by Jade Kerrion
“Because it has never pretended to involve my life until now. The answer to me is simple. We cannot allow the government to take Danyael away. Once he enters the penal system—even if it’s the mutant containment facility—there’s no telling what it will do to him. The fault lines in his psyche could collapse—”
Danyael shook his head. Could you be kinder with your choice of words?
Andrea turned on him. “Can you live without your psychic shields, Danyael? You won’t be allowed to maintain them in prison. All those fault lines are still there. Put too much pressure on them, and they may very well collapse, to the ruin of all.”
“You’re overly dramatic, Andrea,” John said. “At this time, no one knows what decision Danyael will be expected to make or how it will cascade to impact us. And there are opportunities to divert the path the future will take, isn’t that right, Erin?”
Erin nodded. “John’s right. The visions I see are unclear, because the path isn’t set. There are many ways to change them. I’m certain of that much.”
“But nothing changes the fact that incarceration is a truly terrible predicament for an alpha empath with a damaged past. Everything you want, Danyael—a normal life, a chance to save Lucien—all of that will be beyond your reach if the government takes you. You’d accomplish nothing with your life. Is that what you want?”
John sighed. “You’re pressuring him, Andrea.”
“Go ahead and dispute the facts if you can,” she challenged.
Danyael inhaled deeply and released his breath in a soft sigh. If he allowed himself to be arrested, life as he knew it would be over. If he resisted arrest, what would life hold for him?
“We have resources to shelter you, Danyael,” Andrea said in response to the question he did not voice. “And you have the power to protect yourself.”
“Not without hurting others,” he spoke aloud.
“If they left you alone, no one would get hurt. If they’re foolish enough to try, then the price is theirs to pay. You can’t save people from their own stupidity.”
How could that be the answer? His entire life had been a mission to transform his empathic powers from a curse to a blessing. He had succeeded. Now, Andrea was telling him that abandoning his path was the only way to save himself.
Had the twenty-eight years of his life been for nothing?
Danyael stared down at his hands, one perfect, the other misshapen. His hands reflected the duality of his empathic powers; the ability to heal and to kill, a blessing and a curse. What were his choices? Invalidate the life he had made for himself or invalidate the life he had ahead of him? Either way he looked, he would lose everything he was or lose everything he could be.
He shook his head and refused to accept it. How could those two possibly be his only choices?
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Franklin was prettier than he had imagined. In spring, the forested mountains ridges and lush river valleys, fed by the headwaters of the south branch of the Potomac River, probably teemed with color. In winter, the landscape was bleak—bare trees reached imploringly to the sky—but the fast-flowing river, swollen by recent rain, offered the promise of life. Someday, just not that day.
A time for every season under the sun.
“Was it here?” Erin asked.
Danyael glanced at the sign next to the bridge. Mill Run River. “Yes,” he said. He stuck his hands into the pocket of his denim jeans. His shoulders hunched, braced against the chill air.
“You’ve never been back here, have you?” she asked. Behind them, Andrea and John followed, arms linked, their cold noses nuzzling affectionately.
“Never had a reason to.” He followed her to the edge of the bridge, rested his elbows on the railing, and looked into the water. He had been abandoned on a day in winter, probably like that one. Had the water been high and fast too? How could anyone have expected a toddler to survive?
No, not abandoned, he realized. One abandons a child outside a church, a store—places where the child is likely to be found. Throwing a child into a river in winter—that was murder. Someone had tried to murder him, a woman, his mother.
And Lucien tried to kill me.
“Danyael?” Erin slipped her arms around him. Her fingers covered his.
He inhaled deeply. Willpower kept his voice steady. “Life comes full circle,” he whispered quietly.
“What do you mean?” Erin asked.
“Sixteen years ago, I had to make a choice similar to this one. When Lucien offered me a second chance, I turned my back on my past and chose to live for the future.”
“Yes. It takes strength to walk away from the only life you’ve known. But you’ve always had that strength.”
Did he? Lucien’s friendship meant everything to him, but family mattered so much more. He had destroyed his family; he could not destroy Lucien’s family too. If Lucien’s parents decided not to break the blocks in Lucien’s mind, he had to accept that it was the right decision for their family.
Let go…for Lucien’s sake, for my sake, I have to let go.
The raw agony would have bludgeoned him to his knees if Erin had not held on to him. His psychic shields quivered beneath the onslaught. “It’ll pass,” he said softly, his voice unsteady. The life Lucien had given him was over, but he would find another way. “I’ll be all right.”
“I know.” Erin smiled. “You’ve always been all right. And we’re here to help. You don’t have to do this alone.”
Danyael inhaled deeply. “I know. Thank you.” He quashed the persistent flicker of doubt that he was making the wrong choice. Andrea was right; he had the power to protect himself. And if it means my powers are a curse, then the world is just going to have to deal with it.
He glanced up as a man in his mid-fifties walked slowly down the bridge toward them. “Human. Unshielded,” he said quietly for Erin’s benefit. No threat.
The man nodded politely. “Cold day,” he said.
Danyael nodded in acknowledgment.
“An unusual day for visitors,” the man continued. “Most people don’t visit in winter.”
“You’re a resident of these parts, then?” Erin asked.
The man smiled, charmed by her accent. “Lived here all my life.” He took a single white rose out of his jacket. “I’d give it to you, miss, but I’ve only one and it’s for the boy.” He tossed it over the bridge and watched the river carry it away.
Danyael sensed sorrow in the man, a wistful regret. “You lost someone here?” he asked.
“Well…” The man dragged out the words. “I found someone here. Lost him eventually, though.” He smiled to shake off his melancholy. “It’s a long story.”
“We’ve time,” Erin said with a winsome smile.
“I fished a little boy out of the river twenty-five years ago to the day. He must have been three years old. Maybe less. He was almost dead. I did my best to get the water out of his lungs, gave him CPR, wrapped him in my jacket—this same old one, it was new then, though—and then rushed him to the hospital.”
Danyael stared at the man in disbelief. He clamped down on his emotions.
The man’s shoulders moved in a shrug. The rose vanished beneath the water. “I visited him every day while he was in the hospital. He survived. He’d had a rough life before—several broken bones that had nothing to do with falling into the water—but he was a charmer. Dark eyes that followed me everywhere. A shy little smile, as if he hadn’t practiced enough. I decided to adopt him, but the court wouldn’t hear of it. I was a single man then. I hadn’t yet met and married my Maia. So they sent him off into the foster system. I tried looking for him after Maia and I got married, but never found him. Maybe he died. I don’t know. I didn’t even have a name to work off, so it was pretty hard.”
“I’m sure it was,” Erin said encouragingly. “Still, I’m sure he’s glad to know you tried.”
“Glad” did not encompass the breadth and depth of what Danyael felt. He had been instructed to name his emotions
before acting on them, but that time, words eluded him. Danyael reached out with his empathic powers to take the edge off the man’s pained memories, but nothing happened. Stunned, he stared at the man. The man was immune to him, just like Lucien. It explained the man’s compassion for a young alpha empath who brought out the worst in everyone else. Danyael closed his eyes and looked away. How many years of misery could he have avoided if he had been adopted instead of abandoned to the foster system?
“I’m Erin Byrne.” Erin extended her hand.
“Jacob Johnson.” The man shook her hand.
“And this is Danyael Sabre.” Erin held out a hand to Danyael.
“Glad to meet you,” Jacob said with a grin.
Andrea’s voice broke into the silence of his mind. The enforcer and her friends are here. Others too, many humans, psychically shielded. I also sense Alex Saunders and General Kieran Howard. John and I will take care of this. You don’t have to leave your reunion.
He had to. He could not let Andrea and John fight his battles.
He heard Andrea’s soft chuckle in his mind. Oh, don’t worry. We’re not fighting your battles. We’re leaving you with the thankless task of protecting the oracle.
Great. Thanks. He watched Andrea and John walk leisurely away.
Erin was apparently indifferent to Andrea’s scathing comments. “Do you come back here every year?” she asked, looking at Jacob.
“Yes. Makes a man wonder, you know, what could have been.”
Yes, it did. Danyael glanced at Jacob Johnson’s profile. It made him wonder.
~*~
Zara stepped out of their replacement SUV and looked around. Miriya’s hook in Danyael’s mind had remained intact, allowing them to successfully track the alpha empath to a large park in Franklin, West Virginia. A limousine idled in a corner of the parking lot but the council trained were nowhere in sight.
Miriya joined Zara. “Alex says the Mutant Assault Group has arrived. They’re on the other side of that ridge.”
“Working with them feels unnatural,” Zara said.
“Alex didn’t think we could take on the council trained on our own.”
“I’m going to find Danyael,” Galahad said. He was armed with a long-barrel handgun and a set of daggers, both concealed beneath the bulk of his leather jacket.
Zara studied the bleak expression in his eyes and wondered what he was thinking. She did not have time to worry about Galahad; she had something else she needed to do.
“Wait. So you’re both leaving me? I have to meet the assault group on my own?” Miriya asked.
“You were the one who decided to drag Alex back into this,” Zara said. “And since Alex decided to cooperate with the assault group, you get to babysit them.”
“Zara, you’re not going to make my job difficult, are you?”
She grinned. “On the contrary, I’m going to make it easier.”
The one strength of the Mutant Assault Group was their ability to hurl lots of people at a problem. As an offshoot of the United States military, their missions varied, but frequently came down to hunting rogue mutants. Their task forces comprised humans and mutants under the leadership of an alpha mutant. Correspondingly, one of the many weaknesses of the assault group was its unshakeable belief in the superiority of numbers. They tended to stick together like herds of cattle and were easily tracked. Zara found them within ten minutes, moving through the trees on their way to rendezvous with Miriya.
In the spring or summer, with the land covered in foliage, her task would have been infinitely easier. In the winter, with little cover afforded her, it was more challenging. Nevertheless, an outcropping of large rocks provided her with the perfect vantage point. Zara concealed herself behind the rocks and set up her sniper rifle. She had only one chance to get it right. There were a million reasons why waiting for a cleaner, safer opportunity was the right answer, and a single reason why she was not going to wait.
She wanted to make Tim pay for ripping Danyael’s memory.
Her hand was steady on the rifle. Her focus narrowed to a precise spot in the middle of Tim’s forehead. She regulated each breath, was aware of each fractional muscular shift as she aligned the target. She inhaled slowly, held her breath, and pulled on the trigger.
Three thousand feet away, Tim Brown dropped silently to the ground, blood pouring down his face.
Done. Now to run. Zara spun around and froze, staring into the blandly amused expressions on the faces of Andrea Hunter and John Pendleton. She had not heard them approach. Where had they come from?
Nicely done, she heard Andrea’s voice in her head.
“Up there!” Voices of the human soldiers of the assault group carried up the ridge.
John waved a hand. Small rocks and pebbles skittered, falling from a ridge on the other side of the valley.
“No, over there! He’s getting away!” The sound of racing footsteps receded in the opposite direction.
“Thanks,” Zara said quietly.
John smiled. “Our pleasure. You’re not as indifferent to Danyael as we’d previously believed.”
Yes, she was. Danyael had taken her feelings away. Killing Tim Brown was strictly business.
Zara, what did you do? Miriya’s voice screamed into her mind.
She chuckled softly. Oops….
After a moment of silence, Miriya said, You killed Tim.
Zara did not reply as she made her way quietly down the far side of the ridge. Behind her, John and Andrea walked on cushions of air. For all intents and purposes, they were floating. She shot them an envious glance. Telekinetics were useful to keep around.
“Do you even know which side you’re on, Zara Itani?” Andrea asked.
“I change my mind frequently,” Zara said. “Keeps my enemies and friends guessing.”
Andrea smiled thinly. “You must be a riot to have around. Be careful who you cross, Zara. Someday it may prove to be more than you can handle.” She glanced toward the south. “Here is where our paths diverge.”
“Where are you going?” Zara asked.
“Back to Danyael,” Andrea said. “To save him from the soulless non-human you freed from Pioneer Laboratories.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Danyael leaned against the bridge over Mill Run River, content to listen in silence as Erin and Jacob chattered like old friends. The alpha empath studied Jacob, absorbing every flicker of expression in Jacob’s grizzled face, enjoying the sparkle in his kindly eyes and youthful grin.
“What do you imagine could have happened, Jacob?” Erin asked.
The older man shrugged. “I could have given him a good home. He was little more than a baby, really. It would have been nice for us too, to have a kid. Maia and I never had any of our own. But if he’s still alive, I hope he’s doing well. Living a good life. Making a difference.”
“Making a difference?”
“Yes. Doing some good, you know. I’m a police officer, the only one in Franklin for almost thirty years now. Figured it was my way of repaying the community for all those windows I broke when I was a rowdy lad.” He winked at Erin. His grin was cheeky and made him appear decades younger. “Way I figure it, we all have a debt to pay, some bigger than most.”
“What about the debt that society owes us?” Erin asked.
Jacob shrugged again. “Society doesn’t owe us nothing except a chance to do good. Everything else we have to earn. And keep earning. It’s like the date printed on a bottom of a can. The expiration date. All the stuff we do lasts only so long.”
“And the bad things?”
“The bad things too. Nothing’s forever.” Jacob chuckled. “Take it from someone who’s lived twice as long as you folks. Sooner or later, you always get another chance.”
Erin smiled. “Like the boy?”
“Yeah. If I live long enough, maybe I’ll get another chance to meet him or save another boy from the river. Who knows?”
“If you could see him again, what would you say to him
?” Erin asked.
“Eh?” Jacob scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Never really thought about it like that. Figured we’d sit and chat. Talk about what he’s been doing. What I’ve been doing. I’d ask to meet his family—the one that took him in. His friends. He must be close to thirty now. Maybe he’s got a wife. Kids. I’d like to meet them too.”
Wife? Kids? If only, Danyael thought. He did have a friend, though. He recalled the pride and joy shining in Lucien’s eyes as his friend shook his hand and congratulated him on his medical degree. He remembered the many people he had healed over his two-year career at the free clinic in Brooklyn, the many lives he had saved. He saw curly haired Jose Sanchez and the face of the woman whose children he had restored to life.
In spite of the odds, he had chosen to be a blessing, not a curse.
“Danyael.”
The familiar voice sent a fissure of alarm down his spine. He turned around slowly to face Galahad. “Erin, get Jacob out of here,” he said quietly. He felt Jacob’s startled alarm as Erin urged him off the bridge. Erin and Jacob did not go far. Danyael could sense them hovering off to the side, but he did not look in their direction. He did not dare take his attention off the gun held steadily in Galahad’s hand.
“You’ve reached the end of your road.” Galahad’s voice was cool, deliberately remote.
Danyael realized with regret that his fledgling friendship with Galahad was lost. He could no longer reach Galahad, neither with logic nor emotions. The council’s deal made certain of it. All they had left between them was the end game. “I’m not the key to your freedom.”
“But what if your freedom was the key to their survival?” Galahad shifted his aim. The barrel of the handgun pointed at Erin and Jacob.
“No, don’t hurt him.” Danyael’s reply was immediate, instinctive. He released his breath shakily. “I’ll come in quietly. You don’t have to hurt him.”
Andrea’s voice cut in. “Shame on you, little clone. You’d threaten a harmless human with death to turn Danyael’s compassion from a strength into a weakness.”
Galahad swung around and fired.
