Variant Lost (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  His shoulders sagged—his voice had turned to honey.

  It was the first time I’d heard that voice since the hospital, and it broke something inside me. My insides twisted into a knot under my warm coat. I knew I was seeing the real Alec for the first time since that night.

  Without thinking about it, I reached out and placed my hand on his shoulder gently. I spoke as quietly as he had, injecting as much sincerity into my voice as I could muster. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

  The muscles under my touch relaxed a little, and he gave me a nod as he straightened, squaring his shoulders, making my hand fall away.

  Encouraged by the calmer, more approachable Alec, I figured I had nothing to lose by trying to bring up the crash and the hospital again. “About the night of the plane crash . . .”

  His attention had caught on something behind me, but his eyes flicked back to mine, the frown back in place.

  “I don’t have time for this.” The honey was gone from his voice again. “Make sure you keep your promise.”

  He adjusted the collar of his coat and rushed into the rain. I turned to watch as he crossed paths with Dot, who was jogging toward the chemistry building.

  “Hey, Alec.” She greeted him with a little surprise in her voice, her steps faltering.

  “Hey, Dot. Get to class. You’re late.” He didn’t slow down at all and soon disappeared around a corner.

  Dot joined me under the cover of the entranceway. “What’s going on? You OK?”

  “Yeah.” I tried to give her a smile, but it fell flat. “Um, I just tried to thank him again, and he got all weird about it. Again.” It wasn’t the whole truth. As much as I wanted to confide in my friend, there was something in me that didn’t want to break Alec’s confidence. All three of them had been very serious about me keeping my kiss with Josh a secret.

  “Damn. Why was he here though? He rarely ventures far from the admin building when he’s on campus.”

  “Beats me.” I had become a pretty good liar living with my mother. I shrugged my shoulders and tried to change the topic. “Do you have a class here too?”

  “Oh shit! I am so late for my biology lab!”

  It worked like a charm. She rushed inside the building and I followed, matching her pace. I was late for my chemistry lab too.

  That evening, the itching at my wrists returned again. It briefly reminded me how the beginnings of an episode had come on right before I’d kissed Josh at the party, only to perplexingly disappear. Most likely that had been a milder surge of energy, which my body had expelled immediately as I ran from the Zacarias mansion back to my res hall.

  This surge of energy was not mild.

  The itching spread up my arms and legs quicker than ever before, and I declined the Reds’ invitation to watch a movie over hot chocolate—perfect rainy weather activities, according to Beth—so that I could hide in my room, tear my clothing off, and spend the night scratching unashamedly. I alternated doing sit-ups and push-ups with long stretches of study and reading, trying to exhaust my body and my mind.

  I had four sleepless nights—more than any episode so far—which worried me a little. But at least it allowed me to get way ahead on all my coursework and read every scientific article on Variant DNA Tyler had recommended. But eventually the tingling, nervous energy left my body.

  I spent the week trying to focus on my studies and ignore all the things I was worried about but powerless to deal with. Of course, this turned out to be impossible.

  The intensity and length of my latest itchy energy—along with the fact that it had come right after I’d kissed a Variant—was disconcerting. Of course, several previous tests had confirmed my human status, but how could I reconcile that with the odd things I was experiencing? I was suddenly glad Tyler had insisted on the blood test—I need to confirm I was normal, that it was all in my head. Until then, I was doing my best to pretend this problem didn’t exist.

  The fact that I didn’t have the full story behind why Ethan, Josh, and Alec were being so secretive about Josh’s ability and our kiss was also driving me insane. But I couldn’t pretend they didn’t exist. In fact, I couldn’t seem to get away from them.

  It was a classic case of the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon—now that I knew who Ethan and Josh were, I was seeing them everywhere. When I was having coffee with Dot and Charlie or chatting to the Reds after class, one or both of them would join us. They acted perfectly naturally, making conversation and joining in whatever the group was doing, not giving me any more attention than anyone else but not ignoring me either.

  They were basically pretending nothing had happened. It was infuriating.

  They never spoke to me or approached me when I was alone, never giving me a chance to ask for answers. Not that they weren’t around when I was by myself.

  When I went for my early morning runs, trying to expel the crazy energy, I would spot Josh sitting under a tree and reading a book or Ethan throwing a football with some friends. One or both of them were in half of my classes, but they never sat next to me. As I walked out of Starbucks, mediocre latte in hand, there was Ethan walking in, giving me a friendly smile and a “hey, Eve” but hurrying past before I could stop him. As I walked into the library to do some research for an assignment, there was Josh, coming in a few minutes after and settling into a chair with a book.

  They even crashed a girls’ night. The Reds had suggested we go see a movie in Bradford Hills, since I hadn’t had a chance to explore the town. We made a night of it, deciding to go for dinner as well. As we reached the gates of the Institute on our way out, Ethan and Josh appeared. They engaged the Reds in conversation, Ethan’s easygoing personality putting even Zara at ease after a few minutes, and ended up spending the whole evening with us. Neither of them sat next to me at dinner or in the theater, and they walked us all the way back to our res hall, even though it meant they would have to double back to get home.

  I’d seen Alec around as well. Unlike the other two, he made it clear he was watching me. His hard stare would be unashamedly fixed on me, his mere presence reminding me to keep my mouth shut—which I’m sure was his intention. If I stared back at him too long or if I tried to approach him, he would turn around and stalk off.

  Even Tyler was popping up where I didn’t expect him. Although, to be fair, he did work at Bradford Hills. For all I knew, it was normal for him to be talking to my physics professor as I walked in for class, or to be passing by me in hallways and on the leafy lanes of campus more and more. He would always give me a friendly smile, but he never seemed to have time to stop and chat. I had no idea if Ethan and Josh had told him about the kiss, and I was not about to ask.

  I knew they weren’t actually stalking me, that it was just the curious state of my mind noticing them more than before. Still, it was getting a little weird how one of them was always around.

  But their constant presence and my increasingly suspicious mind were not even remotely as alarming as what happened in the middle of the night, one week after I’d been sworn to secrecy about what I’d seen in the Zacarias mansion.

  Nothing was as perplexing as why I found myself racing back there, feeling as if my chest were being torn open.

  Ten

  When I woke up, it was instant. One second I was asleep, and the next I was sitting up in bed, eyes wide, all senses on alert.

  Something was wrong. Really wrong.

  For a second I wondered if I was in pain. What had woken me? Was I in danger? But even before the worry had a chance to take root in my mind, I knew that wasn’t it. I was fine. I was warm and safe in my bed.

  Yet I knew that something was wrong. I could feel it with every fiber of my being. It took only another second of confusion before I threw the sheets off and jumped out of bed. I had to do something. I had to stop it.

  Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I knew this wasn’t logical. I just had to go.

  I slipped my feet into flats and grabbed a cardigan off the back of my c
hair on my way through the door, slipping it over my shoulders as I rushed through the living space.

  “What?” Beth shot up into a sitting position on the couch. Zara was out on a date, but Beth had stayed in, binge-watching something. “Where are you going? It’s the middle—”

  But I was already through the door and running. Halfway down the corridor, I heard the door slam behind me.

  My heart was beating frantically against my ribcage. I was running out of time. I was too far away.

  What if I don’t get there in time? A cry tore itself free from my mouth as I sprinted down the three flights of stairs. I couldn’t wait for the elevator.

  Beth caught up to me as I burst out of the front doors and flew down the front steps, the cool night air doing nothing to snap me out of my frenzy.

  “Wait!” She grabbed my elbow.

  I wrenched it out of her grasp and broke into a sprint, darting over the lawns in the most direct path toward the front gates.

  Beth managed to keep up with my frantic pace. “Eve, what’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”

  “Don’t!” I sounded distraught, even to my own ears. “Don’t try to stop me. I have to hurry. Before it’s too late to save him.”

  The words had sprung out of my mouth without thought, but they rang true. I have to save him.

  “Save who? Is someone in trouble?”

  I didn’t answer. I had no idea who “him” was or where my frantic feet were taking me, only that they were following some inexplicable pull, running on pure instinct and adrenaline.

  I passed Bradford Hills Institute’s massive front entrance and turned sharply to the left, Beth hot on my heels. Something in my voice, my expression, my frenzied behavior must have convinced her this was serious, and she was sticking to my side like the good friend she was.

  My breath was becoming labored and my legs burned, but I was nearly there. I could feel it. The pull was easing the closer I got, yet also somehow becoming more urgent. My heart beat wildly for reasons that had nothing to do with the punishing pace I’d set.

  He was fading away. I had to get to him now or I would be too late.

  I turned right at the next street, dashing across the road, barely checking for cars.

  Just a little farther. I grabbed the iron gate of the Zacarias mansion and used my momentum to propel myself around the corner.

  My feet crunched on the gravel of their ridiculously long driveway. Nearly there. I could feel him even more now, but it was . . . less. He was getting weaker.

  Beth had begun to fire questions at me again. Questions I had no answers to. “Oh my god, Eve. Why are we here? What the hell is going on?”

  At the end of the driveway, where the trees ended, a charred mess resembling a vehicle was sending coils of acrid black smoke into the night sky.

  The shock of seeing something so unexpected in the perfectly manicured front yard, combined with my own exhaustion, finally brought me to a stuttering stop. I leaned over, resting my hands on my shaking knees, and struggled to draw oxygen into my lungs, but the terror slamming into me from somewhere deep within wouldn’t allow me to pause for long.

  This is where it happened.

  “Holy shit!” Just as spent as me, Beth continued to ask questions between gasping breaths. “What happened here? Eve, you have to start talking! Please, just . . .”

  I ignored her, springing back into action, the urgency of my single-minded task impossibly doubling again. I ran up the front stairs and pushed through the front door, which was already ajar. No hesitation. No wondering where to go, which room to search for. I didn’t even think to call out. I just bolted straight through the house, past the kitchen, and out another half-open door.

  I needed to get to him.

  I ran as fast as I could around the pool and to the right, finally sprinting into the pool house.

  Josh was pacing the main area inside, barefoot and wearing only a David Bowie T-shirt and boxers, his hands in his hair. Bowie’s painted face seemed somehow out of place in a life-and-death situation.

  “. . . to get him warm. It’s the only chance we have.” Tyler’s voice was coming from the back of the building, along with another deep male voice swearing profusely.

  Josh’s hands dropped from his hair, a shocked expression falling across his features as I flew past him. “Eve? What . . . ?”

  Both he and Beth following me down the short hallway and into a tiled bathroom area. On the left was a wooden door with a small square window—a sauna. On the right, the glass wall of a steam room, steam billowing out of the wide-open door and past the three people huddled around the entrance.

  Held between Tyler and Alec, Kid was unconscious, his head lolling to one side, his big body completely limp. He was dressed in only his underwear.

  Tyler saw me first, barely sparing me a frown before focusing on his task. He had his hands under Kid’s arms and was half carrying, half dragging him into the steam room. Alec had his legs, the muscles in his shoulders bunching with the strain.

  As soon as I laid eyes on him I knew. This was why I was here.

  He was dying.

  I bent over as a sob broke past my lips and fat tears spilled over, running down my cheeks. It felt as if a piece of my soul was being torn away from me, making it hard to will my limbs into moving.

  But the tearing pull in my chest was impossible to ignore.

  In the moment it had taken me to absorb the scene and fall apart completely, Tyler and Alec had carried Kid into the steam room and lowered him onto the wide bench, his head and shoulders propped up on the adjoining tile wall. They were all speaking over me—frantic, confused voices—but none of it registered. My mind and body had homed in on the reason I’d woken up in a panic and sprinted here like a crazed person.

  There was no doubt in my mind that if I could just touch him, everything would be OK.

  I stumbled into the steam room, pushing past Alec as he tried to close the door, and fell to my knees next to the bench. At last, my hand reached out to press against Kid’s chest.

  I took a deep breath. For the first time that night, the sense of hopelessness, the feeling that he was slipping away, ceased. Everyone else in the room had gone quiet. The only sounds were my own breathing, still a bit erratic, and the soft whistle of steam being pumped into the room.

  The agonizing pull in my chest had eased, replaced with the instinctual knowledge of what he needed next. I became acutely aware of—and more than a little annoyed by—the wide-open glass door letting all the heat out.

  He was too cold.

  “Close the door. I . . . I can’t . . . I won’t be able to . . . He needs to be warm!” My last statement came out as a panicked shout.

  It broke the stupefied spell everyone was under, and they all sprang into action. Several voices spoke over one another in the background, becoming muted as someone finally closed the door to the steam room.

  He was getting warmer, but he needed . . . more.

  Urgency not unlike the itchy hyper-energy I’d been experiencing over the last year spread through me. But this felt heavier somehow. That feeling was all about me and the need to expel it—whatever it was. This feeling was about Kid. He needed this. His life depended on it.

  I took a deep breath and lifted my hand from his chest. The panic slammed back into me immediately, demanding that I resume contact, but I managed to ignore it for the few seconds it took me to undress.

  I kicked my shoes off as I ripped the cardigan away from my body and pulled my oversized T-shirt up and over my head. Feet shuffled and throats cleared behind me, and the realization darted through my mind that I was now standing in nothing more than my underwear and a tank top in a room full of people I barely knew. But I didn’t have time to be embarrassed or self-conscious.

  The frantic pull toward the fragile boy on the bench had become almost painful yet again. Without further thought, I swung a leg over his slumped form and lifted myself onto the tiled bench over him, my kn
ees pressing into his sides. I swept my messy, tangled hair out of the way before lowering my whole body onto his, my belly and chest resting on his torso as I gently dropped my head onto his chest.

  Eyes closed, I gave in to whatever it was that had brought me to his side so swiftly and decidedly. Every point where our skin made contact hummed—a warm, pleasant sensation. Slowly, my breathing began to even out.

  After some time—minutes? hours?—his chest rose under my cheek in a deep sigh. I slowly lifted my head to look into his face as his eyes cracked open. He shifted under me, and his big hands landed softly on my back as we stared at each other.

  After only a moment, his eyelids drooped closed again and his head lolled to the side against the tiles.

  I dropped my cheek back down to his chest. His heartbeat was stronger, and his breathing steadier. My skin was still humming wherever it touched his. Gradually, the furious energy of the evening’s events drained out of me.

  At some point, I passed out.

  When I woke up, I was warm, the pleasant humming feeling still flitting over my skin. I opened my eyes slowly, lazily. It must have been around dawn; the dark room had a soft blue tinge to it—the first light of day creeping in. I was bundled into a bed with the softest sheets my skin had ever touched.

  My head was resting on his shoulder, my arms tucked in front of me between our chests. He had one arm under my neck and the other slung gently over my waist, his fingers resting on the sliver of exposed skin between my underwear and the bottom of my tank top.

  I should have been freaked out. There should have been a million questions going through my mind. Instead, I was still half-asleep and still in the daze that had brought me to him in a panic, only the panic was gone. It just felt right. I was supposed to be here in this bed in the arms of Ethan Paul at dawn, hours after he had nearly died. This was where I belonged.

  Nothing existed outside the pleasant humming of our touch. Nothing existed past the edge of the bed.