Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  Lucien’s gaze jerked toward Danyael. Lucien’s blue eyes were wide, his expression stunned, but he was otherwise unaffected by Danyael’s empathic powers. Their gazes met across the room.

  Danyael smiled, wistful, almost sad. He lowered his internal and external psychic shields, and death entered the room. Danyael watched, his eyes dry, as the men reached for guns and knives, for any weapon they could lay their hands on. The death sentence—the ultimate manifestation of an alpha empath’s power—had fallen immediately; the act of dying took longer. Shots rang out, blades slashed across wrists and throats. One man seized the poker from the fireplace and smashed it against his own head until he collapsed, bleeding, dying.

  The handle on the door jiggled. “Damn it!” Zara’s muffled voice sounded through the door. “Open up!”

  Danyael’s back arched. He pressed his head against the door as his psychic shields locked around his emotions. Pain sizzled down the length of his spine. Only then did he step away and allow the door to swing open behind him.

  Zara burst into the room. “What the…hell?” Her stunned gaze flashed back to Danyael.

  Lucien closed the distance to Danyael in four quick strides. He curled his fists into Danyael’s shirt and slammed him against the wall. Hate blazed in Lucien’s blue eyes. “This is on you. This is all on you. They came for me; ‘Bait for the cripple,’ they said.”

  Danyael pulled Lucien’s hands from his shirt and shoved him back. “You’re safe, and if that’s not enough, send me the carpet-cleaning bill.”

  “What about my security team?”

  Danyael tensed. “They’re dead. I can’t help them.”

  “You can’t help them? They’re dead because someone else was trying to get to you through me. Again.”

  Danyael tripped over his guilt and concealed it behind his hurt and anger. “I’m not—”

  “I will not stand between you and the people who want you dead. Fix this.” Lucien’s voice was cold, the order crisp.

  Reyes’s quiet voice broke through their argument. “Did they really say you were bait for the cripple?”

  Lucien turned sharply to look at Reyes, who had come in behind Zara and Galahad. When he replied, his voice was quiet, once again controlled. “Yes.”

  Reyes sighed. His tired eyes sought out Danyael “Thomas means to hurt me by hurting you, maybe even killing you. The ones you care for are not going to be safe until we stop him.”

  “Will he be back at Sugarloaf?”

  Reyes shrugged. “He’s probably out in the city. Thomas was never the type to sit back and wait for his trophies to be brought to him. Who else could he go after?”

  Danyael’s gaze flashed to Zara. “Laura Itani, but she’s safe with the council.” Miriya.

  What? I’m busy.

  Is Laura still with you?

  Huh? Yes, yes. She’s sitting under the chair and drooling on the tablet Xin gave her to keep her quiet.

  Thomas’s after me. Is there any way to track him down?

  Not really. He’s not a mutant, so there’s no power signature to lock on.

  He’s got to be in the city, somewhere.

  Well, it’s a damn big city and not enough of us to go around. No one has seen him yet, but then again, we weren’t looking. We got our hands full just picking up the pieces Sakti’s left behind.

  You said you couldn’t corral them, but there’s a way. Me. They’ll come for me.

  Miriya snorted. Not only are you insane, you’re suicidal. There are hundreds of very pissed-off mutants, most of them alphas, out there, taking orders from an emotionally and mentally unstable clone who wants you dead just so that he can spite his “father.” And you’re offering yourself up as bait?

  Do you know any other way to corral them?

  No, I don’t. But bait implies a trap. What the hell are we going to do once we have them in one place? Say “Boo?” We can drag the police and National Guard into this, but they’ll be crushed by mutants. The council doesn’t have enough people to bring Sakti down.

  Are there any alpha empaths in Sakti?

  Hold on, I’ll ask Xin. The answer came back several seconds later. No, there aren’t many alpha empaths, and none of them are with Sakti.

  So they don’t know what an alpha empath can do. Really do.

  Yes, that’s a safe assumption. What are you going to do?

  Do you have enough alpha telekinetics to create and sustain a telekinetic dome?

  It would depend on the size of the dome, but—

  Light pressure pulsed against his mind as Miriya’s telepathic fingers probed deep in search for answers.

  Her response was swift. No way. We’re not doing that.

  If you’ve got a better idea, share it.

  Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in, if you survive this?

  Danyael asked pointedly, Will it be any worse than a life sentence at ADX?

  Miriya huffed.

  I’m out of options, Miriya. I don’t know of any other way to keep Zara and Lucien safe.

  Well, it could be the one way to permanently end Sakti’s threat, Miriya conceded, reluctantly.

  Let’s do it. Danyael turned to Reyes. “How do you stay in touch with Thomas?”

  “He has an unlisted cell phone.” Reyes rattled off a ten-digit phone number.

  Danyael conveyed the information to Miriya.

  Irritation spiked her voice. That’s not going to work. All the cell towers are jammed. We’re not going to get a call through.

  Xin’s with you, right? She’ll find a way to route that call. I’m at Lucien’s home, in his study.

  What are you doing there?

  Supplementing his security team, Danyael said dryly.

  Miriya sighed. Guess I was wrong about Lucien taking care of himself. All right, I’ll tell Xin’s she’s been appointed the telephone operator. Stand by.

  Zara scowled at him. “What are you doing, Danyael?”

  “Coming up with a plan.”

  “An idiotic one?”

  He shrugged. “According to Miriya, they’re all idiotic.”

  The phone on Lucien’s desk rang. Danyael held up his hand for silence and limped to the desk. He hit the speakerphone button, accepting the call. “Thomas.”

  A brief silence preceded the snarl. “Danyael Sabre. Is my father with you?”

  Danyael cast Reyes a quick glance. “He’s my father now, Thomas.”

  Thomas spluttered. “You—”

  “Families, like friendships, are earned. You haven’t earned yours. Why else would he be so quick to throw you over for a cripple?”

  “I’ll break your other leg. I’ll break every bone in your body.”

  Danyael’s voice was clipped, cool. “You’re a coward. The Mutant Assault Group supported and trained you. Your five hundred best friends do your dirty work for you. Other people have made you who you are today, Thomas. On your own, you’re nothing.”

  Thomas’s response was an incoherent snarl. “I’ll destroy you—”

  “You can try. You will fail. I’ll meet you at Theodore Roosevelt Island. Bring your friends. You’ll need them to protect you from me.” Danyael disconnected the call and sighed heavily. Miriya?

  We heard the whole thing over here. Are you sure your empathic powers don’t travel over the phone? You’re awfully good at this. Talk about a mind fuck.

  Thomas didn’t need much encouragement to go over the edge.

  Why do all the crazy people get obsessed with you?

  Danyael’s only response was a bittersweet smile.

  Miriya continued, We’ll get our people in place and keep out of sight until you show up. You be careful now, okay?

  You too. Stay safe.

  I’ll be fine. Alex knows I’m critical to pulling your insane stunt off. He’s surrounding me with so many bodyguards, my biggest problem is finding fresh air to breathe.

  You promised to help Lucien.

  I did, and I will.

  Miriya, if…
if I don’t survive this, will you tell Lucien that I got through ADX okay?

  Okay? You’re so far from okay, Danyael. You can’t even spell the damn word. People who are okay don’t come up with plans like the one you did.

  Lucky for D.C. I’m crazy, then. Will you tell him anyway?

  If you think that’s going to help him sleep better at night when I break the hold on his mind, then you really are crazy. Lucien’s not that stupid.

  He gave me every good thing I had in my life. I don’t want him living out his life wracked with guilt just because I screwed up the last few years of mine. It wasn’t his fault. Help him understand that, please.

  Miriya sighed. Yeah, of course I will.

  Zara stepped in front of Danyael. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Absolutely not. I’m taking the super soldiers. No one else is coming with me.”

  “It’s suicide.”

  “So why would you come with me?” Danyael said, his tone all calm reason.

  She growled. “Someone’s got to try to keep you alive.”

  “Nothing lasts forever, especially not life.” He glanced over her shoulder and saw Lucien listening in on an increasingly heated conversation between Galahad and Reyes. No one was paying Zara or him any attention. “I need a favor.”

  “What?”

  A deep ache, impervious to painkillers, lodged in his upper chest. He fought to steady his voice. “If I survive this, they’ll send me back to ADX. Will you kill me before they do so?”

  She stared at him. Her mouth opened, her throat worked, but no sound emerged.

  Danyael took her hands in his, surprised by how cold they were. He stared down at their entwined fingers. “I can’t go back to ADX. I won’t survive long in there anyway, but even one day would be too much.”

  “You want me to kill you.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Make sure you’re shielded—my psychic shields will drop when I die. Miriya will protect you.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because I trust you to do it quickly. I trust you to do it right.”

  Her rich voice trembled. “And I’ll have to live with it.”

  He raised her hand and breathed a kiss on her fingers. “I’ve lived with hate all my life. I’d like it to end with love.”

  “Mine?”

  He chuckled at the incredulity in her voice. “No, mine.” The truth came easily when there was no reason left to hide. “I love you, Zara. I always have.”

  “Get away from her!”

  The backhanded blow caught Danyael by surprise, flinging him off balance and driving him to his knees. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. He looked over his shoulder. “What—”

  Galahad’s face was contorted. His emotions flash flooded, a potent mixture of anger and grief. He seized Danyael, dragging him up. “You destroy everything you touch. You’ve taken everything from me.”

  The warning flare of Galahad’s emotions gave Danyael a split second to twist away. Galahad’s fist plowed into his side instead of into his stomach. Even through the haze of sensation-numbing painkillers, Danyael felt skin slice open and flesh tear. He pressed a hand to his side. It came away crimson and sticky with his blood.

  Reyes and Zara threw themselves at Galahad. Galahad turned on them, hate blinding him. Reyes collapsed, bleeding, cut down by Galahad’s blades.

  “No,” Danyael gasped, stumbling forward to break Reyes’s fall. He cradled the old man in his arms. Reyes’s brown eyes were wide, his face ashen. The front of his shirt rapidly soaked with blood. “Reyes, look at me. Stay focused on me,” Danyael instructed quietly.

  “He wants what you have…” Reyes gasped. “But he doesn’t know how. He tries to take…doesn’t understand that it’s by giving…”

  “Hush, don’t strain yourself—”

  Reyes caught Danyael’s hand and held it away from his body. His voice, wavering with impending death, rang with conviction. “No, no healing. You need all your strength. It’s my time now…” Reyes reached out and placed trembling fingers against Danyael’s chest. “Your love makes you strong. Don’t forget that.” He shuddered, eyes glazing briefly from the brutality of the pain that must have been consuming him. Reyes smiled one last time. “Proud of you…”

  The tension eased out of Reyes’s body as his eyes fluttered and closed. The whisper of his final breath faded into silence.

  Danyael exhaled, the sharp sound dangerously close to a sob.

  Zara’s gasp ripped through his shroud of grief. She slumped against a wall, her hand wrapped around her waist. Blood oozed out from between her fingers.

  Galahad, the personification of lethal grace, stepped into a kick. His booted foot smashed into Zara’s unprotected face, flinging her to the carpet. Galahad spun around, but Danyael was already moving.

  Galahad’s fist swung out. The blade of the knife he held between his fingers dripped with blood. Danyael ducked under the attack, pushing out with the palm of his hand to deflect the direction of Galahad’s blow. Skin touched skin.

  In that moment, Danyael’s choice seemed perfectly clear, channel the deadly power of emotional anguish past psychic shields and drive Galahad to suicide. Zara needed medical attention, and Danyael could not win the fight any other way.

  An image flashed through Danyael’s mind, though, one of white walls and cold white tiles, of a narrow bed, a table, and a single chair. The largeness of Galahad’s suite at Pioneer Labs was accentuated by its emptiness. It was stark, sterile, and dehumanizing, and it had been Galahad’s home and prison for a quarter of a century. A year at ADX almost destroyed me. How could twenty-five years—twenty-five formative years—not have an impact on him?

  Compassion contained the deadly manifestation of Danyael’s empathic powers. His psychic shields never faltered. Nothing, not even a sliver of his emotional heartache, transferred. Instead, physical pain surged out. Galahad’s eyes flared wide as his synapses fired, overloading his mind and stunning him into unconsciousness.

  Blood flowed down Danyael’s side as he gathered Zara in his arms. Her eyes, glazed with pain, met his. Her fingers grasped weakly at his shirt. “It’s going to be all right,” he promised softly. His empathic healing powers wove through her body like silken threads, smooth, nearly invisible, yet startlingly strong, repairing the damage from the inside out. He lifted her shirt and trailed his hand over her stomach, and the open wound sealed. Scar tissue turned into scabs and then fell away. Puckered skin smoothed until all that was left was the smear of blood over tanned, flawless skin.

  His touch on her cheek was nearly a caress. He eased away her pain, soothed the swelling around her bruised and bloodied eye, and straightened her broken nose. His body, still numb from painkillers, struggled with the additional burden of healing Zara, but he would have paid any price to save her.

  She sat up cautiously and pressed her hands to her face, to her body, checking for injuries and finding none. “Thanks. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said, even though he was not certain. He lowered his voice so that only she could hear. “Besides, if I let you die, who’s going to kill me?”

  Zara scowled at him. She glanced over her shoulder at Galahad, slumped unconscious on the carpet. “How long will he be out?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “And Reyes?”

  Danyael lowered his gaze and shook his head.

  Zara was briefly silent. When she spoke again, her voice was brisk. “We need to take care of you. That knife wound in your side is not going to stop bleeding on its own. Shirt off, and sit in a chair. Lucien, do you have a first-aid kit?”

  Danyael peeled off his shirt and sank into a chair in front of Lucien’s desk. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward to pillow his head on his arms. He heard Zara and Lucien moving about the study, but he did not look up. To distract himself from the ache of losing Reyes, he ran through a mental inventory of the medication he had on hand. Another shot of adrenaline would likely get him throu
gh the next hour, and if the pain got too bad, he had four milligrams of hydromorphone standing by. And after that—

  Danyael hissed when a cold, stinging sensation set into his side.

  “Relax,” Zara said. She held antiseptic wipes between her latex-gloved fingers. Carefully she wiped around the serrated edges of his wound, cleaning the jagged tear of skin and flesh. “Looks like you lucked out with a flesh wound. How bad is the pain?”

  “Can barely feel it,” he lied. The pain seeped out from under the painkillers, a dull, grinding ache that promised to escalate over the next hour.

  “You need stitches.”

  “Surgical tape will do, and then bandage over it.” He spared a glance at the first-aid kit that lay open on Lucien’s desk. “If there aren’t enough bandages, just cut my shirt into strips. It’ll work just as well.”

  “It’s filthy.”

  “From my blood. It’s fine.”

  Zara frowned at him but did as he asked. When she was finished, Danyael stood, carefully flexing the muscles in his back to test his range of movement. It was limited, but it would suffice. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the crutch she held out. He turned slowly and paused, surprised to see Lucien standing directly in front of him.

  Lucien held out a clean shirt. “Here.”

  After a moment, Danyael reached out to accept it. “Thank you.”

  Lucien glanced around his wrecked study and looked back at Danyael, his blue eyes hard and cold. “I’m not going to say anything I know I’ll regret later. I’ll be better tomorrow, or whenever Miriya gets around to fixing my head. We’ll talk then.”

  Or never. Danyael managed a faint smile as he pulled the shirt on. “All right. Goodbye, Luce.” He took a final mental picture of Lucien—for luck, for strength, for the sake of life-changing friendships—and turned away.

  Danyael hobbled from the study and struggled down the stairs. Zara had stopped for a short, private conversation with Lucien, but she caught up with Danyael easily. “Where to now?” she asked. “The island?”

  “I’m going to the island after dropping you off with the council. You’ll be safe with them.”

  Peter was outside the house, pacing restlessly in front of his truck. He scowled when they approached. “Thank God, you’re all right. We would have entered twenty minutes ago, if someone called Xin hadn’t radioed in on our very private, top-secret military frequency and told us that everything was under control and to stand down. Who is she, anyway?”