by Jade Kerrion
Alex sighed heavily. Several moments passed in silence before he nodded. “Yes, I know I can. All right, you’ve got your twenty-four hours. You’re still under the protection of the council, and I will go to bat for you, but don’t screw it up, Danyael.”
“I won’t. Thank you.”
Zara leaned over and disconnected the call with an indifferent push of a button. She looked into the faces of her friends. “Now what?”
The answer was obvious. Xin was the first to voice it as she leaned back in her chair. “Now we see how much influence the Winter name can bring to bear.”
“I’ll talk to them. There’s no need for the rest of you to get involved,” Danyael said. Lucien’s parents, though human, were not lightweights. They had deployed far more than charm and good looks in building one of the world’s largest private fortunes. Ruthlessness was finessed into an art form and concealed within a velvet glove. With that kind of money and power at their disposal, there was no point in giving them more targets to go after.
The others stood out of the visual range of the video camera. Danyael was the only one visible when Damien Winter and Madge Callahan appeared on the screen.
“Where is Lucien?” Damien Winter demanded. His closely cropped hair disguised natural curls and encroaching baldness, but nothing detracted from his sculptured, aristocratic features. His eyes were piercing, the kind that should have made anyone squirm in discomfort.
Danyael was too tired to react. “He’s resting.”
“He’s all right?” Madge asked. Next to her dark-skinned husband, she appeared lily-white. Lush waves of strawberry-blond hair framed her face. Her blue eyes—Lucien’s eyes, but colder and harder—widened with hope.
“He’s alive. Physically, he’s all right,” Danyael said quietly.
“But?”
Danyael did not lower his gaze though it took all his willpower not to look away. “His mind is partially blocked.”
“By telepaths?”
“Most likely.”
“How serious is it?”
Danyael’s sigh was more motion than sound. “That would depend on your point of view. As far as I can tell, his cognitive functions are fine, and his memory is intact. The only change appears to be in his feelings toward me.”
“Has a telepath scanned his mind?”
“Yes, an alpha. She agrees with my assessment of his condition.”
“I see. It appears that we may not need the backup after all.” The observation was offered by Damien Winter in the coolest possible tone. “We will take Lucien home.”
Danyael inclined his head. “Yes, of course.”
“When?”
“In about five hours. We’re on the yacht; we’ll be back at Fort Lauderdale in five hours.”
“All right. We’ll be there when you arrive.”
The screen went black.
Danyael released his breath slowly and buried his face in his hands.
“That went well,” Miriya murmured, the sarcastic undertones clear. “Why do they hate you so much?”
Danyael looked up. His dark eyes were more than weary; they were heartsick. “They think I manipulated Lucien, which is incredibly ironic, since Lucien is the one person I can’t influence.”
“What ‘backup’ are they talking about?” Galahad asked.
Danyael looked away sharply.
Miriya, Xin, and Zara exchanged cautious glances.
Galahad caught on. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m guessing the backup they referred to is Lucien’s backup?” Xin kept her eyes on Danyael and saw the slow, reluctant nod. She inhaled deeply and released her breath in an inaudible sigh. “It’s not uncommon for the very wealthy to protect their genetic line by having backups.”
“Backups?”
“Naturally aged clones. It’s most common with in vitros, like Lucien, because they’re created in labs before they’re implanted in real or artificial wombs. Early in fetal formation, the embryonic cells are separated, much the same way twins happen in nature, and implanted in artificial wombs. They’re birthed when the primary is born and placed in hibernation. They’d age along naturally as he ages.”
“And if something happens to Lucien, they’d bring out one of his clones to replace him?” Galahad asked.
“Well, they’d have to transfer his memories first. I’m guessing that Lucien goes for frequent memory scans,” Xin said.
Another nod from Danyael confirmed it.
Galahad looked over at Danyael. “And Lucien is…okay with this?”
“It’s a logical backup plan,” Danyael said quietly. “The Winters have chosen to have only one child, but that doesn’t mean they should put all their eggs into one basket.”
“If something happens to Lucien and one of those clones is used to replace him, will it really be Lucien, even with his memories?” Galahad asked.
That time, the answer did not come as quickly or as easily.
Xin sighed and said slowly, “In theory, they are identical. We’ve got memory duplication down to an art form. The perfect memory, with all its associated emotions, placed in a genetically identical person, in theory, it works.”
“And in reality?” Galahad asked. He looked at Miriya and then at Danyael for answers.
“The few replacements I’ve encountered have been pretty damn good.” Miriya shrugged. “I couldn’t tell the difference.”
Galahad’s eyes darted to Danyael. He waited.
Danyael looked away, pressed the palms of his hands together, and placed them over his lips. “I’ve never met any replacements before. I don’t know.”
“None of this is getting us any closer to helping Lucien,” Zara said, taking charge of the conversation. She sat at the edge of the table and waited until the others took their seats around the conference table. “All right, break this down for me, Miriya. What exactly happened to Lucien?”
“Ah, it’s kind of hard to explain.” Miriya tugged her thin cardigan tighter around her shoulders. “It wasn’t just a psychic block. A psychic block would have kept Lucien from accessing his memories or capabilities, but it definitely wouldn’t have turned Lucien against Danyael.”
“So what was it? Brainwashing?”
Miriya shook her head. “Brainwashing’s such a plebian term. I guess the best way to describe it is—well, we all have certain habits, beliefs. Things we do or think or feel consistently over a period of time in response to certain stimuli. These are like raindrops falling onto the mountainside. Over time, they accumulate, each one flowing down the same path as the raindrop before it, forming rivers of thinking.”
“Basically, it gets hardwired.”
“Right, just like a river carves gorges in the mountain. Anyway, someone put blocks in Lucien’s mind, like dams in the river. The easy thing to do would be to block his memories of his kidnapping. That, combined with some drugs, would keep him docile and less likely to attempt an escape. But what they did was much more complicated and far more insidious. They put blocks in his mind to redirect his thought process, ensuring that even when they were not physically present to control him, he would continue to act the way they desired, because of the perceived logic of his thought process.”
“So now the river flows down a different path.”
“That’s right. The path isn’t a new one, but it is now triggered by something that was not previously connected to it.”
Zara’s brow furrowed. “So why is there a path in Lucien’s mind that says ‘Kill Danyael?’”
Danyael looked sharply at Zara.
“Ah…” Miriya hesitated, glancing between Danyael and Zara. “We don’t know that for sure. I don’t know Lucien well enough to make a guess as to what’s really in his head.”
“You’re a telepath.”
“Yeah, well, it’s really rude to poke around without being invited, unless there’s a compelling reason to do so.”
“I’d say we’ve got a pretty damn compelling reason. Can you fix it?”
“Eventually, over time. There are at least two ways to handle psychic blocks. Brute force is an option. Push hard, and the blocks may tumble, knocking each other down like dominos. Tried that; didn’t work.”
“And the second?”
“The exact opposite. Delicate work, similar to defusing a bomb. Figure out what belongs, what doesn’t, and then remove the blocks a piece at a time and hope that the whole thing doesn’t come crumbling down.”
“What whole thing?”
“Lucien’s mind,” Miriya said tersely. “It can be a crap shoot, which is why I’m not going to mess with his mind until I get a solid eight hours of sleep. Expert advice wouldn’t hurt, either. Having a couple of other alphas work with me on this would be ideal.”
“What’s that saying about too many cooks?”
“Doesn’t apply in this case. Psychic blocks on this scale are incredibly elaborate, and it probably took more than one person to put them up. Taking them down is an exercise in creative problem solving, and the more perspectives available, the better our chances of taking the blocks down quickly without damaging the original structure.” She glanced over at Danyael. “We’re going to need you when we work on Lucien’s mind. You’re his closest friend. You know him better than anyone else and can tell us what’s part of him versus something that was inserted by someone else.”
Danyael shook his head. His voice, usually a model of perfect equilibrium, was edged with bitterness. “His parents aren’t going to want me anywhere near his mind.”
“If it’s the only way to ensure that we get Lucien clean, they’ll go for it.”
“And if they don’t?” Zara asked.
Miriya shrugged. “Then we do the best we can, but there’s never going to be any guarantee, even with Danyael’s help, that we won’t miss something buried in a corner that triggers later when something specific happens.”
“So they could continue to control Lucien’s mind?”
“There’s always that possibility, though the impact is lessened, especially if Lucien is in control of the rest of his faculties.”
“Who could have done this?”
Miriya frowned. “Any well-trained alpha, though likely it was a larger team considering the extensive blocks placed in Lucien’s mind over a few days.”
“That practically excludes the pro-humanists, doesn’t it?” Zara said. It was not a question. “They’d never have worked with the mutants to pull this off.”
Miriya nodded. “Exactly.”
“And you didn’t pick up any hint of who’s behind this?”
“No. The best defense against a telepath is ignorance, and there was plenty of that going around. The people on the island are only the tip of the iceberg,” Miriya said.
Zara glanced over at her trusted associate. “You must get the bottom of this, Xin. We barely escaped this trap, and I’d like a heads-up before I walk into the next one.”
Xin nodded. “Yup, I’m on it.” Her fingers danced over the screen of her tablet.
“So…” Zara inhaled deeply. “Now what do we do with Lucien? Do we need to secure him for the night?”
Miriya shook her head. “He’s down for the night. Danyael made sure of it. Draining the drugs was key. At least now, Lucien’s got a shot at separating fantasy from reality.”
Zara looked sharply over at Danyael. “What drugs?”
He did not look at her. “Tropane alkaloids.”
Her violet eyes widened. “Scopolamine?”
“It was a cocktail of related drugs, but yes, including scopolamine.”
“When, damn it? When did you heal him?”
“Back at the island. The library.”
She shot to her feet. “You healed him while the rest of us were fighting for our lives? You absorbed scopolamine and its effects while all our lives were in danger? Couldn’t you bloody wait till we got out?”
“He was regaining consciousness,” Danyael said, his voice weary. “The choices came down to drain the poison and put him to sleep or fight him too.”
She shook her head as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that Danyael had knowingly and deliberately absorbed scopolamine. The effects, the hallucinations and delirium, would have been brutal—a mental battle on top of the physical struggle to keep going. Why had he not told her when he had done it? Damn it, she could have helped him instead of leaving him to struggle through it alone. “You could have just put him to sleep,” she said.
“And leave him to wrestle endless nightmares without being able to wake up?” He looked up and met her gaze directly. “I couldn’t do that to him.”
No, I guess you couldn’t. “At least I now know why you looked like hell and could barely walk after that fight, even though you did nothing, why you’ve been little more than a zombie for the past few hours. Damn you, Danyael. We were counting on you, but you endangered yourself. You endangered all of us.”
Zara saw guilt flicker across his face before he averted his gaze. She could not look away from his perfect profile, so cold, so distant. She did not need to be an empath to sense that he was pulling away from her, as if he had ever been near to her at all.
Damn it, look at me. I need to know I matter to you too, that you’re not going to throw away my life…your own life…just for Lucien.
“Let it go, Zara,” Xin interjected quietly. “We made it. We’re okay.”
“She’s right,” Miriya agreed. “There’s nothing to be gained from turning this into a blame game. If you assume any decision Danyael makes will maximize Lucien’s well-being, you won’t be surprised by what he does.”
No, she was not surprised, but she was furious. And hurt.
Danyael had said that he cared for her. Sometimes his actions suggested far more. They had even implied that his heart was on the line, but he had lied. It was Lucien, always Lucien, only Lucien.
“I’m going to get some sleep.” Miriya stood and glanced at Zara. You’re way too hard on him. Lucien is the center and circumference of Danyael’s life. You want that role, you try sticking around for Danyael through thick and thin, for the next fifteen or so years, and you might become what Lucien is to him now.
Damn it, Miriya. Get the hell out of my head.
Stop projecting so loudly, then. Danyael can’t read your thoughts, but I bet your emotions are screaming at him too. Be patient, Zara. Trust comes slowly for Danyael.
Miriya yawned and glanced at Danyael. “You could use some sleep too.”
Danyael nodded and pushed slowly to his feet. He reached over his shoulder to massage his neck and hooked the crutch under his arm before hobbling from the room.
Miriya followed him out. I’ll make sure he settles down.
Even with Miriya behind him, Danyael seemed alone, vulnerable, fragile. Zara had tried to protect him. She had promised to protect him, and she had failed utterly.
She looked away. She did not want to see him walk away from her. It hurt too much.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The night gave way to dawn. A rosy red hue crept across the horizon, staining the sky. Its colors echoed, reflecting off the dark waves. It was pretty out there, Zara mused as she sipped slowly from a coffee mug. She stood at the stern of the ship, staring out at the Atlantic with its immense vastness, no boundaries, endless promise.
She heard quiet footsteps cross the polished wooden deck. She did not look over her shoulder. The cadence of the footstep was familiar to her.
“We’re docking in about a half hour.”
“Thanks, Xin.” She offered Xin a smile as she came up alongside. “How did you sleep last night?”
“Not well. Didn’t get much.” Xin rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. “Didn’t get much traction on the case, either. If someone knows who rented the island from Purest Humanity, they sure didn’t log it in their IT systems. I looked everywhere. I even plowed through their old records to find trends, but nothing has come up yet.”
“This may require some old-fas
hioned investigation. Knock a few heads together. See if someone might feel a bit more motivated to remember who they leased the island to.”
“Are you going to drag Jason into this?”
Zara nodded. “Yes, unless you can give me a reason not to.”
“I know he’s president of Purest Humanity, but he’s not all that engaged in the day-to-day operations of the company, other than personally leading attacks against Pioneer Labs. He sets the agenda; others manage it for him. Reed Forrester actually runs the show.”
“I’ve met him. Cool-headed, cold-blooded. The perfect foil to Jason’s impassioned pro-humanist rhetoric. Jason talks people out of their homes and talks money out of their wallets. In the meantime, entirely in the background, Reed puts the money to work, gets things done.”
“You sound like you actually like the guy.”
“I do have more in common with him than with Jason.”
Xin chuckled. “That’s a good basis for any relationship anyway.”
“Have you spoken to Jason at all since…since, you know.” Since he shot Danyael?
Xin shook her head. “I’ve been a little busy, and so has he. I think I told you that Pioneer Labs and the city are suing Purest Humanity for damages as a result of the riots.”
“So Jason and his father aren’t best buddies despite what Danyael did to them?” Days earlier, in a final act of mercy, Danyael, dying from a gunshot wound inflicted by his own brother, had filtered the cesspool of his father’s and brother’s psyche and absorbed the worst of their emotions that defined their relationship with each other. The arrival of enforcers from the council had saved Danyael’s life, but Roland Rakehell insisted that Danyael’s memory be wiped. It left the alpha empath with no recollection of his family or of the emotions that tore him apart.
“Ah, so that’s the part that’s not nearly as clear,” Xin said. “Word on the street has it that the charges were filed by the external counsel of Pioneer Labs on behalf of the lab’s investors and employees, but the two lead scientists, Roland Rakehell and Michael Cochran, have been reluctant to throw their weight behind it.”
