Unremembered (Unremembered #1)(62)

Beep.

Cody and I peer at the screen simultaneously.

Maxxer: I can help.

I gasp and glance around the coffee shop, fully expecting to see the man from the photograph sitting at the next table, listening in on our conversation. How else would he know what I was saying?

But no one looks even vaguely familiar. Nor does anyone seem to be paying attention to us.

Beep.

Maxxer: But first . . . I think someone else is trying to get in touch with you.

Cody and I exchange another look as an eerie silence falls between us.

I start counting the seconds. I can’t help myself.

Before I reach five, the silence is broken by the shrill ring of my stolen cellphone.





36


WANTS


‘Are you going to answer it?’ Cody asks, nudging me with his elbow.

I shake my head numbly as I stare down at the ringing cellphone on the table. The screen is illuminated with the words Caller Unknown.

‘Aren’t you curious?’ he prods.

With trembling hands, I reach out and pick it up. I press the green button and bring it to my ear.

‘Hello?’ I squeak.

‘Sera.’

These two syllables send an ice-cold prickle all over my skin. The voice is male. Rough. Cruel. He doesn’t have to say anything else. Hearing him pronounce my name is enough to make the connection. It’s the voice I keep hearing in my dreams.

The dark stranger.

The man I saw through the glass ceiling of the ocean as I panicked and struggled for air.

Alixter.

Zen said he was the president of Diotech.

The most abominable man in existence.

And now he’s here. On the other side of this call.

‘Who is this?’ I ask, wanting to be sure. And at the same time, praying that I’m wrong.

A tsk comes through the phone. ‘I’m so disappointed that you don’t remember my voice. It’s your dear friend Alixter, of course. Your raison d’être.’

Raison d’être: reason to be, or, reason for being.

I guess I can add French to the list of languages I speak.

‘It’s nice to hear your voice again,’ he says.

A knot forms in my stomach. My chest convulses and that acidy bile fills my mouth again. I swallow it down.

‘Although,’ he continues, ‘I do wish it were under different circumstances. You can imagine I’m not very happy about having to come all the way here to get you.’ He sighs. ‘But alas, it is what it is.’

I have only one question to ask him and so I don’t waste any time. ‘Do you have Zen?’

He chuckles. It’s a cold, callous sound that makes my ears ring. ‘Wow, you really do have a one-track mind, don’t you?’

It doesn’t matter that he didn’t answer the question. I already know the answer is yes. ‘Where is he?’ I demand. ‘Is he alive?’

‘He’s perfectly safe.’ There’s a long, dead pause. ‘For now.’

‘Please don’t hurt him.’ I wish I had the strength to yell, make all sorts of angry threats and demands. But really the only thing I’m capable of is pathetic begging.

‘Well, that depends,’ Alixter says.

‘On what?’

‘On you.’

The knot in my stomach tightens and then doubles in size. When I don’t reply he keeps talking. ‘It’s you I want, Sera. Not him. You’re the trillion-dollar investment. And he’s . . . Well, he’s just the fool who fell in love with you.’

My forehead burns with the memory of Zen’s touch. The mark he left. It’s as permanent on my skin as this tattoo.

‘I can’t say I blame him,’ Alixter goes on. ‘You are . . . quite breathtaking.’

I close my eyes and fight to regain my composure. But my entire body is shivering.

When he speaks again, his voice is lighter. More casual. But it still chills me to the bone. ‘Which is why I’m willing to negotiate a trade.’

‘A trade?’ I ask, and I feel Cody stiffen beside me. ‘What kind of trade?’

‘Well, you for him, of course,’ he replies swiftly.

‘I agree,’ I reply immediately.

He laughs. ‘You may be the smartest human being on the planet, but you’re not a very good negotiator, are you?’

I ignore his insult. ‘Just tell me where you are.’

‘See,’ he says, sounding very proud of himself, ‘I told my agents that it would be so much easier to let you come to us, instead of them chasing you all around the state, making idiots of themselves and leaving behind nothing but a trail of messes to clean up. And I was right. You are willing to come to us. You just needed the right . . . motivator.’

‘Tell me where you are!’ I scream into the phone, causing a few people to turn and stare. I lower my head.

‘Patience,’ he soothes in a voice that’s far from soothing. ‘Good things come to those who wait. Isn’t that how the saying goes? Although I’m not sure how much I believe that any more. After all, I waited five long years for you to come into my life and then you simply deserted me.’

I don’t reply. I’m not going to play into his taunting any more. I have a feeling he’s enjoying it far too much.