Strength (Mark of Nexus #1) (24 page)

She squinted out at us, and her eyes widened. “Good heavens! You’re all soaking wet. Get in here before you catch a cold.” She disappeared, and a light flicked on behind her, casting a long rectangle onto the porch.

Cole gestured for me to go ahead while his brother held the door open.
Great.
Not only was I imposing on the old woman, now I had to make a mud puddle on her floor.

I stepped inside and moved over, making room. To my relief, the floors were hardwood, and the entryway was covered with a mat. I took my boots off, and then edged away from the wet spot.

The other two trudged in behind me and when the door slammed shut, the house shuddered. We stood in what I assumed to be the living room, beside a floral print couch that faced the television. The place smelled like roses and coffee and…a hint of Estee Lauder.

“Look at you kids,” she said, clicking her tongue. Though she had the telltale hunch of osteoporosis, she stood a few inches taller than me—and her fluffed white curls added another two on top of that. “We’re going to have to get those clothes in the dryer.”

I straightened. “Um…”

Wallace kicked his boots off and moved to present me. “Grandma, this is Rena Collins. Rena, this is Clara Blake.”

Clara’s weathered face pinched with wrinkles and laugh lines. “Why, hello there!”

“N-Nice to meet you.” I plastered on a smile and reached out my hand. Who on earth could threaten this woman’s life? She was practically a Golden Girl.

She latched on, closing her other hand around mine. “You too, dear. I tell you, they never bring friends around anymore. It gets pretty lonesome in this house all by myself, day after day.” Her blue eyes twinkled as she pulled her lips back even further. “Please, make yourself at home. I can lend you something while we get your clothes dry.”

“Oh, uh...” I looked up at Wallace for help, unsure of what to say.

“Actually, I was wondering if we could stay,” he began, rubbing at the back of his neck. “There are a few things we need to discuss.”

“Well, honey, I already figured you would. Why don’t you boys run along and change now?” She marched toward the hallway, beckoning me over her shoulder. “Just follow Grandma Clara, Rena. We’ll get you all set up.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I cast a panicked look over my shoulder as I scampered to catch up with her. The night kept getting weirder and weirder.

And I had a feeling it was far from over.

Chapter Twenty-Six

“It
does
look lovely on you!” Clara clasped her hands together as I emerged from the bathroom.

The flowing white nightgown brushed my hips as I padded across the carpet. She’d said the thing had been tucked away for forty years, and I believed her. Between the dated neckline and the soft lace trim, I felt like I’d stepped straight out of the silver screen. Or at least, Goodwill. “Thanks.”

“Don’t think a thing of it,” she said, easing herself down onto the edge of the bed. “Do you feel better?”

I did. I’d showered and changed my neck dressing before slipping into the nightgown. She’d had everything laid out for me, like a perfect hostess. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Enough with the ma’am business.” She chortled, waving me off. “Call me Clara or Grandma.”

I nodded, running my palms down the front of the smooth material. What was I supposed to do now? Was she waiting for me to explain what’d happened earlier? I didn’t know where to begin.

“I spoke with Wallace while you were in the shower,” she said. “There’s no need to feel nervous.”

I froze. She knew about the threat, and she was still this calm? “I’m not nerv—”

Clara tapped her head with a knowing smile.

“Oh.” I dropped my shoulders, the moment sweeping past on an exhale. Was I that transparent?

She lifted her brows, still waiting for something.

“What?”

Another second passed before it finally hit me. The gesture had referred to more than just women’s intuition. She was
one of them
.

“Oh,” I repeated, taking a step back. “So, you’re…I didn’t know which side he got his…”
Way to represent human intelligence, genius.

“Yes, I am a Dynari. Has my grandson told you of my abilities?”

I shook my head, too flustered to speak.

Her eyes creased in a thoughtful expression, and she patted the spot beside her. “Like Wallace, I am an empath, but my ability is more—shall we say—mature. I feel the present emotions of others, but I also sense the emotions they leave behind. That is my major gift.”

The room swayed, and I sank down onto the bed. “Are there minor gifts?”

“Perceptive of you. Yes, there are minor, complementary gifts that accompany the major.”

“I see,” I said, trying to remain calm. Next thing, she’d probably tell me she was telepathic or something. I flashed my eyes in her direction, swallowing.
You can’t hear me, can you?

“I can’t read your mind, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said. “I can only sense you’re upset, and understandably so. You must feel as if your whole world has been turned upside down tonight.”

She didn’t know how right she was.

“Would you rather talk about something else?” She put a comforting hand on my shoulder, reminding me of my own grandmother—sans the penchant for bingo and wine coolers.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’m already in this far. I want to understand it.”

“Very well.” She leaned back, bracing herself on her hands. “First, I should mention it’s my theory that, in our family, traces of ability reoccur in every other generation. Sometimes it manifests as a minor gift, sometimes it’s just a natural propensity, but it’s always there in some amount.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, look at the boys. Wallace possesses a portion of my ability; he can sense the emotions of others. Nicholas, on the other hand, mirrors the rapid healing ability of my late sister, Faye.”

“O-Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your sister,” I stammered, lowering my voice. “I didn’t know.”

She met my gaze with unwavering understanding. “You couldn’t have known, Rena. It was nearly forty-seven years ago.” A sigh escaped her thin lips, and she glanced across the room. “She was working overseas on a humanitarian mission and…found herself in the crossfire of civil unrest. Things were different back then. We weren’t informed until after she’d already been buried.”

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, unsure of what else to say. Her eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and I didn’t want to provoke them to fall. “That’s terrible.”

After a moment, she patted my leg. “Having gifts doesn’t make you immortal. Even with her healing ability, it must’ve been too much for her to bear. Freddie was just…” She shook her head. “No. It won’t do us any good to pore over ancient memories. Do you have any questions for me?”

I thought about it for a moment, recalling what happened in the alley. “Have you ever known Wallace to project his feelings?”

She blinked as she considered the notion. “What do you mean? Did you sense him?”

Okay, now I felt stupid. “No. Well, I thought I did, but I probably just imagined it. You know, since I was trying to deal with all of the information and…” I ran a hand back through my hair, thankful I’d taken the time to dry it thoroughly. “Never mind.”

“You know, I’ve never seen him so protective of another being,” she mused, her placid expression unnerving. “And to think, he said you two have only been acquainted for a few weeks. Perhaps you’re kindred spirits.”

A burst of nervous laughter escaped my lips. “I don’t know about that, Clara.”

“Who are we to question the workings of fate?” she asked, her lips curving upward.

I couldn’t help but smile back. The woman was relentless. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Then indulge me a little longer.” She picked at a thread on her bedspread. “While I have you here, I want to thank you.”

“Why?”

She leaned in, dropping her tone. “He’s kept himself so distant since
that
incident—never allowing himself to touch anyone, for fear of hurting them. He hasn’t hugged me since he was a boy, and I am far from human, myself. I was worried he’d never find someone to confide in.”

My face grew warm. “I, uh…”

Wait.
She knew about Wallace killing the drunk?

“There’s another thing I want to say while I’m at it,” she continued. “I apologize for Nicholas’ behavior. He’s always been overly zealous in his pursuits. Try as I might, I can never shake enough sense into that boy.”

My fingers instinctively found the bandage at my neck, tracing the gauzy patch. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“He knows better than that.” She shook her head, looking surprisingly stern. “I didn’t raise him to act this way.”

“You can’t blame yourself for what he does now. He’s a grown man. He’s making his own choices.” I crossed my legs and looked around. “Besides, it’s over now.”

“Is it?” She pushed down on the mattress as she stood. “Well, then, I’ve kept you long enough. Why don’t you go downstairs and keep Wallace company while I fix a little something to eat?”

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I sprang up as she went into the bathroom and gathered my wet clothes for the dryer. “I could—”

“Go on,” she urged, nodding toward the hallway. “It’s that second door on the right, as you’re walking toward the living room.”

I took a few steps and hesitated in the doorway. “Thanks, Clara. For everything...”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Wallace?” I called, looking both ways as I reached the bottom of the stairs. The basement was an open, studio space, offering mismatched furniture, faded sports posters, and very few signs of life. There were two desks off to the left, but no one occupying them.

I turned right, moving toward the beds along the far wall. They had to be here somewhere. “Guys?”

“Had to grab a quick shower,” a muffled voice called.

I jumped back as a door creaked open. “What?”

Wallace appeared in the doorway, rubbing a towel over his head. He shot me a lopsided grin as he strode across the room. “Nice dress.”

“It’s a nightgown,” I muttered, my eyes tracing his every move.

He seemed unfazed by the fact that he was standing in front of me, shirtless, rifling through a beat-up dresser. Taut cords of muscle flexed and shifted as he moved, definitive lines disappearing beneath the band of his pajama pants. “Uh huh.”

My skin felt unbearably tight as I stood there, staring. He looked completely out of place—a man dwarfing an adolescent backdrop. I swallowed and shook my head. It was just Wallace. My friend. My—

“I know staying here makes things a little awkward,” he said, misinterpreting my anxiety. “But it’s just one night.” He scrunched a t-shirt up his arms and jerked it over his head. “I’ll figure something out tomorrow.”

What was he saying?
Damn it.
How was I supposed to concentrate with that bump and grind music in my head? “It’s fine,” I lied, hoping to change the subject. “So, where’s Cole?”

He chuckled under his breath, turning to toss his towel in the hamper. “Grandma has him cleaning the garage.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, she wasn’t too happy with what happened.” He gestured for me to have a seat. “She’s the only person he’ll listen to. I think that’s why he moved out. So he didn’t have to feel guilty about what he was doing.”

I sat on the bed in the corner, crossing one leg over the other. “What was he doing?”

He blew out a sigh and plopped down on the other bed, facing me. “Uh…”

“I’m already in this far,” I reminded him.

His expression tightened, and I noticed the broken skin around his left eye. It was still a little swollen from his bout in the alley, but I wasn’t going to bring it up.

“I guess you could say he’s become some kind of vigilante, taking the law into his own hands.” He paused, leaning back on the bed. “Sometimes he goes out at night, looking to pick fights with drunks or thugs or whatever. He gets some kind of a high off it, like it’s his duty to teach them a lesson.”

“Wait.” I leaned forward, my face serious. “Cole thinks he’s Batman?”

That got a grin out of him. “Yeah, he says he’s doing the world a favor by using his speed to keep these guys down. He doesn’t get that it’s wrong.”

“So, why doesn’t someone say something to him?” I played with the lace at my hem. “Someone other than me, because I’ve already tried to tackle him once tonight.”

“You tackled him?”

“Tried to,” I corrected, holding up my scraped elbow as evidence. “Didn’t go over well.”

He put his face in his hands. “Do you have any concept of self-preservation at all?”

“Not really.” I shrugged, crossing my legs the other way. “But go on.”

“Well, to answer your question, I did say something.” He looked up, tracing the scar along his jaw. “About a month ago, Cole talked me into going with him on one of his runs. I know I shouldn’t have been curious about the whole thing, but I wanted to see what he’d been up to every night. It didn’t even seem that bad until I started having flashbacks.”