by Jade Kerrion
“Danyael…” Zara’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky.
Leaning heavily against the wall, he climbed to his feet. Blood drenched his denim-clad left leg. He braced himself, physically and emotionally. Only then did he turn to survey the carnage.
Ten men, their eyes glassy and unseeing, lay in growing pools of blood, guns clasped loosely in their hands, self-inflicted bullet wounds in their heads, faces, or chests.
Danyael closed his eyes against the horror, the crushing weight that slammed into his chest. He could barely breathe. He could not keep his hands from shaking.
“They’re dead. You killed them all,” Zara said, her voice quiet, shimmering with horror and disbelief that echoed his own.
“I…” His voice trailed into silence.
What could he say?
It had happened once before, long ago, an accident. He had been careless and had not been able to control his empathic powers. Someone died.
What happened minutes earlier was not an accident, though. He had known what would happen when he dropped his inner shields, and he had done it regardless.
He turned his back on the dead men and limped to the door. His hand was unsteady on the handle. He swallowed hard, fighting to regain his composure.
“Zara? Danyael?” Xin called out softly through the microphone. Her voice caught. “The biometric scanner is finally down. I’m so sorry it took so long.”
Doing it any faster would not have helped. It would not have changed the outcome. He wished he had enough energy to tell her. Slowly he twisted the door handle and limped out.
“Miriya!” Galahad ran down the corridor, knelt beside Miriya, and then looked up at Danyael. “What happened?” Galahad asked, his voice scarcely a whisper as he took in Danyael’s injuries and the slaughter in the room. “Lucien…is he—”
“Alive,” Danyael confirmed. “Get him out of the room. I’ll get Miriya.”
Galahad grabbed Danyael as the alpha empath staggered, nearly falling as he made his way to the telepath. “You’re going to need help getting out of here yourself.”
Danyael exhaled through clenched teeth and said quietly, “I’ll be all right.”
~*~
Zara stood watch as Danyael knelt beside Miriya and tried to ignore the way her breath caught each time she heard Danyael choke down a soft groan of pain. She turned her back on Danyael. She could not be there for him. He never asked for anything, he never seemed to expect anything, but he needed much more than she could give.
She could not be with someone who could wrench her apart with a single sound.
She heard the soft rustling of motion behind her. “Take it easy,” Danyael said finally.
God, he sounded exhausted.
“You’ve lost a lot of blood, and there’s nothing I can do about that,” Danyael continued.
Zara looked over her shoulder. “You all right, Miriya?”
“I’ll be fine,” the telepath said. She peeked into her halter top and rubbed her chest gently.
“Can you take point?” Zara asked Miriya.
“Yes, I can.”
“Good. Galahad, you take Lucien. Carry him over your shoulder. You’re next, Danyael. I’ll cover our rear.”
“I…don’t know if I can keep up,” Danyael said quietly as he struggled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. His dark eyes were unfocused, glazed with pain. “Go. Get Lucien out.”
Why did his instructions not surprise her? “Listen,” Zara grabbed his shirt and yanked him to her. Up close, she could feel the heat of his fever radiating from him. “We came in together. We leave together. Now move it.”
He could not keep up—he could barely walk—but Miriya seemed to know and did not push too hard. Navigating the stairs was especially difficult for Danyael. The slow pace irked Zara, but the alternative was to leave Danyael behind, and that she would not do.
Slowly they retraced their steps down the empty corridors. Their luck did not hold. “Incoming,” Miriya said sharply. “At least twenty. Possibly more behind them. Too many, and I lose count. They’re psychically shielded, but the shields aren’t strong. I can probably get through. Once I’m through, Danyael can chase them off.”
“I don’t think so. The last time you tried that, you got shot,” Zara replied. “Are they armed?”
Miriya’s brow furrowed briefly. “Yes.”
“Hold here,” Zara ordered. With her purloined guns in each hand, she looked into the library that she and Galahad had passed earlier. A quick glance confirmed that there was no other way in or out of the room, except for that one door and the windows lining the far wall. She gestured with a tilt of her chin toward the room. “Get in. We’ll force them to come to us.”
She shut and locked the door once they had all entered. “Miriya, tell us when they get close. Galahad, give me a hand.” Working together swiftly, they pulled furniture across the room and used shelves, chairs, and desks to create cover in front of and to the side of the door.
“The furniture will give you some protection, but it won’t stop a bullet,” Zara warned. “Keep your head down and don’t get hit.”
“They’re getting close,” Miriya warned tersely. “About twenty feet.”
“All right. Get back there,” Zara ordered. With Galahad’s help, she wheeled the piano over. Galahad moved Lucien behind the piano. Silent and pale, Danyael crouched beside Lucien.
“Ten feet,” Miriya said, ducking behind the piano. She peeked at the name emblazoned over the keys. It’s a Steinway. What a shame.
“I’ve got this.” Galahad grabbed an automatic rifle and took cover behind the shelves in front of the door.
Zara’s instinct was to object, but she knew that Galahad, with his superior reflexes, was far better equipped to handle frontal fire. Zara picked up the other rifle and crouched behind the barricade next to the door. She forced Danyael out of her mind. Her eyes were cool. It was time to get to work.
~*~
“This is not a good idea.” Miriya placed a hand on Danyael’s arm to hold him back.
Danyael heard her warning, but did not have the strength or desire to acknowledge it. Without adrenaline flooding his system, pain crept up on him, intruding on his ability to focus. He could feel the impact of the blood loss drag at him. He had to do something before he no longer could.
Dimly he heard the sound of the door smashing open. The sound of a gunfight erupted close to him. The screams of the injured and dying began.
He tuned out all the sounds, shut off all the distractions, and focused his exhausted energies on Lucien.
Healing the physical injury, the bullet wound in Lucien’s right shoulder, was easy.
Draining the drugs from Lucien’s bloodstream was far harder. As the effects transferred seamlessly through the empathic link, Danyael’s head spun. His field of vision blurred, colors blending, lines curving. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as he pressed the palms of his hands against either side of his forehead.
“Damn it, Danyael.” He heard Miriya’s voice as if from a long way off. Her hands gripped at his shoulders, steadying him as she eased him to the floor. “I’ve got you.”
He could not pull his hands away from his aching head. Pain, vicious and alive, rattled his skull. Don’t yell. Head hurts.
You haven’t even begun to see me yell yet, Miriya told him amiably, switching to a telepathic conversation. What was in him?
Tropane alkaloids.
What’s that in English?
Stuff that…stuff that causes delirium, hallucinations, among other things. Throws the mind for a loop.
Isn’t it a wee bit dangerous for the mind of an alpha empath to get thrown for a loop?
I’ll…be all right. Just need a few minutes.
I don’t think Zara and Galahad have a few minutes. I’m going to give them a hand before someone else gets hurt.
Link us. I can heal them.
I don’t think so. The last two times you pulle
d that telepathic healing stunt with us, you almost got yourself killed.
After a long pause, softly Danyael said, I’m sorry…I don’t remember.
Yeah. Not remembering would make it rather hard to learn from one’s mistakes. If I take down our attackers’ psychic shields, can you drive them back?
Yes, but only if you can shield Galahad and Zara. Danyael dragged his eyes open, pulled slowly to one knee, and looked out from behind the piano. Hurry, damn it. They’re out of time.
Miriya did not reply. Her gaze was unfocused, her eyes a brilliant green.
With a sharp cry of pain, Zara staggered, bleeding.
Danyael’s eyes widened with alarm. She’s hurt. Link us.
No, I’m not going to do it.
Not remembering is the perfect excuse for repeating mistakes. Do it. Now.
Miriya’s mind opened to him. Danyael did not hesitate. He lowered his external shields and stepped into her mental embrace. Tapping into the full capabilities of an alpha telepath was like nothing he had ever imagined. The sheer vastness, the honed precision of her mind staggered him. He felt gentle pressure, the tugging of her mind, as she channeled his empathic healing powers.
His world exploded into pain. Brilliant, stark patches of white flashed across his field of vision, blinding him. I can do this. I have to. Breathe…let go.
Deliberately, he unclenched his fists and accepted the pain and the injury. He had to keep Zara alive, whatever the cost.
~*~
Damn it! He was doing it again.
Zara cursed Danyael silently as the pain faded and the injury closed. She no longer felt the warm trickle of blood down her shoulder. Shards of pain no longer pierced her body with each breath. Gritting her teeth, she brought her gun back around and fired two precise bursts. Several feet from her, a man collapsed, slumping to the floor with a final wheeze.
How many more were there? How could she end the attack before Danyael’s strength ran out? Miriya. Do something, Zara ordered.
You’re supposed to be the one with the plan. Miriya snarled a nasty curse into the silence of their joined minds.
Their attackers screamed in pain.
Danyael screamed too, an anguished cry that abruptly ended in an agonized but muted sob.
What happened?
I slowed his intake of your injuries, but had to stop, to nail those guys. My mental powers aren’t unlimited. Make the most of it, damn it. I’ve got Danyael under control again, but he’s in bad shape.
Galahad leapt out from behind his cover. His ammunition was likely exhausted, as was hers. He closed the distance to their attackers in five quick strides and was among them before they recovered from Miriya’s psi-blast. By the time they gathered their wits, he was too close for them to bring their weapons to bear.
Their attackers were accomplished in hand-to-hand combat, but Galahad was in a different class. Everywhere in general and nowhere in particular, he ripped through their ranks like a hurricane through a cornfield.
Miriya asked, Aren’t you going to help him?
Zara shook her head. Do what? It’ll be over in thirty seconds.
She missed her guess by about two seconds. Twenty-eight seconds later, Galahad, barely winded, stood alone in a heap of bodies. Most of their attackers were still alive, though it would be several minutes before they regained consciousness. Zara reloaded her weapon with ammunition from their guns. “All right, let’s go. How is he?” she asked Miriya as the telepath helped Danyael rise slowly to his feet.
“I’ll be all right,” Danyael murmured defensively.
Zara leaned forward and peered into Danyael’s eyes. His pupils were dilated, his gaze unfocused. She doubted he could even see her. “Miriya, I’ll take him. You’re on point. Galahad, you’ve got Lucien. Danyael and I will bring up the rear.” She stepped forward to take over the burden of supporting his weight.
He pulled away from her. The flicker of hurt that lanced through her caught her off guard. She gripped him tightly around the waist, probably a little harder than was necessary. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. Relax and lean on me. I can take your weight; I’m stronger than you think.”
He hesitated. Quietly, he said, “Thank you.”
At least he was not going to object out of principle. Zara realized quickly, though, that he was not in any condition to object. Even with her support, he tensed each time he took a step on his left leg. The wounds wept blood; he left a crimson trail behind him.
The group had barely made it out of the building when Miriya looked up sharply. Brilliantly green eyes stared blankly toward the south. “There are more. Lots of them coming in fast.”
“Can we still get to the boat?”
Miriya chewed on her lower lip. “Maybe.”
Danyael pulled away. “I’ll stop them. I want the rest of you to get out of here.”
“Danyael—”
“Do it. And shield them.”
Miriya opened her mouth to disagree, but Zara overruled. “Let’s go.” She slung Lucien’s other arm across her shoulder.
Together she and Galahad made far better time carrying Lucien’s dead weight. They traveled five hundred feet and descended the steep slope of a small hill.
Unexpectedly, Zara stopped.
Miriya paused and watched with amusement as confusion spread over Zara’s face.
The fear-laden urgency smeared across her instincts had vanished.
Miriya offered the explanation without waiting to be asked. “Danyael’s a defense-class alpha empath. His range is limited, and now that you’re out of his line of sight—”
“He messed with my emotions?”
“Yep,” Miriya said with cheerfulness that Zara considered utterly misplaced. “You’re a mercenary; you live and breathe danger. Nothing, other than direct emotional manipulation, could have made you turn tail and run for safety.”
Zara spun around and stared in Danyael’s direction. “Damn it,” she said under her breath. “Let’s get Lucien to the boat. Miriya, I want you to take the boat out to sea and stay with him. Galahad and I will go back for Danyael.”
“All right. You’ll be shielded,” Miriya confirmed. “Danyael has practically no range, but I do. I can protect you. That way, if he cuts loose again, you’ll go only marginally insane, as opposed to completely suicidal.”
“Very reassuring,” Galahad said quietly, an amused undertone in his voice.
Within five minutes, Lucien and Miriya were in the boat. Zara waited just long enough to confirm that Miriya had things under control as the telepath guided the boat out to open water. Every second chafed on Zara’s nerves. Every minute reduced her chances of getting to Danyael before he was irretrievably in trouble.
She and Galahad exchanged hardly a word as they raced away from the dock and toward where they had left Danyael. Their pace slowed to a deliberate crawl as they got closer. The silence was ominous, and when they crouched to look over the top of the hill, there was no sign of Danyael.
A trail of blood led away from the dock, toward a dense copse of trees.
At least Danyael led his pursuers away from the boat. In the process, he had also significantly complicated their search for him. Zara’s jaw tensed. “Let’s split up. We’ll cover more ground that way. And be careful,” she said, turning to look at Galahad. “I don’t want to lose you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Ten days earlier, when Galahad had woken up in Pioneer Labs on that last morning of his captivity, he could never have imagined the turns his life would take.
The weight and shape of the semi-automatic gun was familiar, even comforting. Moving silently through the dappled shade beneath the trees was easy. He felt alive, vitally alive. All around him, there was much to experience, to see, to hear, to touch. Life embraced him. He had guides and protectors, but no one held him back.
Galahad reached out and touched the rough bark of a tree. He reveled in the texture against the palm of his hand. The
sensation was different from the living silk of the yellow flowers sprouting at the base of the tree. How could the professors at Pioneer Labs have denied him something as fundamental as the ability to perceive life in all its fullness?
A few days of freedom had taught him one thing: he could never go back, not when he had witnessed the vastness of life with all its untapped promise.
Not when he had yet to find his way, his purpose. Perfect…for what?
At least part of the answer seemed obvious. He pressed against a tree, silent as a ghost. Two men armed with machine guns passed fifty feet away. Shadows waved as the leaves of trees rustled in the breeze. Light and darkness fluidly blended, concealing him in the growing dusk.
He wondered if he was supposed to feel something—hesitation, perhaps—when he raised his gun and took careful aim.
Life was fragile. He had seen it lost every day at Pioneer Labs, animals, scarcely formed human fetuses. He had seen misshapen full-term human infants removed from the incubator and suffocated.
Life was just something else to lose. It was hardly the only thing, and it was not even the worst thing. He knew that fact intimately. Living was a great deal harder than dying. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. One man fell, killed instantly by the bullet that pierced his skull. The other man turned to run, scrambling away like a hunted animal. Unhurriedly, Galahad shifted his focus, subtly adjusting his aim.
Another shot rang out. Another man died.
Galahad lowered his weapon. He tracked a path parallel to the trail of blood. There was no need to stay directly on top of it. Even from a distance, he could see the path Danyael had left in the heavy underbrush. The alpha empath had covered a good distance, his injury notwithstanding, a credit to willpower, Galahad supposed, and Danyael’s inability to know when to quit.
Scarcely two hundred feet later, he saw the empath limping through the tall grass toward a clearing. He also saw what Danyael had yet to see: five men coiled in the bushes. Galahad did not hesitate. He took two out and ducked behind a tree when the remaining three turned on him with automatic weapons.
Bullets tore up the ground around him. Galahad listened. He inhaled deeply. His heart rate slowed. His mind eased into a dreamlike state. He instinctively used the sound of their weapons to place them.
