by Jade Kerrion
“I guess. So will you train Dum?”
“Didn’t you say that there was government ruling against training him?”
“Yes, but I thought—”
“I wouldn’t care? Dee, I’m in a world of trouble with the government. One wrong step, and they’ll send me back to a maximum-security prison for life.”
“But Seth is your mentor, and he’s director general of the council. Surely he’d be able stand up for you.”
Danyael chuckled without humor. “Alex Saunders was director general of the council and my mentor, and he got me into this hole.”
“Seth said you would want nothing to do with the council.”
“He was right.”
“He also said that the last thing Dum needs is to be associated with a class-five threat.”
“He was right about that too.”
“But the council wants nothing to do with us, and Dum isn’t worried about being associated with you.”
“How do you know? He doesn’t talk.”
Dee rolled her eyes. “He’s perfectly capable of communicating, and I do his talking for him. Won’t you at least ask him what he wants?”
Danyael looked away, releasing his breath in a soft sigh. “Dum.”
Dum did not seem to hear Danyael. How could he with the music blasting in his ears? Dee was about to stalk over to him when Dum looked up sharply, his brown eyes narrowing to focus on Danyael’s face. Had some weird empathic communication just passed between them?
Possibly, and she had been completely left out of the loop. Men!
Dum tugged a chair across the room, turned it around, and sat, folding his arms across the top of the chair.
Dee watched in silence as the two men looked at each other, Dum with his intense brown gaze, and Danyael with his fathomless, sin-black eyes; two empaths connecting through the medium that came most naturally to them: emotions. Seconds turned into minutes, each moment grating like sandpaper on Dee’s nerves. Her gaze shuttled between Dum’s face, as familiar to her as each breath, and Danyael’s sculptured beauty. If she ever wondered before why Danyael had been chosen as the physical template for Galahad, the perfect human being created by Pioneer Laboratories, she stopped wondering at that moment. In spite of the bruised shadows beneath his eyes and the exhaustion evident on his face, his flawless features could have driven angels to tears of envy.
Danyael sighed again, finally breaking the contact. “All right. The clinic closes at eight, but by the time the last patient leaves, it’s usually closer to eight-thirty or nine. Come by then and we can spend an hour working together.”
Dee swallowed hard. “At night?”
“I don’t have any other time. I’m at the clinic all day, from seven-thirty in the morning until the last patient is seen.”
“What about Saturday?”
“Saturday too, and Sunday from noon until eight. I suppose we could work together on Sunday morning, but that’s the only chance I get to see Zara and Laura.”
Great, she and Dum would have to brave Danyael’s wretched neighborhood each night, but at least Danyael had agreed to train Dum. “Won’t training Dum get you into trouble with the council?”
“Probably, but in the grand scheme of things, the council has other issues to worry about. Human-derivative relations are at an all-time low. Besides, if the council objects, I can make a solid case for why Dum needs to learn how to control his empathic powers.”
Dee exhaled, grinning. “You’re awesome, Danyael. Thank you.”
He smiled, a faint curve to his lips. “Save your thanks until Dum makes some progress.”
When the cleaning was done, they left the clinic, and Danyael locked the door before shoving the key into the pocket of his faded denim jeans. “Come on. I’ll take you back to the council headquarters. We’ll have to take the Metro; it’s too hard to catch a cab around here.”
“Is the Metro station far?”
“About fifteen minutes.” Danyael nodded toward the southwest.
“And you live two blocks from here?”
Danyael jerked his head in the opposite direction.
Dee frowned. Apparently, the day had consisted of little more than forcing Danyael to expend more energy than was necessary to keep them safe.
“Don’t worry about it,” Danyael said quietly. “I’d rather be certain that you’re alive than snag an extra two hours of sleep.”
“Do you read thoughts too?”
Danyael grinned, a rare expression of amusement that made him seem younger than his thirty years. “No, but I’m good at interpreting emotions, most of the time, anyway.”
“Aren’t you worried about living here?” Dee asked, her attention on a gang of young men who swaggered across the street, blocking both sidewalks. Under the dim glow of streetlights, she saw the flash of switchblades, idly and skillfully spun between fingertips.
Danyael chuckled without humor. “No reason to be. I’m the baddest thing out here. Take my hand. I’m too slow to chase you down if you decide to run too.” He waited until both Dee and Dum had placed their hands in his.
Dee’s brown eyes narrowed. “Am I supposed to be feeling some—”
The sensation started in the pit of her stomach, quick, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings. Its motion churned into nausea, a sly lick that coated her throat with bile. Her thoughts stuttered to a stop. Harmless shadows morphed into ominous specters. The faintest sound rippled tentacles of fear down her spine.
Only her contact with Danyael kept a small part of her mind grounded in reality. Resisting the retching fear, she watched in silence as the gang members slunk away, their eyes wide with the same terror that had seized her. As the sidewalks cleared, the fear faded, whispering away until it was just a memory.
“What…was that?” Dee asked, her voice little more than a squeak.
Danyael smiled thinly. “Controlled panic. Call it whatever you want. You two need stronger psychic shields if you’re going to hang around me.”
“Would Dum be able to do that too, someday?”
“With training and practice, I don’t see why not.”
Well, it certainly explained why the council was nervous about Dum’s potential.
They spoke little on the trip back to the council headquarters in Alexandria. Danyael was clearly tired, though he did not utter a word of complaint. He walked them to the entrance of the nondescript three-story building, said “goodnight,” and left only after he was certain they were safely in the building.
The carpet was plush beneath their feet, and the lyrical music of a harp piped from unseen speakers. The crisp scent of pine and cedar wafted through the air. Over the past six months, Dee had grown oblivious to the cushioned safety and subtle luxury of the Mutant Affairs Council headquarters, but just then, they struck her as obscenely out-of-place in view of the poverty, deprivation, and danger that surrounded Danyael each day in Anacostia. Lips pursed, her emotions churning, Dee stomped into the two-bedroom suite that she shared with Dum and locked the door before cornering him. “What happened between you and Danyael back at the clinic?”
Dum shrugged, turning away, but she caught his arm. She grabbed a pen and a pad of paper off the kitchenette countertop and shoved them at him. “Tell me, please. I don’t understand any of this…mutant stuff, but I want to.”
He shook his head and pulled away from her, stalking into his bedroom and slamming the door.
Dee yelled after him. “Is that code for ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ or ‘I’m being a jerk’?” She slumped down on the couch, swung her feet up to rest on the mahogany coffee table, and clacked her teeth together as she pondered the difficulties of traveling to and from Anacostia each night. When Dum actually learned how to control his empathic powers, she was certain it would be a snap, but until then, two teenagers traversing Anacostia at night was a sure-fire recipe for disaster or tragedy, and she had no idea how to avert either.
CHAPTER THREE
Dee was no
closer to a solution when she bumped into Jessica at lunch the next day. “Hey, Dee…” Jessica’s eyes widened and her voice dropped to a whisper. “You saw Danyael?”
Dee scowled. She grabbed Jessica’s hand and pulled her into a corner. “Will you keep it quiet?” She dropped her tray of food on the table with an audible thud.
Jessica scrunched her nose as she slid into the seat across from Dee. “What’s the point when your mind is screaming out his name? How is he?”
Dee inhaled deeply and released her breath in a quiet sigh. “Tired and unhappy.”
“He said that?”
Dee rolled her eyes. “Does Danyael ever say anything about himself?”
“Not that I can recall, no.”
“Of course he didn’t say it, but you don’t need eyes to see what’s as plain as day.”
“And he agreed to train Dum anyway?”
“You didn’t think he would have?”
Jessica shrugged. “It’s hard to say. Danyael’s brave or suicidal; no one really knows which. Still, Dum couldn’t find a better teacher, assuming the council will actually allow Danyael to train him.”
“The council’s not going to know.”
It was Jessica’s turn to roll her eyes at Dee. “You’re surrounded by alpha telepaths, and your psychic shields are non-existent. How do you propose keeping this secret?”
“I don’t know. Move out?”
“To where? With what money?”
“Well, a fund was set up for survivors of Elysium—”
“That’s cool. Will it be enough to live off?”
“That’s what we’ll need to find out. Who would know?”
“Seth, I guess.” Jessica’s gaze flickered up. “He just showed up for lunch.”
“Shit.” Dee ground her teeth. Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced around the dining room. Where could she go? Seth, an alpha telepath, would know all her secrets in an instant.
Relax. Jessica’s voice whispered through her head. Act normal.
A heavy pressure settled over Dee’s mind like a Tylenol-numbed headache. Dee cast Jessica a startled glance. Would the psychic shield keep Seth out of her head?
Jessica responded with a sly grin.
Dee’s composure was steady by the time Seth reached their table and flashed a smile down at them. “How are you ladies doing?”
“Good.” Dee answered for both of them.
“And Dum?”
“Haven’t spoken to him all day.”
“Is he all right?”
Dee’s lip twisted. “I’m sure he’d tell us if he wasn’t.”
Seth chuckled but his eyes narrowed.
Icy fingers seemed to crawl up her spine. Dee suppressed a shiver, gritted her teeth, and glared back at him.
Seth’s smile widened.
Amused, was he? Dee raised her chin.
Faint pressure flickered across her forehead, like the brush of ghostly fingertips. Seth’s blue eyes narrowed, glittering. The pressure flashed into white-hot shards and unexpectedly vanished, extinguished before the sharp points of pain could pierce her skull. Dee blinked, shaking her head as if emerging from a dream.
Across from Dee, Jessica sipped her lemonade, her expression serene.
Seth nodded curtly, turned, and walked away.
Jessica waited until Seth was out of earshot. “I think we’ve made a new enemy.”
“He tried to get through the psychic shields, didn’t he?”
Jessica smirked. “He certainly tried.”
“Why didn’t he succeed?”
Jessica tilted her head and frowned as though addressing a developmentally delayed child. “Because I’m stronger than he is, of course.”
“But you’re younger.”
“Age has nothing to do with power.”
“But he’s an alpha telepath, like you.”
“Seth, like most alphas, gained their mutant powers at puberty. They’re typically not as powerful as those who were actually born alphas.”
“Like you?”
“Yes. Most of the council trained are alphas from birth. Danyael too.”
“There aren’t too many of you, are there?”
Jessica shrugged. “Mutant powers gained too early can be troublesome. Many don’t survive it. I was lucky; I did, but my parents couldn’t deal with it, so they gave me up.”
Dee’s eyes widened.
Jessica tried to smile, but the shaky wobble did not pass muster. “It was okay. The council took me in and raised me.”
The familiar ache clawed through Dee. It struck her as odd that she would feel it for someone other than Dum. “How old were you?” Dee asked, her voice subdued.
“Five.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Jessica shrugged again. “Could have been worse. At least they didn’t try to kill me.”
Dee squeezed her eyes shut. In the darkness, she fought for control, struggling to breathe in spite of the heavy pressure against her chest. Images, not dulled by time, flickered behind her closed eyes. She pushed the images away, but could not shut out the sounds. In her mind, Dum’s voice whispered for the last time, “No.” The gunshot was followed by silence…endless silence.
She hated silence.
Jessica’s hand, small and warm, pressed against hers. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Dee opened her eyes, blinking back the memories. She pressed the back of her hand against her eyes. Mercifully, her hand came away dry. She searched Jessica’s face; they had more in common than she had realized. “Will you help me?”
“Do what?”
“Give Dum a chance. I know Danyael can help him; I know he can make a difference. We just need to buy them some time.”
Jessica’s blue eyes lit, and she leaned forward in her seat. “Of course, I’ll help. What do you need me to do?”
“For starters, shield us so no one picks the truth out of our heads.”
“Okay, that’s done. What’s next?”
“Dum too.”
“It’s done.”
Dee frowned. From here?
“Yes, from here,” Jessica answered the question Dee had not voiced. “I’m attack class. I have range.”
“Define range.”
“Halfway around the world.”
Not just miles, but thousands of miles. Damn. Just when she thought she knew most things about mutants, they found a way to knock the wind out of her sails. “You must save a lot on long distance calls. Do you know whether Dum is attack class or—”
“Defense class, like Danyael? Not a clue. Dum would need to consciously use his mutant powers before we start putting him into little cubbyholes.” Jessica shaped a square with her hands.
Dee didn’t fancy the idea of cubbyholes. She had been stuffed into the “mere human” cubbyhole for too long. It was time to break out of her rut. “Finish your lunch. We have errands to do.”
~*~
Dee twitched, rolling her neck and then her shoulders, as the pressure against her mind settled into her taut shoulders. The psychic shields would require some getting used to. “Does it get easier over time?”
Jessica shook her head. “Not really, no.”
“So you go around with a constant headache?”
The younger teenager chuckled. “Explains why some mutants are so grumpy all the time, right?” She paused at the intersection. “Left or right?”
“Left. It’s the building across the street.”
They stepped into the lobby of Direction Hope, a non-profit organization that distributed donated resources after a tragedy. Several rounds of explanations to bored assistants finally won Dee a face-to-face meeting with a program manager.
“Elysium, you say?” The program manager tapped her computer keyboard and stared at her screen. “Can I see some ID, please?”
Dee slid her driver’s license across the surface of the table.
“All right, I do see that you’re listed as a former resident of Elysium, but you’re not eligible
for assistance.”
“Why?”
“Because you and your brother are registered under the Mutant Affairs Council.”
“They’ve been taking the money meant for me?”
The program manager looked over the top of her glasses and frowned at Dee. “No, they haven’t been taking anything from the Elysium fund, but they’ve been covering your living expenses—”
“Well, we don’t want to live with the council anymore. Can I use the money from the fund to start over?”
“We’d have to prorate the funds based on the support you’ve been receiving from the council.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Hmm…” She peered at the screen, her brow furrowing. “Well, this is going to be a problem. Based on our formula and calculations, there isn’t any money left over once you deduct the cost of the council’s expenses.”
Do you want me to change her mind?
Dee frowned at Jessica. The alpha telepath shrugged, her expression one of artful innocence.
Dee turned her attention back to the program manager. “Nothing at all?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” The program manager folded her arms on her desk and glanced at the door. “I’m sorry I can’t help you further.”
When they were back on the street, Jessica asked, “Why didn’t you let me change her mind? I could have, you know.”
Dee shoved her hands into the pockets of her denim jeans. “It would have been too much like stealing. I’m desperate, but not that desperate. I’ll think of something else. Come on, let’s head back to the council office, snag Dum, and grab some dinner. It’s almost time to make the hike down to Anacostia.”
Dum, however, was not back in their suite at the Mutant Affairs Council, nor anywhere in the building. Could he have headed to Anacostia on his own? Dee snatched up her cell phone and called Danyael. “Is Dum there with you?”
His calm, melodic tenor slammed the brakes on her suffocating panic. “I’m with a patient. Hold on, I’ll check the reception area.” A moment later, he was back on the phone. “No, he’s not.”
She hung up on Danyael without saying “goodbye.” She said to Jessica, “I have to find him.”
