Vital Found (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 2) Page 15

  “Just listen, OK?” She nodded and I removed my hand. “I couldn’t stop thinking about the Lighthunter and how there’s no way to authenticate that she can do what she says, but there is a way. I’m the way. She doesn’t know me. She’s never met me. No one even knows my real name, and how would they find out? Plus, if there’s one thing my mother taught me to do well, it’s disappear.”

  I paused, waiting for her reaction, but Dot just stared at me for a few moments, dumbfounded. “What exactly are you saying?”

  “I’m going to run. And the guys can’t know about it.” I cringed even as I said it. I knew exactly how hard this would be to pull off, and I knew how pissed they would be when I did it. But it would all be worth it. For Charlie.

  “Eve, no. I can’t ask you to do that.” She shook her head, but I didn’t miss the spark of hope in her eyes. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “You’re not asking.” I took her by the elbows, leaning my face close to hers. “I’m offering. No, I’m not just offering. I’m telling you I’m doing this. For Charlie. I’ve felt so useless and helpless the past few months, and finally here’s an opportunity to actually do something about it. I’m not going to miss it.”

  “I get it, but why can’t we ask for help? I would be livid if Charlie pulled something like this. Your Bond is fucking scary, and they’re not gonna like it. Why can’t some of them go with you while the others stay behind to test the Lighthunter?”

  “They have rare abilities, they’re Lucian Zacarias’s nephews, they’re too high profile. It would be way too easy to track their passports, find them using facial recognition. I can’t have them with me, and they’d never let me go alone.”

  “What about Alec? I’m sure he has secret identities, considering what he does.”

  “Probably. But again, that would mean using Melior Group resources, which would leave a paper trail. No one knows me, Dot. If they knew I was Evelyn Maynard and heard some of the stories about us as kids, they might have connected the dots and guessed I was Alec’s Vital. But no one even knows I am a Vital. There is nothing to connect me to them in any way.”

  “What if something goes wrong? What if they catch you? There has to be another way.” She had three questions for every answer I gave, but she was looking at me as though she hoped beyond hope I would keep answering them.

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” I didn’t want to think too hard about the ominous “they”—about the possibility of ending up in the same position we were trying so hard to get Charlie out of. “Having a good plan and thinking through the contingencies will help us minimize it.”

  “But Tyler might not even be able to get in touch with this so-called Lighthunter.”

  “But if he does, I want to be prepared. The second we hear that he’s made contact, I want to be ready to go.”

  “I still think we should tell them. They can help—”

  “Dot,” I cut her off, “you and I both know they will never let me do this. They won’t even let me out of their sight from the mansion to the campus. And the only way to be sure is if I go alone.”

  She watched me for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip. “What does that mean? What would you need to be ready to go?”

  I smiled, finally allowing a little excitement to take over. She hadn’t said it outright, but Dot was in.

  “I’ll need ID, and I can’t trust some hack to do it for me. I’ll need some equipment so I can make a passport and maybe a driver’s license. And I’ll need a disguise—just something to get me out of Bradford Hills without being recognized.”

  “A passport? Where would you go?”

  “I can’t tell you. All it would take would be for Tyler to ask, and . . .”

  “He’d know,” she finished for me. “Right.”

  “I’ll make you a list, you let me know if you can get the stuff, and we can take it from there. We’d better get out of the bathroom now. If someone actually is listening in, they’ll think we’re getting it on in here.”

  I chuckled, and Dot let out a big laugh. “That explains the paranoid behavior.”

  I turned the shower off and followed her into the living room. We spent the next few hours working on our biology homework and expertly avoiding any mention of what we’d discussed in the bathroom. She clearly had a bunch of burning questions—I could practically read them in her eyes—but she controlled herself like a pro. Dot loved gossip, but this was about saving her brother’s life. There was no way she would jeopardize that.

  On her way out, she gave me a big hug, holding me longer than usual, and whispered into my ear, “Thank you. I don’t deserve you.”

  We pulled apart and shared a meaningful look before she walked away, her head held a little higher, her steps a little lighter.

  Dot was halfway down the corridor when the elevator dinged and Zara stepped out. She appeared to be deep in thought, staring at the ground, so she didn’t see Dot until the smaller girl was wrapping her up in a hug.

  I laughed, both delighted to see Dot happy and amused by the surprised look on Zara’s face.

  “I’m heading off, but I’m glad I bumped into you, Zee.” Dot gave her a kiss on the cheek and rushed to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

  “See ya!” Zara yelled after her and rolled her eyes, tucking a silky strand of red hair behind her ear. A reluctant smile pulled at her lips.

  “How was your night?” I asked as she let herself in, removing her leather jacket and sitting down on the couch to get her boots off.

  “Yeah, OK.” She struggled with the left one. They were the pull-on kind—no zips.

  I stepped forward to yank on the heel. “Who’d you catch up with?”

  We both strained until the boot slid off, and I stumbled to catch my balance.

  “No one you know.” Zara held her other leg out, and we repeated the process until she was boot-free.

  “What’d you do? Where’d you go?” I started to tidy up the main living area. Neither one of us had really had time to clean. The place was a mess.

  Zara narrowed her eyes. “What’s with the interrogation?”

  I paused halfway through wiping down the little dining table by the door. I was deflecting, trying to keep focus on Zara in order to avoid talking about what Dot and I had discussed, and it was getting obvious. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. I felt like shit not telling Zara, excluding her from something so important.

  “Sorry.” I hoped my smile didn’t look too guilty. “Just making conversation. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  I finished wiping down the table, then braced myself as I moved on to the little bar fridge. Something had gone off in there several days ago, and I was about to find out what it was.

  “That’s OK. Oh . . . ugh!” Zara and I both gagged at the putrid smell. I had to lean back and cover my nose with my elbow as I extracted every single item, not willing to get close enough to identify the culprit.

  Zara put some music on. My cleaning frenzy must have infected her—either that or she felt guilty I was the only one doing it—and she put on some gloves and started scrubbing the bathroom.

  We spent the next hour cleaning, chatting about easy, pointless things. By the time I went to bed, I was sure she didn’t suspect anything, but the spot just under my ribs was no less twisted at the thought of deceiving her.

  Thirteen

  Dot’s black hair was gliding through the straightener when “Side to Side” by Ariana Grande began to play through the speaker in the corner.

  It was Dot’s nineteenth birthday, and we were in the spare room of Lucian’s apartment on the Upper East Side. I hadn’t been back there since the night of the gala, when I was too drunk and then too hung over to really appreciate it.

  The beautiful apartment was modern and sleek in every way the mansion in Bradford Hills was old-world and classic. Every room had stunning views of Manhattan. While we put on makeup and did our hair, Dot and I watched the city lights start to twinkle as the sun
went down.

  I paused, holding the straightener over Dot’s head as I grooved along to the beat. “I like this song.”

  I’d been listening to a lot of rock, discovering bands I’d never heard of thanks to Josh and his obsession. With all the new playlists he’d been making for me, I hardly ever heard the radio, let alone a new pop song, anymore.

  “Me too! It’s so dirty.” Dot grinned at me in the mirror.

  “Dirty?” I frowned as I pulled her shoulders back against the chair, trying to finish doing her hair.

  “It’s pretty much about being fucked so hard you can’t walk straight.” She chuckled. “What did you think it was about?”

  I laughed, throwing my head back. “I don’t know. I’ve never really paid attention to the lyrics. I just like the beat.”

  “I hope tonight ends with me walking side to side,” she declared. “It’s been way too long since I had good sex.”

  “You and me both. Except it’s more like never for me. All the sex I’ve had has been mediocre at best.” I shook my head as I finished smoothing out the last section of her perfectly straight hair, then set the hot straightener down on the vanity, somehow finding a clear space in among all the makeup, hair products, jewelry, and for some reason, a bra.

  “Well it’s lucky you have four seriously hot guys in your Bond who won’t be able to resist hitting that pretty soon.” Dot jumped out of her seat, smacked me on the ass, and rushed over to the little speaker.

  I snorted. “Whatever. I think it could be pretty good with Josh and Ethan, anyway.” I didn’t want to get into the whole “half my Bond finds me repugnant” thing.

  “At the same time?” She wiggled her perfect brows suggestively and restarted the song.

  “That would certainly leave me walking side to side,” I answered, intentionally vague, as she cranked the volume up.

  She bounced over to me as the lyrics began, doing the silliest, least sexy dance I’d ever seen. “Dance with me!”

  I rolled my eyes at her, but her excited energy was infectious, especially when seeing a genuine smile on her face felt so great. For the next three minutes, we bounced around the room with the kind of energy I got when I had an overflow of Light.

  Once the song ended, more upbeat “going out” music blasted through the speaker. We left it on loud as we finished getting ready.

  When Dot had declared she wanted to have a night on the town for her birthday, we were all a little surprised. But she’d explained we’d all been working like crazy and worried out of our minds for Charlie, and it was time to put a pause on it all.

  “I just want one night to pretend like everything is normal, go out, have too much to drink, and just . . . forget for a little while.”

  No one could begrudge her that, and within two days, she and Ethan had organized it and invited more people than I’d ever met.

  Dot was in all white, a dress that combined patent leather and velvet and somehow managed to look high fashion and edgy, especially when paired with her white thigh-high boots.

  In contrast, I was in all black. Dot had talked me into a pair of very tight black pants—which, admittedly, did make my ass look pretty good—and a shimmery top that left way too little to the imagination. My distress beacon necklace was tucked snugly into my cleavage, out of sight except for the silver chain. Because it was her birthday and she kept gushing about how hot I looked, I let her complete the look by straightening my hair and putting it in a very high ponytail.

  Before we headed to the front door, I put my coat on. I was a bit self-conscious about the outfit and wasn’t ready for everyone to see it in the bright hall lights; hopefully I’d be more comfortable in the dim lighting of a club. Dot complained that with her birthday being in December, it was always too cold to go anywhere without a coat, which ruined her outfit—even though the coat she had on was faux polar bear fur that matched what she was wearing perfectly.

  As Dot and I, along with my four Variants, squeezed into the elevator, she sighed. “I wish Zara was coming.”

  “Me too.” I gave her a sad smile.

  Zara was reluctant about any event involving a large group of Variants together in one place, but she’d reluctantly agreed to come celebrate Dot’s birthday. Then, the day before, she’d come down with a stomach bug. Dot and I were both suspicious; the timing was just a little too convenient. But hearing her vomiting in the bathroom as I packed my overnight bag had convinced me she wasn’t faking it.

  “You think she’ll be OK?” Dot asked. “Maybe we should’ve just canceled it.”

  “Stop looking for excuses to cancel this!” Ethan gave her a nudge with his shoulder—or rather the side of his arm, because his shoulder was level with the top of her head. “It was your idea, and Zara will be fine.”

  “It’s just a stomach bug, and she said a friend was coming over to check on her,” I reassured her.

  “Who?” Dot frowned. “Everyone we know is coming tonight.”

  I shrugged. Once again, Zara had been vague about who she was spending her time with, and I wasn’t going to pry. I was keeping things from her too. “I think it might be the mystery man or woman she’s been seeing.”

  “Do I need to run a background check on this person?” Tyler held the door open, frowning, and we all filed out.

  I gave him a warning look. “Can we rein in the stalking for one night?”

  He laughed and held his hands up in surrender, but Alec brushed past and said simply, “No.”

  I chose not to engage. It was Dot’s birthday.

  We decided to walk to the club. It was a clear night, and while the crisp air hinted at snow, it was likely to stay clear. The six of us bundled more tightly into our coats as we started the four-block walk.

  Ethan and Josh took the lead, joking and laughing, their broad backs covered in thick wool. Dot and I walked arm in arm behind them, much more quietly. I had a feeling she needed some time alone with her thoughts, and I was more than happy to simply walk with her. Alec and Tyler stayed behind us, speaking softly and, I’m sure, keeping an eye on everything.

  When we were about halfway there, something occurred to me. “Wait a minute. How are we going to get into a club? Isn’t the legal drinking age here twenty-one? I could have made a fake ID if you guys had given me notice.”

  In response, everyone laughed. Ethan turned around without missing a step, walking backward as he spoke. “Uncle Lucian owns the club.” He flashed me his dimples, then turned back around and kept walking.

  Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he own an exclusive club in New York?

  “That’s a useful skill to have,” Alec piped up.

  I flashed him a confused look over my shoulder before I realized I’d casually announced I could falsify identification documents. “Oh, that. Yeah. My mother taught me when I turned twelve, I think, or eleven. Around then. She wanted me to know how to do it in case she . . .” died. But I really didn’t want to go there. The mood of the night was heavy enough, with Charlie’s absence constantly hanging over us. “Umm . . . In case I needed to.”

  I felt a squeeze on my arm. My eyes met Dot’s, and we shared a meaningful look. We were both missing people we loved, but tonight was about having a little fun. About allowing ourselves to feel good for one night.

  As we rounded the corner into a side street, I got my first glimpse of an exclusive New York nightclub. A line of people at least fifty deep, cordoned off behind a long stretch of velvet rope, led to the front doors. We walked past them, none of my companions even missing a step, and stopped in front of the entrance. The sleek doors were painted black, like the rest of the building, and were at least ten feet tall, with chunky round handles in their centers. Above them, red neon spelled out the words Black Cherry.

  In front of the doors stood two large men, the bouncers, dressed in matching suits. “You’ll have to go to the back of the line.” One of them leaned forward and pointed, his tone not aggressive, simply matter-of-fact.

 
The two girls at the front of that very line, their hair pulled back tight, their makeup slightly overdone, smugly looked us up and down. I gave them a sickly sweet smile and turned my attention back to my friends.

  Tyler, phone in hand as he texted, held up his other hand to the bouncer in a “wait just a sec” gesture, not even looking at the man.

  He finished his quick text, returned his phone to his pocket, and just stood there casually as the other guys chatted. The bouncer looked to his companion, neither of them sure what to do. Before either could say anything, however, the doors behind them opened, and a tall thin man in a gray suit emerged. The music’s booming bass released into the night for a brief moment before the doors closed again.

  The man smiled wide as he hopped down the stairs, and the two bouncers went back to ignoring us.

  “Tyler!” He moved in for a firm handshake, then repeated the same greeting with the other three guys.

  “He’s the manager,” Dot stage-whispered to me. “We could have just told the bouncers we were on the list, but that would have meant going through an ID check. This way, we go straight in.”

  I nodded and chuckled to myself. I guess there really is no need for such pesky things as proof-of-age when your family is loaded and owns the club.

  He greeted Dot with a kiss on each cheek and a jovial “happy birthday.” He greeted me last but just as warmly.

  As he led us past the bouncers and straight through the big doors, I caught the looks of the two girls at the front, their faces much less smug now. I couldn’t help myself; I gave them another wide smile before heading inside.

  The inside of the club was draped in black, the walls covered in expensive-looking intricate wallpaper, the bars the same slick black finish as the doors, the seating a rich velvet. It was spread over a few interconnecting levels, with several bars and a large central dance floor.

  The manager said a few quiet words to Tyler and then disappeared up a side staircase. Dot took the lead, taking me by the hand and walking to a VIP area in a back corner, which had its own bar with bench seating running the length of the wall and small tables scattered throughout. A large sign above the seating read, “Happy Birthday, Dot” in curving script.