Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  With a loud gasp, Miriya released her breath. Danyael could not just heal with a touch. He could also kill with a touch.

  The other creatures halted their attack, staring at the corpse with shock and horror. Brother…Brother. The wail began, an aching howl that echoed among the creatures. Humans kill…Kill humans…Kill humans now…No, leave now.

  Miriya did not know which creature issued the order, but as one, they all turned and loped away, cutting across the lawn and vanishing into shadows as they neared the tree line. As suddenly as the attack had begun, it was over.

  Only Danyael’s pained, harsh breathing punctuated the silence.

  Lucien looked up at the young woman on the balcony who had fired the weapon. “Xin. Call the police; tell them what happened and that those things are on the loose somewhere in this neighborhood. Under no circumstances are the police permitted inside the house.” He pushed past Miriya, and knelt by Danyael, supporting the mutant as he slowly tried to rise. “Danyael. Are you all right?”

  Lucien grimaced as Danyael coughed up blood with such force that he staggered and would have fallen if not for Lucien’s grip on him. “Damn,” Lucien cursed aloud. “Help me get him to his room.”

  “No, wait. Carlos…” Danyael looked over his shoulder at the older man who had been torn apart by the creature and was curled in a rapidly growing pool of blood.

  “Someone else will have to get to him.”

  “Not enough time,” Danyael insisted.

  Zara raced past them and knelt to gather the dying man in her arms. “Hang in there.” She pressed her hand against Carlos’s torn chest and glanced over her shoulder at Danyael. “Help him!”

  Danyael dropped to his knees beside Carlos. His face was pale, his breathing labored. Miriya watched, stunned. How much damage had Danyael sustained? How much more was he planning to take on, damage that he would then have to work through on his own, without help from anyone?

  Her eyes widened as he touched Carlos. The psychic glow of Danyael’s empathic healing powers was weak, faint. It spluttered, rising and falling with every pained breath. It flowed out of him ungrudgingly, but it was a trickle compared to the powerful surge that had kept his friends alive through the fight. Apparently, his healing capability was limited by how much he could endure, and he could not absorb any more. His body had been pushed past all limits of human endurance. Any more, and his own life would be at risk.

  Carlos gasped, choking on the blood rapidly filling his lungs. He reached out, grasping Zara’s hands, clinging on to her like a lifeline. The rapid gush of blood slowed but did not stop, as Danyael’s powers trickled through the ravaged body. The open, raw wounds did not close. Carlos’s breath rattled in his throat, a weak, dying gurgle.

  Zara glared at Danyael. “Why aren’t you healing him?”

  “I…can’t anymore,” Danyael whispered in quiet defeat. He slumped into Lucien’s supporting arms, shuddering as he turned his face away. A cough racked his body. He convulsed, spitting blood—dark and viscous—into his hand.

  “That’s not good enough.” Zara grabbed his shirt with two hands and shook him hard until Lucien intervened by pushing her back. “You cower, you hide through the entire fight, and now when he needs your help, you can’t come through for him?”

  Danyael paused and looked at Zara. Pain filled his dark eyes before he squeezed them shut. His teeth gritted, he reached out to Carlos once more.

  Lucien held him back. “Enough,” he said.

  Zara gripped Carlos’s hand. “He is dying!”

  Lucien pulled Danyael away. “I’m not going to let my best friend kill himself trying to save Carlos. He’s done here. Galahad, give me a hand.”

  Galahad moved to Danyael’s other side, and together the two men helped Danyael into the house.

  Moments later, Miriya watched as Carlos died in Zara’s arms. Zara choked back a sob as she leaned over Carlos’s body and closed his eyes. The virulence of her thoughts, targeted against Danyael, caused Miriya to recoil. He’s pathetic, weak, Zara’s mental voice spiked with fury. He let Carlos die.

  Ungrateful bitch! Miriya spun on her heel, ready to knock some sense into Zara but was halted by Danyael’s voice speaking quietly in her mind.

  Not her fault. Mine. With those weary words, Danyael’s mental voice trailed into exhausted silence.

  Miriya reached into Zara’s unshielded mind without permission, flicking quickly through images captured forever in her memories. She saw Danyael as Zara had seen him, huddled on the patio, shaking as she, Lucien and Galahad fought off the creatures.

  The distinction of whether Danyael was shaking in fear or shuddering in pain seemed not to have occurred to Zara. She saw him as weak, incompetent, a failure. She did not seem to know or care that the reason she was standing tall, arrogant, and proud instead of crawling on the ground trying to stuff her entrails back into her stomach was because Danyael had protected and healed her through the battle at nearly unthinkable cost to himself. How could she be so blind?

  The reason was perfectly obvious: Zara had been tampered with. Her behavior had all the trademarks of it: she was single-mindedly irrational to the point of interpreting all new information in precisely the same vein. No one—not even a prejudiced human—was actually capable of being that clueless. Danyael’s psychic shield was doing exactly what it had been designed to do, exacerbating a negative opinion into heightened dislike.

  On the other hand, Miriya could not conveniently blame Danyael’s psychic shield for her own lapse into female oblivion. She had attacked him without provocation, and now, it was apparent, without any basis either. Whatever was happening there, it was clear that Galahad was not a reluctant captive. He obviously considered himself among friends.

  Miriya’s smartphone rang. She took a few steps away from the small crowd gawking like curious children at the corpse of the creature. “Yes, I’m still alive,” she announced preemptively into the phone.

  On the other end, Alex Saunders released an explosive sigh of relief. “Thank God! The machines picked up what I assume were your initial attack and Danyael’s counterattack. And then the machines went completely crazy for about five minutes, tracking your power signature and Danyael’s in perfect resonance, almost as if you were amplifying his, like two waves cresting to create an even greater wave. We’ve never seen his secondary healing powers spike that high before.”

  “I’d be surprised if you had.” The corner of her mouth twisted in an ironic smile.

  “And then he cut loose, didn’t he?” Alex finished, his tone quiet. “It happened once, when he was much younger, and didn’t have as fine a control over his powers. You probably won’t believe the power readings we recorded here. What happened, Miriya, and why are you still alive?” he asked bluntly.

  “Probably because he wasn’t targeting me.” She shook her hair back from her face and glanced over at the corpse on the patio floor. “The abominations—the ones that escaped from the lab—showed up just seconds after I attacked Danyael. He concluded that ‘surviving’ needed to be part of our revised agenda for the day, so we decided to work together, just for novelty’s sake.”

  “And the abominations?”

  “One’s dead. Danyael drove it to suicide when he ‘cut loose,’ as you call it. It wasn’t pretty. The others fled. And Alex.” She hesitated briefly. “There are other things going on around here.”

  “Spill it, Miriya. You know I hate secrets.”

  “Yes, me too. It appears you left out quite a bit when you debriefed me on Danyael’s capabilities.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His shields are insanely strong.”

  “He’s a defense-class alpha empath, and he’s double-shielded. What were you expecting?”

  “I’ve broken through defense-class alpha telepaths with far less effort. But that’s the least of it. Danyael followed my telepathic attack back to my mind. Since when could empaths do things like that?”

  “They can’t
,” Alex said firmly. “Danyael is an alpha empath. He has no telepathic capabilities.”

  “Well, then you need to consider rewriting the alpha empath playbook, because not only did he manage to sneak past my shields but we also linked telepathically, seamlessly, and he psychically healed his friends through me. I’ve never seen an empath pull off such a clean telepathic link before.”

  “Danyael’s very capable.”

  Nevertheless, she heard doubt in his voice and decided to push her case a bit harder. “Telepathic-level capable?”

  “No, he is not telepathic. Trust me. We ran all those tests on him when he was first identified as a mutant. And there is no alpha empath playbook. There are far too few of them to make any generalizations on what they’re capable of doing.”

  “I know what I saw,” Miriya said. “I think Danyael is overdue for another review. An alpha empath with secondary healing abilities and minor telepathic capabilities? That kind of mutant would be just a little too capable and too dangerous to leave out there. We can’t run the risk of someone snatching him up.”

  “You are blowing things out of proportion, Miriya. I know the results of Danyael’s tests. He’s not telepathic, and we’re not going to yank him out of whatever normal life he’s managed to make for himself.”

  “I’d say ‘normal’ is about to go ‘poof’ for him. Galahad, Pioneer Lab’s missing pet project, is here, and he looks just like Danyael.”

  “What do you mean he looks just like Danyael?”

  She shrugged. “They look like twins—identical twins. It’s far more complicated than we’d originally envisioned. I need to stay around, see it through.”

  “I don’t want mutants involved in this.”

  “It’s too late for that, Alex. Danyael is involved in this. And if you’re going to have an alpha empath running loose during this crisis, it may not hurt to have a telepath around to reinforce his shields, if it gets to the point where he can no longer sustain them.”

  Alex inhaled sharply and was silent for a while. “How badly hurt was he?”

  “He’ll probably want to stay in bed for a month, though I doubt he has the luxury.” She chuckled softly before turning serious again. “Alex, just how strong is he?”

  “He’s stronger than people expect,” Alex Saunders said without any hesitation. “And he is stronger than he himself knows.” Alex paused for a moment. “Take good care of him, Miriya.”

  ~*~

  “We’re here.”

  Lucien’s words echoed through Danyael’s spinning head. He might have winced except that he was not even sure he had the strength for it. Without adrenaline fueling his body, his strength faded so quickly that Lucien and Galahad had to carry him the final few steps toward the bed. Hovering on the edge of blackout, Danyael allowed Lucien and Galahad to lower him onto the cool silk sheets. He closed his eyes, grateful to block out the world that was now painted in garish shades of yellow and brown.

  “He’s burning up,” Galahad said quietly. “What can we do?”

  “Nothing except wait. The pain’s just all in his head, as they say.” Lucien laughed, a bitter sound.

  “He saved my life.”

  “He saved all our lives. Several times over, as a matter of fact.” Lucien hesitated, staring down at Danyael’s clothes, splattered with the blood and flesh fragments of the creature that had torn itself apart in front of him. The stench of death lingered on him. “Danyael, I’m going to get your clothes off, all right?”

  They stripped off his clothes and then pulled the covers over him. With the ruined clothes bundled in his arms, Lucien headed for the door. He paused to look back at his best friend lying pale and still beneath the sheets. “Danyael, we’re leaving now. Do you need anything else?”

  Danyael stirred weakly, turning his head on the pillow to look at them. “Can’t keep shields up…don’t let anyone in…”

  Lucien pulled the door shut behind him. Outside the room, his façade of strength collapsed, and he sagged against the closed door. He muttered an incoherent curse under his breath.

  “How bad is it?” Galahad asked.

  “It’s the worst I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen Danyael go through some really rough patches in the past.” Lucien cursed again. “I don’t know where he got his imbecilic idea of healing us through the fight. It probably saved all our lives, but still—”

  “How long will it take him to recover?”

  Lucien inhaled deeply and then released his breath in a soft sigh. “I don’t know. We’re in completely new territory here.” He turned to Galahad. “Could they have followed you here?”

  “I don’t know,” Galahad said, “but I don’t really believe in coincidences. I never did.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “The telepath’s arrival was timely, though for a while, I wasn’t sure which side she was on.”

  Lucien’s eyes narrowed. “What telepath?”

  “The young woman who telepathically linked us to Danyael. Didn’t you feel it when her mind connected with yours?”

  “Not particularly,” Lucien confessed. “I was a bit distracted then.”

  “She attacked Danyael without warning. That’s when I shouted for you and Zara. I was about to attack her, when I saw the abominations.”

  A muscle twitched in Lucien’s cheek. “Let’s go down and talk to her. I want to know who the hell she is and what she’s doing here.”

  The telepath was still outside, waiting by the pool as Lucien’s staff began the arduous task of scrubbing blood off the patio tiles. Carlos’s body had been removed, and Zara was nowhere in sight. The telepath seemed to expect them, although given her mutant capabilities, Lucien would have been surprised if she hadn’t.

  She introduced herself with a faint smile. “I’m Miriya Templeton.” She was petite, scarcely over five feet tall, though she carried herself with such confidence that it was easy to forget how small she was. Her blond hair was cut in an attractive bob that framed her wide green eyes, pointed chin, and sharp features. All in all, she looked like an adorable kitten, albeit one with dangerous claws. “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.” Her wicked smile was at odds with her clichéd introduction. “Actually, I represent the Mutant Affairs Council, and you may be aware that we’ve issued a recall on all mutants in the D.C. area.”

  “Recall?” Lucien echoed. “Why do you refer to your own kind as if they’re defective products?”

  “Many people consider us defective products,” Miriya said, “but I digress. When Danyael did not respond to the recall, I was sent to investigate and bring him in.”

  “Dead or alive?” Lucien asked.

  “Alive, preferably, but dead was an option for me too.” She waved her hand toward the corpse of the abomination. “I realize now that the situation is more complex than we had originally anticipated. I have now been assigned to assist in any way I can to resolve this.”

  “Resolve what, exactly?” Lucien yanked his fingers through his dark hair. “There’s a gene war breaking out in D.C., monsters are roaming my neighborhood, and my best friend shares a face with the most wanted man in the world. Which one of those problems did you want to tackle first?”

  Miriya laughed out loud, a rich, husky sound. “Why don’t you fill me in on what happened?”

  “Why don’t you just pick through my mind for the details?” Lucien challenged.

  She tilted her head to one side, assessing him. “You don’t like what I did to Danyael. I acknowledge that I was wrong and hasty, and I will apologize to him. I am a telepath, and I won’t apologize for using short cuts that are available to me. Power is power, whether it comes from the genetic lottery or from extreme wealth. Like it or not, you and I are more alike than you would prefer to admit.” Miriya smiled again. “It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Lucien Winter.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ten minutes later, Zara, Lucien, Xin, Miriya and Galahad regrouped at Lucien’s study. Miriya, slouched in a larg
e chair, looked around the room. They could not possibly have been a more diverse mix of people—a naturally born human, an in vitro, a clone, a mutant, and someone who was in a category of his own.

  Xin, the woman who had fired the gun from the balcony, was the only one whose mind was protected behind a psychic shield, unreadable, inaccessible. The others were open books to Miriya. Zara’s non-optimized genetic stew made her a swirl of contradictions that would have caused any telepath’s head to spin. The young woman jerked away from Lucien when he laid a hand gently upon her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about Carlos.”

  Zara turned shimmering violet eyes up at Lucien. “He let Carlos die.”

  Lucien shook his head. “You know it’s not as simple as that.”

  “Couldn’t he just heal Carlos? How could that be too much to ask?”

  “After keeping the rest of us alive? Do you even know what he did for us?” He stared at her, searching her face for a long silent moment, and then shook his head in disbelief. “You have no clue, do you? Keep hating his guts if you want, but at least hate him for the right reasons. We’d all be dead if not for him.” Stepping past her, he sat down behind his desk. “This is Miriya. Miriya, Xin, Zara, and Galahad. Miriya’s a telepath; she’s been assigned by the council to help out.”

  “A mutant.” Zara’s eyes narrowed.

  “Considering a mutant saved your life, you could be a bit more grateful,” Miriya retorted.