost see the life draining

from her.

“Is there a way to destroy the crystal?

What if I get rid of it . . . then the

Strangers won’t be able to get it.”

Somehow, the dying woman was able

to force a rough, wheezing laugh. “Yeah

. . . do it . . . destroy the crystal. That

. . .” She moved her lips up at the

corners. “. . . would . . . serve . . . right.

All . . . die . . . then. All connected to . . .

crystal . . . would . . .” Her voice trailed

off and she closed her eyes. For a minute

Remy thought she was gone.

But then she heaved back into motion

with a deep, shuddering breath. One of

her fingers twitched as if to emphasize

something she’d said.

I’m losing her
. Damn. Then a thought

struck her. “Who’s Liana?”

To Remy’s surprise, Lacey opened

her eyes and fixed them on her. A blaze

of consciousness shone through the

dullness for a moment. “How . . .” She

shuddered a breath and lifted a trembling

hand as if to ward off some threat. “. . .

do . . . you . . . know . . . about . . . Li . . .

ahh . . . na . . . ?”

And then her eyes went blank. Her

hand fell. And she was gone.

W
yatt was pacing Vaughn’s office

because he sure as hell couldn’t sit. He

ached everywhere from holding his

muscles tense, from doing
nothing
. His

head pounded. His belly gnawed.
Where

the hell are you, Remy?

At the moment, he didn’t even know

where their so-called fearless leader

was either. During his reunion with

David,

the

group

scattered

to

temporarily

handle

other

pressing

matters, and afterward Wyatt had gone to

look for Vaughn, in vain. And now the

mayor had yet to arrive at the appointed

time for the meeting’s continuation.

Thirty-one hours. Closing in on less

than a day.

The door opened and everyone

looked up.

“New development,” said Quent as

he came through the door and Wyatt

gritted his teeth. Where the hell was

Vaughn? Quent slid onto a seat next to

Zoë. “Sorry I’m late. But one of our

questions

has,

unfortunately,

been

answered.”

Fuck that.
The only question Wyatt

wanted answered was for Vaughn Rogan

to tell him
where the hell Remy was
.

The longer the mayor kept her

whereabouts hidden—and even the

knowledge that he had it—the less Wyatt

was inclined to trust him. He’d always

liked the man, respected his leadership,

and even enjoyed chatting with him over

a cold one. But as Vaughn had already

clearly said: his priority was the mass of

Envyites as a whole.

Wyatt’s,

on

the

other

hand,

surprisingly enough, had become the

personal safety of one woman.

And therein could lie an ugly

conflict, especially if the rest of the

group sided with the mayor. Or even if

they didn’t.

Vaughn could be keeping her

imprisoned somewhere as a last ditch

bargaining chip if every other option

failed—not that anyone had presented

any other fucking options. They were all

just sitting here, waiting, trying to clean

up, trying to
guess
at what to do.

They needed reconnaissance. They

ne e de d
action
. He wanted to punch

someone. He wanted to shout and get out

of this room and tear the damn place

apart until they found her . . . and yet, he

knew that any searching or tracking had

to be done very carefully.

Because if the general public became

aware of the fact that Remy, a young,

beautiful woman, was Remington Truth,

everyone
would be looking for her.

“What’s the new development?”

Elliott asked. “And where’s Vaughn? He

was supposed to be back here by now.

Are things getting crazy out there?”

“The new development is that we

have the answer to one pressing

question: how to communicate our

response to the Strangers,” Quent

replied. “They sent a team of bounty

hunters—a bloody fright of a woman and

her albino partner. Walked right up to

Fred Newbergh at the gate and bloody

announced they wanted to see the

mayor.” He ran a hand through his hair

and looked at Fence. “Remember when

Seattle put that damned bullet in Theo?

That blond wench who was with him?”

“She visits me regularly—in my

damned

nightmares,”

Fence

said.

“Lacey. That was her name. Couldn’t be

a worse choice for a name, if ya’ll ask

me.”

“Spoken by the guy who goes by

Fence,” muttered Ana. “What happened?

Did they see Vaughn?”

“Don’t know. Last I heard they were

looking for him.” Quent turned his

attention to Wyatt. “Simon’s—”

Before he could finish, the door

opened and Vaughn strode in.
’Bout

damn time.
Wyatt narrowed his gaze on

him, taking no care to hide his precise

feelings about the situation. If the others

hadn’t been present, he’d have the damn

man—mayor or no mayor—by the throat

until Vaughn told him where Remy was.

He might anyway.

“How is it out there?” asked Sage.

She flickered a glance at Wyatt as if to

ease his mood. He gritted his teeth and

looked away.

“Getting

unpleasant,”

Vaughn

replied. “There’s a group of about two

dozen being whipped up into a frenzy by

Susan Proudy, about finding Remington

Truth. She’s trying to get them on board

to start searching every damn room and

home in the whole city until they find it.

Yes,” he added, his mouth in a wry

grimace, “they are searching for
it
—not

her. Or even him. Got people leaving

too. Packing up their things and taking