by Jade Kerrion
Madge and Damien turned their backs on him. Danyael dropped his gaze to the ground and pressed his right fist against the pit of his stomach. The pressure helped contain the nausea swirling within, churned up by dread, triggered by the unshakeable knowledge that the person who meant everything in the world to him was being taken away.
Pain bludgeoned him to his knees. Danyael screamed, his vision obscured by blinding white light as the pressure on his mind shot from zero to unbearable in fractions of a second. He could not think, could barely move. Only one thought remained. Trap.
He would not go down without a fight. He struggled to stay conscious and reinforced his shields as they trembled. He threw his will, all his strength into the battle.
Don’t strike. Don’t ever strike out unless you know exactly who—and why—you’re fighting.
Because of his training, he hesitated. He reached out, but his empathic senses collided hard against psychic shields. He could not affect their emotions. He could not save himself. He could not see any way to bring their shields down, except—
Voices echoed raucously through his aching head. “Smash his shields now!”
Except through letting go.
“We’re trying, damn it. He’s too strong. We need another telepath.”
He would not be able to hold out against another telepath. He had to lower the odds, fast. He sensed movement around him. Arms grabbed him, pulling him to his feet. His damaged left leg crumpled beneath his weight.
“No, don’t touch him!”
The warning came too late for his attacker. The physical contact was all he needed. Inner shields dropped. His grip tightened as he channeled the nightmares—the only life he had known as a child. They surged out and hammered ineffectually against his attacker’s psychic shields, like waves lapping against a sea wall.
He pushed. It was a ripple. It started small, far out in the lost recesses of memories, the mental equivalent of the middle of nowhere. As the ripple closed in on the narrow psychic channel created through physical touch, it swelled. A force, its massiveness previously concealed by the vast distance it covered, plunged into a narrow gorge.
It exploded, a tsunami crashing through a sea wall as if it were made of paper. It smashed through his attacker’s psychic shields and sank deep. Inky tentacles swelled from its dark heart, reaching out to devour.
Dimly Danyael heard someone scream in pain, a scream that ended in a choked sob.
Another man shouted. “Jake!”
The sobs grew louder, hysterical and maniacal notes resonating through every cadence. The screeching of twisting metal blended with the human cries of wrenching, unending heartache.
“Get down! The lamppost is coming loose!”
“Jake! Put it down! Get a grip on yourself. Put it—no!”
The maddened sobs ended in a piercing scream of relief. Blood sprayed, splattering over him, as the pressure against his mind vanished. His vision cleared. He saw hazy forms, their colors blending against the crimson background.
“You killed him! You fucking killed him!” A voice filled with nervous rage rushed at him.
“Randy! Stop!”
“I can stop him. I know how!”
Violent force smashed into Danyael’s injured left leg, tearing a scream from him. The blow descended again. Injuries, held together only by surgical tape, ripped open. Bandages turned bloody, and his denim jeans stained crimson.
Willpower overrode the instinct to curl in to protect himself. Instead he reached out and grabbed the crowbar as it descended again. He yanked it to him with one hand, reached out with the other, and touched living flesh.
His heart recoiled in denial, but his mind pushed out. Once again, he turned his emotions loose, and once again, the dying began.
Through the cacophony of screams pounding against his skull, Danyael pushed to his feet. He tasted blood. The metallic taste spiked a sharp burst of adrenaline that drove him forward. He staggered across the gangplank and scrambled down the narrow circular staircase at the stern of the yacht. His damaged leg dragged behind him, but he stamped down the pain. The crew shied away from him as he scrambled onto a Jet Ski. He pressed on the throttle. The engine kicked to life, its purr resonant. Broken-hearted, Danyael fled from Lucien’s home, away from his friend, and away from the ruins of his life, in a spray of salt water.
~*~
Alex Saunders looked around, shocked, disbelieving.
How could it have gone so wrong?
Jake Hansen, an enforcer with the Mutant Affairs Council, an alpha telepath and telekinetic, was dead. The long frame of the lamppost pierced his body and emerged on the other end. He had been driven to suicidal madness by Danyael’s unleashed empathic powers.
Randy Russo, the other enforcer who accompanied him, was dead too, his head smashed in with a crowbar, the injuries self-inflicted.
Psychic shields provided no defense against direct contact from an alpha empath, Alex knew with absolute certainty.
Danyael was gone. He had left nothing but a bloody trail.
Alex looked at Damien Winter and Madge Callahan. It was a wonder they were still standing. Their faces were ashen, their eyes wide with horror that verged on terror. They had never seen the full extent of Danyael’s power before.
Alex wished they had not. They had not needed any reasons before to push Danyael away from Lucien. They certainly did not need any real reasons.
Could he avert the dissolution of Danyael and Lucien’s friendship? He had to try. Danyael needed Lucien, more than ever. “Thank you for calling the council. It was the right thing to do,” he said.
“Really?” Damien asked, recovering his aplomb quickly. His dark gaze darted over the two bloodied bodies on his lawn. “I find that a little hard to believe. You’re telling me this went according to plan?”
“No, I underestimated Danyael—both his strength and his willingness to fight back.”
“He’s just an empath. How could he do that?”
Just an empath? When applied to Danyael, that statement was banal to the point of being laughable. “The pain of his memories can drive others to suicide. It turns their weapons against them, their strength against them.” With one touch, Danyael could kill, making him the most effective killer Alex had ever known.
But what happened to Danyael’s training? What happened to the caution that had been painstakingly indoctrinated into the alpha empath? How could Alex have so incorrectly anticipated Danyael’s reaction, so fatally underestimated the strength of Danyael’s psychic shields? How could he have failed Jake, Randy, and Danyael so terribly?
Madge looked away. “I hope we did the right thing, Damien, because Lucien is never going to forgive us for this. Excuse me, I’m going in to my son.”
Damien was briefly silent as he watched his ex-wife return to the mansion. He looked at Alex. “What will you do when you find Danyael?”
“He will be held at a mutant containment facility until he’s found innocent of any charges brought against him and until the government is convinced he’s not a threat.”
“He just killed two men. You told me he’s killed ten others.”
“Likely in self-defense. Danyael has the skills to both heal and kill, but he’s not a killer. He doesn’t have the heart for it.”
“Listen to me, Saunders. I want Danyael permanently out of Lucien’s life. Lucien persists in keeping Danyael around despite all the pressure we’ve been putting on him. Danyael has influenced him, I’m certain of it.”
“You do know that Lucien is the one person Danyael can’t influence?” Alex paused, studying the marked disbelief on Damien’s face. “It’s true. We tested it, many times. Only Danyael’s secondary powers, his healing abilities, affect Lucien. His primary empathic capabilities can’t get through at all.”
“Why?”
“No one knows. Likely some kind of mutation in Lucien’s genes, rendering him immune to Danyael’s empathic manipulation.”
“I don’t care wha
t it is, Saunders. I want Danyael out of Lucien’s life forever.”
Alex swept his telepathic powers quickly over Damien’s mind. He pressed his lips together and looked away. There was nothing to be gained by arguing the point. Lucien was the North Star in Danyael’s life, but if Damien could have pulled the trigger without consequences, he would have killed Danyael himself. Damien would not extend any mercy to Danyael.
“I understand,” Alex said softly. “We’ll keep Danyael away from your son.”
Without another word, Damien turned his back on Alex and returned to the house. Alex inhaled deeply and released his breath in a soft sigh. He looked up at the yacht, glistening in the morning sun. He smiled slowly, sadly, as he reached out with his mind. Miriya.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Galahad looked up in alarm when Miriya whimpered in pain, the sound barely audible over the sound of the helicopter engines. Her green eyes were distant, lost in a world he could not access. Galahad slipped his hands around hers and felt her tremble. “Is it Danyael?” he asked softly. “What’s wrong?”
“Jake’s dead.”
“Jake. Jake Hansen?” Galahad remembered the brown-haired, bespectacled enforcer who had shown up with Alex Saunders and a healer at Pioneer Labs. If not for them, Danyael would have died, and most likely, all of them, too, as Danyael’s psychic shields collapsed. “How? What happened?”
“Danyael killed him.” She shook her head slowly. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Jake and I…we joined the council two years ago. He’d flirt with anything in a skirt. We laughed about the children we’d never have together.”
“You were friends. Do you blame Danyael for his death?”
“Yes…No…” Miriya choked on a sob. “No, he never would have hurt Jake, not without a reason, I know that. Alex can go hang—”
“What did Alex Saunders say to you?”
Miriya swiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. “Alex wants us to find Danyael and bring him in before anyone else gets hurt.”
“No one would get hurt if they’d leave Danyael alone.”
“Exactly.” Miriya gritted her teeth. “Alex is a bastard. He’s trying to strike a deal—”
Galahad’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of deal?”
“He promised to protect you.”
“The same kind of protection he promised Danyael? No, thanks.”
“He said he’d clear the way for you to be recognized as a human being and a citizen of the United States.”
His breath caught. “Can he do that?”
She huffed and folded her arms across her chest. “Maybe—the council has a good relationship with the current administration—but who the hell cares anyway?”
He did. Everything he had wanted and believed impossible was offered to him on a silver platter. “We have to go back.”
“No way. It’s not going to accomplish anything.”
“It’s going to change everything. The endless debate on whether I’m human has divided your people for two and a half decades. We can end that debate.”
She snorted. “You don’t know people very well if you think that a government legislation will keep people from thinking and believing whatever they want.”
“You’re right. I don’t know people well. I was never given a chance, but Alex is giving me a chance now.”
“Lucien and Danyael gave you a chance.”
“To do what? Flee the country and live the life of a fugitive? What kind of chance, what kind of life is that? I shouldn’t have to run. I shouldn’t have to hide.”
Miriya frowned, but without conviction.
She hovered, on the cusp of choosing him over Danyael. He could win her over. His genetic code was supposed to be a treasure trove, the best culled from humanity. If he applied his mind, his will, his desire, he could accomplish anything, even against an alpha telepath.
Emotions are far more powerful than thoughts. Change the emotions and the actions will align. Did the helical twist of genes he inherited from the alpha empath contain more than just Danyael’s rare good looks?
Galahad laid his hand over Miriya’s, his touch purposeful. With physical contact, empathy could transmit past psychic shields; Miriya had told him as much.
He knew better than to push too hard—his chances of deceiving an alpha telepath were slim—but emotions were visceral. She would not be able to distinguish subtle empathic manipulation from gut feelings. After all, empathy was little more than the process of creating shared desire, shared goals. It scarcely mattered if empathy spawned from inexplicable mutant powers or the seductive voice of reason and persuasion.
Her hand, nestled in his, was small and cold. Galahad spoke, his voice lowered. “You said Danyael would never hurt Jake without a reason, but he has a reason: Lucien. He would do anything for Lucien, you know that. He’s already killed for Lucien. Nothing will stop him from doing it again. Nothing and no one, but us.”
~*~
Zara awoke with a sharp jerk. Sleep ripped away, and the sunlight blasted residual cobwebs from her mind. She looked around and relaxed when she saw Xin slouched in an armchair by the window, computer tablets perched precariously on either knee. “Where am I?” she asked.
“You’re still on the yacht,” Xin said. Her tone was uncharacteristically sharp. She uncoiled and shoved her tablets into a small backpack.
“Where’s Danyael? And Lucien?”
Zara watched in silence as Xin stalked up to her. The Chinese clone’s face was impassive but her jaw was set, tight with tension. “Gone.”
“Where?”
“Lucien is with his parents. Danyael is…only God knows where. They were waiting for him.”
“Who?”
“The goddamned council with its trained pets.”
“Enforcers?”
“Yes. They attacked him. Danyael fought back and killed them.”
“Danyael?”
“Yes, Danyael killed enforcers. Two of them. And now this bastard is in here, trying to strike a deal with us.”
Zara turned her head in the direction of Xin’s accusing finger. She scowled. “Alex Saunders.”
“How are you feeling, Zara?”
His calm tone pleasantly contrasted with Xin’s rare belligerency. Still, Zara’s defensiveness was instinctive. She did not usually get along with government officials. “What do you want?”
Alex did not move from his chair across the room. “Danyael escaped. We need you to find him and bring him in.”
“What happened to the twenty-four hours you promised him?”
“Damien Winter was concerned about Lucien’s safety. He seemed convinced that Danyael would not turn Lucien over and insisted that the council apprehend Danyael immediately.”
Zara’s eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize the council answered to Damien Winter.”
Alex refused to take offense. “Our foremost concern is the safety of non-mutants, including Lucien Winter.”
“Not the fair representation of mutants? That certainly explains why Danyael’s getting screwed over by the council.”
“Danyael has killed two enforcers. That isn’t something we take lightly. Can you bring him in?”
“Why would I do that?”
“We’d compensate you handsomely for your time.”
Xin cut in. “And if you take that deal, we are through.”
Zara frowned. “What is wrong with you? Why are you mad with me?”
“Because you are a dumb bitch. I thought you were a heartless mercenary when I started working for you. The ‘heartless’ part, I figured out later, was a façade, but I didn’t think you would get stupid down to such an art form.”
“Stupid?”
“Yes. You don’t like what you’re feeling, therefore it’s wrong? What kind of fucked-up logic is that?”
“Danyael is an empath. You can’t trust anything you feel around him,” Zara said.
Xin snarled. “Danyael would never deliberately hurt you. If y
ou haven’t figured that out yet, you’re an idiot, and I hate idiots.”
Idiot or not, at least the feelings were gone. The odd ache in the pit of her stomach every time she thought of him, the frustrated helplessness of watching Danyael suffer, knowing she could do nothing for him—those emotions were gone. She could think again, unhampered, feel again, untroubled.
Curiously, the hate she recalled feeling for him had not returned. She could not imagine why, other than to suspect that the hatred had never been grounded to begin with. As promised, Danyael had given her a clean slate, a fresh start. Her chin nudged up. She had no intention of loving Danyael ever again, but it did not mean she would turn on him for no reason at all.
“Not interested,” she told Alex. She looked up sharply as she heard the sound of a helicopter.
“That’s Miriya and Galahad returning,” Alex said.
What? She would ream Miriya for bringing Galahad back stateside. What had Miriya been thinking?
“She’s acting in Galahad’s best interest,” Alex said, answering Zara’s unvoiced question.
Damn, she hated being around telepaths. They had no respect for privacy. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“I’ve offered Galahad the council’s protection and representation in seeking full citizenship and recognition as a human.”
“If you can’t protect a mutant, what makes you think you can protect a non-human?”
“Compared to Danyael, Galahad is no threat at all to national security. Besides, the current administration owes us several favors.”
Zara inhaled deeply. “You’re saying that Galahad’s problems are far more easily solved than Danyael’s.”
“Nothing about Danyael is ever easy,” Alex said with a sad smile.
“So what do you want from Galahad in return?” Zara asked.
“Cooperation. Assist Miriya in locating and securing Danyael. That’s it. That’s all we’re asking for,” Alex said.
“Why ask him? Why not send other enforcers?”
“Because Miriya is the only one with a hook in Danyael’s mind. She can find him.”
