Vivid Avowed (The Evelyn Maynard Trilogy Book 3) Page 6

  Lucian laughed. “What? I lived in London for years. I picked up some habits. It’s pretty good when the tea is high quality.”

  “I never took you for a tea snob,” I teased.

  “Look who’s talking, miss ‘fair-trade, organic espresso or nothing.’”

  “At least you don’t make your tea in the microwave,” I conceded as we both cringed. America was the only country I’d lived in where the concept of a kettle was foreign.

  “I have to admit, it’s good having those espresso machines at the house and the apartment for when I want a decent coffee. Don’t know why I didn’t put them in sooner.”

  “Maybe because you can wave a distinguished hand and someone rushes out to get you one whenever you want.”

  He rubbed his chin in an exaggerated way. “You might be onto something. Maybe it’s the novelty of doing it myself—experiencing how average people do it.”

  We both laughed. I was happy to see he had a sense of humor about his obscene amount of money. Just like Ethan, he didn’t let his privilege go to his head.

  We spent the next half hour eating the fluffy, sweet pancakes and sipping our tea and coffee while we chatted, avoiding the heavier topics of my mother and all the tensions in the world. When our plates and cups were empty, a comfortable silence settled between us. I stared out the window at the people strolling past on Bradford Hills’ main street.

  “Evie, before we head off”—Lucian’s expression became solemn—“I wanted to speak to you about something. And if you don’t want to discuss this today, just say so. It’s totally fine. But I wanted to talk to you about setting up a memorial plaque for Joyce.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. The idea hadn’t even occurred to me. I’d spent the past two years trying to just survive without my mom.

  Suddenly I felt as if I was letting her down. She deserved to have something permanent to mark her life. She deserved to be remembered and honored. Tears stung my eyes, and I took a labored swallow around the lump in my throat.

  Lucian sighed. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I know this must be an incredibly difficult day for you, and I just wanted to do something to focus on the person she was instead of dwell on the way she died. We can discuss it another time.”

  I looked at the ceiling, trying to dry up my tears before they fell. “No. It’s just a really emotional day for me. To be honest, I’m feeling bad I didn’t think of it.”

  He smiled. “You’ve had a lot to deal with, and honestly—”

  Whatever he was about to say was cut off by a loud whooshing that drowned out all other noise. A wind so strong it overturned tables and chairs exploded through the café, making it difficult to breathe.

  I threw my hands up instinctually to protect my head, but through a gap in my forearms, I saw one of the Melior Group agents get taken out—by water.

  All the liquid in the area—the teas and coffees, the dishwater in the sink, the water in the small fish tank on a side table—congregated into one ugly, gray, writhing ball of water, which affixed itself to the head and upper body of one of our protectors.

  The man pulled his gun but quickly realized it was useless. What good were bullets against a seemingly sentient ball of liquid? He thrashed, bumping into people and furniture still being tossed about by the wind. After a few minutes of frantic scratching and clawing, he fell to his knees, then onto his front, his body convulsing as he drowned.

  Once he stopped moving, the water lost its shape and pooled around him. His empty eyes stared upward, wide and unblinking.

  The unrelenting wind whipped my hair around my face, making it almost impossible to hear or move. I jumped as someone’s hand closed around my wrist, but when I turned, it was only Lucian. His chair had been pushed up against the wall. He pulled on my arm, gesturing for me to get behind him as his eyes flicked to something over my shoulder.

  I dropped to my knees, and the chair I’d been sitting on flew into the cyclone. Struggling to keep my balance, I crawled over to lean against Lucian’s legs and try to get my bearings.

  Most of the people in the café, as well as the furniture, had been pushed to the walls. Some cowered in fear; others appeared to be unconscious or dead. I had no idea where the agents outside were or if they were even alive.

  The drowned agent’s partner lay half-behind the counter, a snapped-off chair leg sticking out of his chest. Blood dripped from his mouth and the wound, puddling beneath the gun next to his outstretched hand. The wind slowly dragged the weapon across the tiles, marking a crimson streak along the ground as it skittered past a pair of small purple boots. I followed the legs up until I was looking at a young woman. She was the only one in the room standing, not at all affected by the wind. The blonde hair in her messy ponytail didn’t even stir.

  She was short, maybe a half foot taller than Dot, and dressed in jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt. A dirty apron hugged her hips. She looked like one of the kitchen staff—an unassuming twenty-something, maybe even a Bradford Hills student—except for the crazed look in her narrowed eyes and the way her teeth gritted as she arced her hands in wide sweeps.

  She was coming straight for me and bringing fire with her.

  The wind didn’t abate, but now she was drawing fire from the grill in the back, pulling it forward, letting it swirl with the wind and ignite everything it touched. Her intense gaze never left me as she approached with small, slow steps.

  If the chaos and destruction so far hadn’t already scared me stiff, the intention in her look and posture certainly would have. My heart hammered in my chest. Every muscle in my body tensed as my mind went crazy with options, but they flew through my head too fast for me to grab on to an idea and run with it.

  I couldn’t move, couldn’t call for help, couldn’t do anything to attack her or defend myself.

  Defend. Block!

  Maybe I couldn’t do it, but Lucian could.

  I reached a hand up, and his warm grip closed around my wrist. As soon as I had skin contact, I pushed as much Light into him as I could.

  Transferring to a Variant outside my Bond always took more time and effort, but I forced the Light to bend to my will quickly. It poured into Lucian almost as fast as it did to my Variants.

  Before the woman was halfway to us, Lucian raised his other hand over my shoulder. Finally, I could breathe properly.

  I heaved a few gasping breaths, my limbs trembling as the intense pressure of the cyclone released. My hand stayed tightly wrapped around Lucian’s wrist to maintain the flow of Light.

  He’d thrown up a shield. The wind and fire lashed against it angrily, revealing its invisible domelike shape.

  Smoke choked the air. The wind had whipped the flames into a furious blaze. People were coughing and spluttering, trying to move away from the woman and the fire.

  Lucian’s shield kept growing. I didn’t know how far it could expand, but it was the only thing we had at the moment, so I kept pumping him full of Light until we could figure out another way out of this. Several people got encased in his protective ability and scrambled closer to us. Some started trying to open the door, but it wasn’t budging.

  We only had half the people protected, and some of the others were starting to get burned. Their screams mingled with the deafening roar of the wind.

  The woman’s voice rang out, loud and clear over it all. “Give her to me!”

  If there had been any doubt she was after me, it was just smashed to pieces. People were dead because of me; they were getting hurt, injured, burned. How many more would die? Lucian couldn’t seem to make his shield expand farther, couldn’t reach the people on the other side of the room.

  Fear, desperation, and hopelessness constricted my throat like a noose. I looked around desperately for something, anything . . .

  My wide eyes locked on the gun that had slid past her. It was just out of my reach, but I didn’t hesitate. I dropped Lucian’s hand, hoping he could sustain the barrier for even a few moments, and lunged
for it.

  It was sticky with the dead man’s blood, but I lifted onto my knees and held it with both hands, just as Ty had shown me. I pointed it right at her chest—the easiest target for inexperienced shooters to hit—and pulled the trigger.

  The recoil threw me off balance, and I dropped one hand to the ground to steady myself, unable to follow through with another shot. By the time I recovered, the chaos had stopped.

  The woman stood in the middle of the café, a stunned look on her face as she clutched a spot just under her right breast. Blood oozed between her fingers.

  Moans of pain filled the café. Some people scrambled up and moved toward the door, which was barred with pretty much all the furniture in the building. Others remained frozen, watching the woman warily.

  Shouts and barked commands could be heard from outside. They would have access to us in a matter of moments.

  I kept my gun on her.

  “He’s never going to stop coming for you.” Her steady, if a little high-pitched, voice was directed to the ground. “Do you understand?” She looked up at me, her eyes wild. “He’s never going to stop.”

  I adjusted my grip on the weapon, ignoring the shuffling behind me as people shifted furniture away from the door. I kept my laser focus on her.

  “It’s better if you just . . .” Her free hand curled into a fist. Blood dripped from her wound onto the floor, and she swayed a little, widening her stance. “It’s better for all of us if you just . . . die.”

  Behind her, fire from the grill rose several feet into the air, then swirled toward me like a striking snake.

  The gun was snatched from my grip. Lucian pointed and fired. Unlike me, he knew how to handle a gun. He fired off three shots in quick succession—two to her chest and one to the head.

  The fire fizzled out inches from my face as the woman crumpled to the ground, dead.

  Despite his messy clothes and tangled hair from the gale-force winds, Lucian’s face was calm, determined. He lowered the weapon and looked at me.

  Melior Group agents streamed into the space from the newly cleared front door and the back of the building, guns raised, shouting orders.

  “Are you hurt?” Lucian’s sole focus was still me.

  I slumped against the side of his chair. “I don’t think so. But I don’t think I can walk just yet.” My voice was hoarse, and I dropped my head, taking deep breaths.

  Lucian’s hand went to the tangled mess at the back of my head—I didn’t look forward to brushing through that later—but he didn’t ask any more questions.

  The next few hours both dragged on painfully slowly and were a blur of activity. The guys showed up around the same time as the ambulances. Tyler’s black Escalade screeched to a halt at the curb, the doors opening before it had even fully stopped. They flocked to me like birds—big, muscled, tense, angry birds. But their hands were gentle, their kisses soft.

  Eventually the EMTs made them back away so they could check me for injuries. Alec lingered the longest, his hands on either side of my head, his forehead pressed to mine. He was in full gear now. I had no idea when he’d had time to put on the vest and strap all the weapons on.

  “Alec, I’m OK. Just let them check me so we can go home.”

  He kissed my forehead and leaned away. “You’re going to the hospital for a thorough check-up, but I have to stay here for a while. I . . .” He hesitated, but I could see the love in his eyes, could practically feel the words trying to tumble off his lips. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  He turned and walked away, his shoulders stiff. Kyo fell into step beside him, with Marcus and Jamie following close behind.

  As the EMTs started checking me for injuries, I turned to Tyler. “I didn’t know he was working today.”

  “He was on call. He’ll have to stay until things are finalized here.” Tyler cast his eyes over the scene, his brow creasing. The place was crawling with Melior Group operatives, as well as local police. “It’s good for us to have someone we trust on the ground anyway.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant by that. Couldn’t we trust anyone employed by Melior Group? Weren’t they all under Lucian’s orders and at Tyler’s beck and call? I kept my mouth shut; this wasn’t the best time to raise the issue.

  Lucian lost patience with the EMTs before I did, insisting he was fine and wheeling himself over to one of the senior police officers.

  Josh sighed. “I’ll go talk him into going home.”

  Law enforcement interviewed everyone while the street was still shut down. Businesses had been evacuated while we were still fighting for our lives inside. No one was permitted to return yet, but a crowd was gathering at both ends of the street, held back by police tape and armed men.

  When a news van rolled up, I groaned. Soon after that we left. We managed to convince Lucian to come with us, but he refused to go to the hospital. Despite the guys’ arguments, I insisted that if Lucian wasn’t going, neither was I. I just wanted a shower, something to eat, and the safety of home.

  Grudgingly, and with a cavalcade worthy of a president, Tyler drove us back to the mansion.

  “Food or shower first?” Ethan held my hand all the way home, up the stairs from the garage, and through the foyer. I really wanted a shower, but the mention of food had my stomach growling. It was well past lunchtime, and near-death situations really took it out of a girl.

  I tried not to dwell on the fact that I’d been in enough near-death situations to know that.

  Ethan was all too happy to feed us, whipping up some mac and cheese. We all slumped around the dining table. Lucian wheeled into his spot at the head, and Josh pulled me into his lap, crushing me to his chest.

  Tyler was on the phone, demanding updates and answering questions while Lucian threw in his two cents over his shoulder.

  As Ethan dropped bowls in front of us, Tyler hung up. “It’s confirmed. Our guys raided the woman’s apartment in Bradford Hills East and found all kinds of Variant Valor paraphernalia, including propaganda material. On her computer they also found some direct communication between her and some of Davis’s higher-ups. They’re discreetly telling some of their more zealous followers they need you.”

  He looked right at me, tired, resigned. Considering what she’d said, it wasn’t much of a surprise.

  I picked up my fork and started eating. The mac and cheese was delicious, as Ethan’s food always was—creamy and rich with little bits of bacon through it. Perfect comfort food.

  “Why did she try to kill me?” I asked my empty plate, interrupting whatever it was they were talking about. I’d tuned out, but now my food was gone; I couldn’t stop my brain from demanding answers.

  I looked into Tyler’s calm gray eyes. “At the end, after I shot her and she lost control of her ability, she said something about it being better for everyone if I just died, and then she came straight for me. If Davis needs me, why would she try to kill me?”

  Had we read the situation wrong?

  Tyler shared a loaded look with Lucian but didn’t try to evade the question. He was getting much better about the whole “keeping secrets to protect me” bullshit. “We also found some evidence that Variant Valor was threatening her family. I suspect she realized she was going to fail to capture you, that she was probably going to die, so she decided to kill you”—his eyes darkened and his hands curled into fists, making the roped muscles in his forearms twist—“in order to prevent others from going through what she was going through.”

  “He’s getting desperate.” Lucian took a sip of his whiskey.

  “He’s always been desperate. He’s just no longer hiding it as well as he used to,” Josh observed.

  Davis had been obsessed with my mother’s glowing Light for years. That fixation had driven his every decision. And now here I was—capable of even more—and I was just out of reach. There was no doubt in my mind he would do whatever he deemed necessary to get to me. My shoulders slumped. How many people had to die?

  I clear
ed my throat and pushed the despair deep down into a dark, soundless part of myself where I could avoid dealing with it a little longer, right between Zara’s betrayal and Alec’s undying love.

  “What was her ability exactly?” I gave my mind something else to think about. “I’ve never seen it before.”

  “It was a rare one,” Tyler answered. “She had the ability to control the elements. Not like Kid—she couldn’t conjure fire like he can, but she could control existing fire, water, air.”

  I thought back to how the liquids formed a ball to drown the agent, how the fire only came from the grill in the back.

  “It’s a bit of an evolutionary throwback.” Tyler had answered my question, but he was giving me what I needed—a distraction. “We’ve found that the types of abilities that manifest in Variants are sometimes affected by environmental factors. A lot of defensive abilities happen during periods of war and unrest, for example. And it’s only in the last thirty to forty years that we’ve started seeing things like being able to control electronics. That woman’s ability would’ve been incredibly useful a couple hundred years ago. Not that it wasn’t useful in this day and age, but back then, it could’ve been the difference between life and death.”

  “Yeah, I read a paper on this a while back in the Journal of Variant Studies. They looked specifically at never before reported abilities throughout history and were able to pinpoint a specific environmental factor that served as a trigger for each one. Doesn’t explain things like telekinesis”—I gestured to Josh—“or Alec’s pain ability though, so environment is clearly not the only factor.”

  “Definitely not,” Josh agreed. “Some abilities have been around since before recorded history and show no signs of disappearing. Genetics play a factor, but they’re still doing research on that.”

  Tyler, Josh, and I kept talking about Variant abilities and science for a while longer, but when I yawned three times in one sentence, Ethan pushed his chair back.

  “Let’s get you showered, baby.” He pulled me out of Josh’s lap, but before I could take two steps, he picked me up and held me to his chest.