Courage (Mark of Nexus) (2 page)

I hovered in mid-air, staring down at clouds in the nighttime sky. They'd emerged from behind a familiar building and formed a thick purple wall around me. Silent, still, and oppressing. One by one, they began to pull like spun cotton…

“Watch,
” someone whispered.

All at once, the sound kicked in. Howling and roaring. It was the wind. It was me, and I was…nowhere.

A flash below stole my attention. Sparks. A fire emboldened by too-perfect conditions. I swept toward it, then around it, shattering windows in my wake. There was a scream somewhere, but I couldn't focus.

Movement—a three-headed shadow, running in the opposite direction.

“Wait!” I tried to yell, but there was nothing. No one. Just the wrath of Mother Nature and my soul in perpetual motion.

We tore the roof from the familiar building and sent bricks sailing into the night. Everything blurred so fast, so intensely, I didn't have time for an escape plan. Around and around I went, until the wind changed direction.

Shit, shit…

I was going to crash into another building. A bigger one. It grew larger in my field of vision, concrete and unyielding. A few more seconds and—

My eyes snapped open.

“Rena?” Wallace asked, bending to look me in the face. “Are you okay?”

I sucked in a lungful of air and struggled to control the anxiety growing within me.
What the hell?
Every time I blinked, I rejoined the storm. It was like catching glimpses of an old movie, the frames jumping in slow motion, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. “No…”

He dropped his hands from my shoulders, incredulous. “No? What’s wrong?”

I shut my eyes and took another breath to answer, but the same building obscured my vision. Before I could reorient myself, my soul tore through it, and silence stole the air.

“What?”

I pried my lids apart and stumbled back. Without Wallace's arms anchoring me, I tripped over my own feet and fell back against something hard.
Pain.
I couldn’t move; I couldn’t explain the terror coursing through my veins. It was too much, too fast.

“Rena, what’s going on?” His worried voice cut through my panting. “Tell me how to help.”

“I don’t know,” I whispered, focusing solely on him for the first time in minutes. “Honestly, I don't.”

His clean, heady scent lulled my senses as his frantic gaze searched mine. He’d caught me. When I’d started to fall, he’d grabbed me. We were still in the hallway, the dance flyer lying at our feet, and nothing had changed.

Except me.

“What were you so afraid of?” he asked in a quiet voice, helping me regain my footing. We both knew he’d lost focus in his haste to save me. There’d be bruises on my back later.

I looked up, and to my dismay, sounded just as small as I felt. “The storm.”

“What storm?” He straightened. “It's not doing anything outside, is it?”

“No, not here. I was…I was caught in a storm in my mind. I couldn't escape.”

He furrowed his brows. “How could you…?” I watched as his eyes softened with understanding. “Gail.”

Gail is Wallace’s cousin and a major proponent of Project ERA—a group of Dynari hell-bent on forcibly evolving humans. Seriously. It’s right there in the acronym.
Evolution requires action.
They've spent the past however many years preparing to establish a new order, and a few months ago, we kind of got in their way…

“This must be her sick way of summoning you, on Faye's behalf. Did you see anything else?”

I shook my head, nauseated at the mere thought of their invitation. I’d been forced into a deal with Gail’s grandmother Faye, the woman pulling the strings behind Project ERA. In exchange for Wallace’s life, I’d agreed to take part in her scientific study. She had an interest in the Mark of Nexus, and as long as she did, there was little chance of her coming after us again.

“No directions or anything?” he asked.

I blew out a sigh and shut my eyes for the briefest of seconds, catching a splash of color. “Something red.”

“What is it?” He looked both ways to make sure no one was coming and leaned in. “I’ve got you now. It’s okay.”

I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to his chest. “183 Terrace Drive,” I read aloud, flinching. “Cleveland.”

“So…” He smoothed my hair away from my face, his fingers toying with a blonde strand before he let it go. “What do you want to do?”

I bent down, snatched the flyer off the floor, and tacked it back on the board. “We don’t have much of a choice, do we? We have to go.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but shook his head and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Then let’s get it over with.”

“The sooner, the better,” I muttered, making for the lobby. We had a good forty-minute drive ahead of us, and now that I knew my Saturday was going to be spent getting poked and prodded, I wanted it out of the way. So, off we went, like good little test subjects.

We barely spoke in the car, both lost to our own musings. By the time he finally pulled up to the clinic, my stomach was ready to reject the Pop-Tart we’d split on the way there. The building that housed R.S. Tobler Laboratories’ pro bono clinic was an impressive sight to behold. Not only was it a mammoth homage to modern architecture, with large-scale windows and curved, sweeping lines, but it was in the part of the city we were least likely to get knifed on the street. Talk about pricey real estate.

When we got out of the car, I grabbed his hand. It was probably the first time I
was in danger of bruising him for all the exertion I put into it, but I needed him beside me. If I had to walk into the lion’s den like it was no big deal, the nervous energy had to go somewhere.

He brushed a kiss at my hairline. “You’re going to be fine.”

“And if I’m not?”

His lips tilted upward with that stupid, testosterone-driven confidence of his. “I’ll be there. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Oh, that’s right. People with superpowers don’t have to worry about these things.” I made a face as we headed for the entrance. “Tell me, how do you feel about tights?”

The doors slid apart, and he pulled me closer before stepping inside. “If that’s what does it for you, I’ll consider it.”

I lifted my hand, ready to slap him, but froze when someone called out to us.

“Welcome to the RSTL free clinic!” A man wearing a silver button-up shirt and purple tie stood, lowering the mouthpiece on his headset. “What can I help you two with? Shots? Exams?” He lowered his voice and raised his eyebrows. “Do you need to get tested?”

He must’ve read the question mark on my face, because he hissed, “STDs!”

That got everyone in the lobby’s attention. Our ordeal had just become more entertaining than outdated magazines.

“No, thank you,” Wallace replied, looking unbothered despite the fact that his ears were red. “We’re here to see Faye Tobler.” He paused for a moment and scrunched his face. “Or Gail. Whichever.”

The man straightened, and his almond eyes grew round. “You’re Mr. Blake?” he asked, regarding us like we were suddenly a part of the Pope’s entourage. “And Ms. Collins?”

“That’s us,” I said, squirming as everyone continued to stare. “I guess we have an appointment?”

He gave a quick nod and hurried around the front desk. “Please, follow me.”

I wasn’t sure if his sudden professionalism was a good thing or not, but I could tell by his face we were about to find out. He led us to a gold elevator and instructed us to go down to the lower level. Once there, we were to turn right and follow the hallway until we got to a reception area. Someone would meet us there.

What a formal way of saying, 'Get in the basement.'

We did as we were told and made our way down, hand in hand, to the lit desk around the corner. This time, a woman took care of us, ushering us toward a security checkpoint. Oh, and by security, I don’t mean rent-a-cops like the ones that man our dorms back at school. I mean big burly dudes, standing with their arms crossed in front of one of those machines like you'd see at the airport.

Just keep going. Get it over with.

If this was what it took to keep Wallace’s psychotic family appeased, I was willing to jump through a few hoops. Better than another throw-down in the wilderness. I started to untie my shoelaces, and one of the men reached forward.

Wallace angled a protective shoulder in front of me. “Look, I’m Wallace Blake. This is Rena Collins. We were called here. We showed up. We’re not going through some song and dance for everyone’s amusement.”

The man’s lip curled back, barely masking a snarl. “I know who you are, but this is a safety measure, Mr. Blake. No exceptions.”

Wallace’s expression darkened. “If you know who I am, you know better than to let this get out of hand.”

I watched the man swallow before he fiddled with his radio. “Fine. Whatever. It’s your head if it upsets her.”

Her being Faye or Gail?

I didn’t have time to ask before Wallace tugged on my arm and dragged me down the hallway. I was pretty sure he didn’t know where he was going, but it was better than provoking a couple of potentially armed guards. Super strength or not, he couldn’t stop bullets with his chest.

Probably.

“Did you just blow your cover?” I asked, trying not to trip over the laces I’d barely retied. For every measured stride he took, I trotted three paces to keep up. Mr. Aggressive was hot, but why was he in such a damn hurry?

He shook his head, eyes locked on the darkened doorway at the end of the hall. “They were terrified the second we got off the elevator. They know what I am.”

“Aren’t there rules against telling people?”

“Unspoken ones.” His jaw tensed. “But rules go out the window when you’re bent on taking over the world.”

My brows drew together. “What if they tell?”

“Did you forget my ability so soon?” Gail’s voice slipped out from the darkness as she emerged. “Men of that caliber are easily manipulated. You shouldn’t concern yourself with disposables.”

“Speaking of manipulation,” I muttered under my breath. “What was that summons about?”

A thin smile stretched her lips, and light reflected off her lenses. “Consider that a trailer. Shall we proceed to the next part of our tour?”

Did she learn that in Scare Tactics 101? I wanted to roll my eyes. “Do we have a choice?”

“Of course not.” Gail sauntered over to a huge vault encased in the wall, her dark curls bouncing atop her head. “Most people are under the impression that this is where we keep the funds.”

She pressed her hand to a lit panel for clearance, and then pulled down on the handle with everything her meager weight could afford her. “But this”—she grunted as the heavy door creaked open, revealing a dark staircase—”is the entrance to The Underground.” 

“You have got to be shitting me,” I said as we made our way down another narrow passage. The place was a labyrinth, with just enough turns to make someone second-guess their escape plans. There was no obvious lighting, only an eerie glow that ran along both sides of the floor.

In fact, the farther we ventured into Project ERA’s headquarters, the more of a bluish tint everything took on. Even Wallace. Between the glow of his irises and the cool, shadowed tones tugging at his features, he looked downright lethal.

His apprehension knotted inside me as we followed Gail down the hall. He didn’t like the confinement any more than I did. This far under the clinic, no one would hear a cry for help, and I was almost positive our phones wouldn’t work. It’d been easy for him to joke around upstairs, back when there’d been hope of a normal visit, but now we were in The Underground. The place hope went to die.

“Stay close,” he mumbled, but I could tell his attention was elsewhere. His grip on my hand tightened as we rounded the next corner, and I had to stifle a whimper.

“Wallace…” I strained against him as the fragile bones in my hand trembled under the pressure. “Baby, you’re hur—”

“Huh?” He looked down, distracted until he realized what was going on. “Sorry!” His hand jerked away from mine so fast, you would’ve thought I’d burned him.

“Here we are,” Gail announced, coming to an abrupt halt before a gigantic entrance. She fiddled around with another panel, and the metal doors ground apart with a low, mechanical groan. “The labs.”

Goodie.
I shielded my eyes as we followed her into a lit area, and my nose immediately burned with the scent of disinfectant. Everything was white. Institution white. People hurried down the halls wearing lab coats and stern expressions, going about their business like we weren’t even there. Were we supposed to believe they came in through the vault, too? Somehow, I doubted it.

Straight back, I could make out an empty waiting room with padded chairs and fish tanks. It was just like any other office, aside from the revolutionary fever in the air.

Gail stopped by the main desk long enough to speak with a woman in scrubs. “Rena, we’ll need you to head into that room over there and put on a gown.”

I followed her gaze and caught sight of a door situated in the adjacent hallway. My heart gave a little jolt, and I shot Wallace a panicked look.

He nodded. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

“Well, I’ll be right
inside
the door,” a familiar voice quipped from behind us. “I want to see the show.”

Gail’s eyes seemed to ignite as she focused on the person over my shoulder. “How the hell do you keep getting in here?”

I spun around. “Cole?”

He gave us a smug grin, fingers hooked in his belt loops as he rocked back on his heels. “I have my ways.”

“Which entail what?” Wallace asked his brother, suspicion edging into his tone. Cole, being the morally bankrupt wonder that he is, sees everything as means to an end and shrugs off the consequences. His ‘ways’ could mean almost anything.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cole said, waving him off. “I’m here to support my sis. That’s all.”

Wallace blew out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “I thought I told you to stop calling her that.”

“Did you? I don’t recall.”

It was always weird to see the Blake brothers side by side. They may be twins, but they’re far from identical. Cole has a buzz cut and dark, piercing eyes, whereas Wallace wears his hair in a faux hawk and has the bluest eyes on the planet. Body-wise, Wallace is taller and more muscular, but Cole seems the more dangerous of the two.

Despite that charming, sociopathic grin, he gives off this cross-me-and-I’ll-cut-out-your-tongue vibe. Needless to say, I’m glad to have him on our side for the time being—pretend sis or not.

“Whatever,” Gail cut in, adjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. “We’re wasting time. You two go find a seat in the waiting area. I promise, Pet Human will be fine.”

I bit my lip to suppress a burst of profanity. Freakish amounts of effort were going into my compliance, fueled by the memory of Wallace nearly dying in my arms. This bitch could goad me all day long. I wasn’t going to provoke war by punching her. Again.

Wallace stiffened, no doubt sensing my frustration. “Cole, go sit in the waiting room. I’m staying with her.”

“Oh no, you’re not,” Gail said, puffing up in an attempt to stare down her six-foot-four cousin—losing by a good eight inches.
Pathetic.
I stare him down every day, and he’s got more than a foot on me. “I’m not going to deal with your constant interference. When Mother gets here, she’ll run a few tests, and that’ll be that. This will simply become a standing, monthly appointment. That is, unless you wish for me to summon Pet Human again…”

I cracked my knuckles. “Unless you want me to hit you again, I suggest you ease up on the nickname.”

Her nostrils flared, and for a second, I thought she was going to slap me. Instead, she smoothed her hands down the front of her pants and looked around, making sure no one was watching. “I’m going to tell you one last time,” she stated, addressing Wallace though her eyes never left me. “Go sit down, or I'll move you there myself. I don’t believe you were pleased with the outcome last time I took over.”

Oh, of course. Little miss mind hijacker
had
to bring that up.

Wallace’s tough exterior softened and guilt poured into my psyche. “I…”

“It’s fine,” I said, lifting my chin. “I’ll come get you when they’re finished.”

He hesitated, brushing his fingers over my wrist. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” It wasn’t like I had a choice. “Besides, someone has to watch Cole, or he’ll start a fire.”

“I heard that,” Cole called over his shoulder.

“I didn’t say it in my mind,” I snapped back, ready to get the whole thing over with. “If you guys will excuse me, I have a gown to put on.” And with that, I straightened my spine and took clipped steps toward the door—knowing if I lost even a little momentum, I’d lose my nerve and run out screaming.

It was time to fulfill my end of the bargain.

The exam room was drafty.

It might've been the fact that we were underground, but I figured it had something to do with my ass hanging out of their paper-thin gown. Some ERA minion had come in to do basic check-up stuff—she’d even taken me to get a bone density test—but now I was alone, pacing, waiting for Gail’s mother.

Apparently, they want to see if my bones were getting stronger as an effect of the Nexus. Something about my body adjusting to complement Wallace’s. Really, I was just shocked at their nonchalance. When I first found out about the Dynari, Cole threatened to kill me if I told anyone. What had Faye and Gail done to desensitize these people and ensure their silence?

“—one is she in?” I heard a muffled voice ask outside my door.

Papers were shuffled, footsteps fell closer, and then there was silence. I blinked, moving closer to the door. Was that Gail’s mother? My eyes scanned the room for something, anything to use as a weapon. Just in case.

“Wait a second,” a second voice insisted. Gail’s.

Murmured questions I couldn’t decipher followed, making me creep even closer to the door.
Damn it.
What were they saying? I held my breath and gripped the handle, twisting it so slowly it barely made a sound.

The women were close, but not right outside the door. I pulled it open a crack.

“—went to see Edwin, again,” the first woman said. “There’s more than I can discuss here, but we’ve located the, uh…
shipment.
It's due to arrive next weekend.”

What shipment? And wasn’t Wallace’s great-grandfather—the one he got his middle name from—Edwin?

“Have you verified its capabilities?”

“Not yet, but once it gets here, you should keep your distance as a precaution.”

That sounds like a weapon. A big, imported weapon.

“Where's Faye?”

The first woman paused. “She had a luncheon with the governor this afternoon.”

“Again?”

“Your grandparents have to make the necessary connections, Gail.”

More footsteps. Coming my way.

My eyes shot open wide, and I lunged to throw myself back atop the exam table—misjudging the distance by a solid foot. I flew over the waxy, paper-coated surface in slow motion, my heart pounding in my ears. For a moment, there was nothing under me, only the whispered caress of central air.

And then I hit the wall.

I couldn’t contain my cry as time caught up with me on the floor. The door banged open and shut, but I couldn’t move. My shoulder burned, having scraped down the wall, and I could already feel a knot forming at my temple.
Ugh.
I’d eaten so many of those damn blueberries last week, hoping I wouldn’t bruise so easily—hoping
my boyfriend
wouldn’t bruise me so easily—and now I’d gone and done it myself. Fantastic.

“Are you all right?”

I looked over my shoulder at the woman who’d appeared behind the exam table, and her forehead wrinkled.
Huh? Oh shit. Backless gown.
I twisted around, got caught on a power cord, and shoved my bare ass against the wall. “I'm fine. Just turn around for a second.”

“Nonsense,” she said, reaching down to grab my arm. “I’m a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen bef—”

The door handle twisted, and something cracked the frame.
Please, please don't be who I think you are…

She shrieked, and I scrambled to my feet, holding the back of my gown.

Wallace stood panting in the doorway, his gaze roaming the room as he dropped the door in the hall with a heavy thud. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

I closed my eyes and swallowed.
This is not happening
. I opened my eyes, but he was still there, working himself into a panic.

“I tried to hop up on the exam table,” I explained, omitting the part about it being a narrow escape. “I kind of slid over it and ran into the wall…”

His brows furrowed, and he cocked his head to the side. “But…you’re okay?”

I forced an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I should be done here shortly.”

As if on cue, the woman cleared her throat and extended a hand to Wallace. “Elise Frasier. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

So it
was
her. Mid-forties, painted face, and penciled eyebrows. If Gail started caring about her appearance, this could be her in twenty years.

“Wallace Blake.” He carefully returned the gesture, suspicion narrowing his eyes. “You're Gail's mother?”

“That's right.” She turned and met my gaze with a knowing smile. “And you must be Rena.”

Why did I have a bad feeling about this?