Perfect Weapon

by Jade Kerrion

  Danyael had no desire to be caught in the middle of a female catfight. "So are you. What's your point?"

  "Congratulations on your daughter."

  "Thank you."

  She allowed the silence to briefly linger between them. "You're not going to talk about it, are you?"

  "No, and that shouldn't surprise you."

  She hesitated. "Danyael, we're lovers."

  "Yes, and whatever happened between Zara and me belongs to the past, her daughter notwithstanding. If you're worried about me running back into Zara's arms, don't be. Her arms aren't open. They never were."

  No, Zara's arms had never been open, but it did not mean that the assassin had lost the power to unsettle him. Seeing Zara again awoke feelings and stirred desire that he was not emotionally prepared to handle, and Galahad's inexplicable accusations had triggered a rare flicker of hope. Could Danyael actually have a future with the woman he had never stopped loving?

  No. Not now, not anymore. I have a different life ahead of me. Danyael's psychic shields clamped down so tightly he had to fight to breathe.

  Amanda refused to abandon the topic. "She's the reason I haven't been able to get through to you, isn't she? You sleep with me, but you never tell me what you're really thinking or feeling. You don't let me into your head."

  "I don't let anyone into my head." That statement was a bald-faced lie; Miriya had taken up permanent residence in his head.

  "I deserve better," she said, her voice unsteady.

  "Yes, you do."

  "So why am I not getting it?"

  "There isn't enough left in me to give it."

  Amanda caught his arm and swung him around. "That's a lie. You love her; I know it." She did not let go when he tried to shake her off. "Why? What's so special about her? Why her?"

  His temper snapped. "Why Zara? Because she started out entrenched in hate, but found a way to love me anyway, in spite of what she wanted and in spite of everything she believes I did to her."

  "Damn it, Danyael. She doesn't love you. I do."

  "Do you?"

  "Don't you know? Can't you feel it?"

  He looked away.

  She laughed, the sound soft and bitter. "You don't know what love feels like, do you? What good are alpha-level empathic capabilities if you can't sense something as fundamental as love?"

  He was an alpha empath. He understood emotions far better than anyone else. He could articulate the differences between panic and fear. He knew, intimately, hate and despair. But love? That emotion was elusive; it defied definition. He could no more describe it than he could seize the wind. Did love, by its very nature, transcend description, or did he have no inkling of its nature, because he had experienced so little of it all his life?

  "Danyael," Amanda said, a hint of a plea in her lowered voice. "I'm here for you. I've been here for you for months. When will what you have be better than what you want?"

  He reached out and stroked her cheek. "It is."

  It was a lie, and they both knew it.

  Amanda sighed and stepped back, releasing his arm. She accompanied him to the general's office; physically, a few feet separated them, but emotionally, they had never been further apart.

  Reyes was with the general and rose from his chair the moment he saw Danyael standing at the door. "You look like hell." He moved quickly to Danyael's side and helped him to a chair. "You need to get off that leg."

  "Thanks," Danyael murmured. He tasted blood in his mouth where he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. He lowered himself into the chair and slowly stretched his left leg out in front of him. His breath caught as he stifled a groan of pain.

  Amanda hovered briefly before settling down in a chair directly across from Danyael.

  The general stepped out from behind his desk, his brow furrowed with concern. "Danyael, how are you doing?"

  "Tired," Danyael said quietly. "It's late."

  "I'll get you something for the pain."

  Danyael shook his head. "No, no painkillers. I need to know what my body's telling me."

  "And what is it telling you now?"

  "That I need to rest." Ten more minutes.

  "It's been a long day for you," the general agreed. "I'm glad your surgery is scheduled for the fifth. You can't keep going around on your leg like that. It's too much of a strain on your body."

  Reyes grinned. "Twenty-four more hours, Danyael, then you'll be as good as new."

  "Good as new" was a stretch, but any improvement was welcome. Danyael smiled wanly and looked up at the general. "What did you want from me?"

  The general rolled his neck. He looked tired, too. "To talk, but I think we should put it off till tomorrow. Or later today, rather, seeing how it's already after midnight."

  "It'll be busy," Reyes said. "I know most of the teams are off for the Fourth of July, but the folks who are at the base are planning an all-day party, including a pork roast for dinner."

  The general nodded. "I know. I have lunch plans, but I'll be here for dinner and fireworks later." He sat across from Danyael, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. "How do you feel now that you've had a chance to speak to Zara and Galahad again?"

  "If you're asking whether I'm irrationally loyal to my former friends, the answer is no."

  Amanda's emotions flashed. Relief. Disbelief.

  The general chuckled. "Your bluntness always seems so incongruous with the non-confrontational stance you project the rest of the time."

  "I'm opposed to using my empathic powers to kill. It's not the same thing as being non-confrontational. Nor does it mean I won't defend myself when necessary."

  "That is true," the general conceded. "Still, I know it can't be easy seeing them again."

  Danyael released his breath in a soft sigh. "Once, I'd hoped that they would come for me, but they never did, and I've moved on. That part of my life is over."

  Reyes's emotions flared with guilt. The scent of it was pungent, wafting past his formidable psychic shields.

  Danyael looked up sharply. His dark eyes narrowed. "Reyes?"

  The old man stared down at his hands, clasped in his lap. "I...ended that part of your life, Danyael. Your friends came to Elysium looking for you. They came to protect you, to take you home. I couldn't let them succeed. I needed you to believe that they were the enemy, that the council was the enemy, so I made Dum shoot me."

  "But Dum was forced to shoot his own father. How could you do that to him?" Danyael's mind caught a glimpse of the truth and recoiled from it. "What else? What else did you do? The explosion in the tunnels?"

  "No!" Reyes reached for Danyael's hand, but Danyael pulled away. "It was a safeguard, to cover our escape in case of an attack. It went off; it wasn't supposed to. I never intended for people to evacuate, but after I was shot, they panicked and fled."

  "What other trap did I walk into? The training accident?"

  The general shook his head. "No, but we'd always known the risks---"

  "It was our job," Amanda said quietly.

  Danyael looked at her squarely. "Was I your job too?"

  Her face paled. Shock gave way to fury. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white. "Do you really think so little of me?"

  The general held up his hand. "I saw an opening and took it. When Amanda was injured, I told Carson to call you. You needed emotional ties to the assault group---"

  "Why?" Danyael asked, voice trembling.

  The general folded his arms across his chest. His back was straight, his head raised. His voice was as calm and cool as always. "It was necessary, Danyael. Would anything other than a tragedy, a massive loss of lives, have compelled you to act?"

  Danyael sank into the chair and buried his face in his hands. "Why didn't you just ask me?"

  "Would you, a doctor by training, a healer by calling, ever have led a military unit of soldiers genetically engineered to kill? Even after the training accident, you held out for two months, in spite of the emotional isolation. You ca
ved only when the people you cared for---Amanda and Reyes---were placed directly in harm's way."

  The older man pressed his lips together, tears swarming into his eyes. "Danyael, I'm sorry."

  "No sorrier than I am," Danyael murmured. If he had been stronger, the general would never have attempted to turn his compassion from a strength to a weakness. It's not the first time, Danyael thought bitterly. Until I become stronger, until I learn to stop needing...wanting more, I'm a liability to everyone around me. Grasping tightly to the armrest, he pushed to his feet and reached for the crutch leaning against the wall.

  "Where are you going, Danyael?" the general asked.

  "Looks like I'm going nowhere." He dragged his misshapen left hand through his hair. His future was tied to the assault group. He had thrown his lot in with traitors. Returning to the protection of the council was no longer an option; the general had made certain of it. "I need to get some rest."

  "Danyael."

  He shook his head. He desperately needed to be alone. "Not right now, Reyes. Please."

  The window behind him exploded, shattering into fragments. The shockwave knocked him to the ground. Danyael rolled over on his back, his head still ringing from sound of the blast. "What---"

  The general was the first to recover, Amanda right behind him. They scrambled to their feet and raced to the broken window. Flames billowed from one of the buildings in the compound. "Barracks B is on fire." The general's horrified gaze flashed toward a blur of motion, a missile streaking through the night sky. Another building burst into flames. The general ducked beneath the spray of broken glass and flying debris, pulling Amanda down beside him. "We're under attack!"

  Danyael pushed to his knees. "Who would---"

  The general's face was pale, ghostly in the orange light of the blaze. "Sakti."

  Klaxons rang through the compound. Soldiers, rudely awakened, scrambled out of their barracks and raced toward the burning structures to save their friends and comrades-in-arms. Danyael braced against the panic washing through him, slamming against his psychic shields. He had to get to Zara.

  Graceless in his haste, he stumbled out of the general's office and through the dimly lit corridors, pushing past soldiers who were racing for the exit. His crutch slipped on the slick tiles. He would have fallen, if Reyes had not reached out to steady him. Danyael breathed his thanks and raced on. The detention level was unmanned; the soldiers on duty had abandoned their posts to save their friends. He paused by the lockers behind the guard desk to retrieve Zara's and Galahad's weapons before continuing on to Zara's cell.

  Zara was pacing the length of her cell with the restlessness of a bored and hungry tiger. She glanced up, easily catching the Glock and the pair of sheathed daggers that Danyael tossed to her. "What happened?"

  "Two of the barracks are on fire. We think it's Sakti." Danyael turned, limping quickly down the hallway to free Galahad too. The cell door slid open. Galahad stood at the threshold, his dark eyes calm. Danyael shoved Galahad's weapons against his chest and looked into the face that was identical to his own. "I want you to get her out of here. Keep her safe. Take Reyes with you."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I need to get to the barracks. I can help Carson with the injured."

  Galahad shook his head. "If Sakti's here, it's because of you. Thomas's going to try to kill you. You'll be safer with us."

  "I can't protect you, and if you're with me, I can't protect myself. Zara's scarcely shielded."

  Zara's voice spiked with annoyance. "Are you both through talking about me as if I'm not here? I have no intention of leaving Danyael behind. Get moving, all of you. We're not accomplishing anything by standing around here."

  "Wait," Danyael said. Miriya.

  What is it? I'm a little busy here.

  I'm with Zara and Galahad. Can you shield them?

  Can you find someone else to help? We have a bit of a crisis here. Someone's attacking our national monuments.

  What?

  All hell broke loose about five minutes ago. Most of the Mall is on fire. The president's scrambling what troops he can. The council's helping out.

  The assault group headquarters was attacked. We think it's Sakti.

  Miriya was briefly silent. That makes sense. We'll be on the watch out for mutants as opposed to run-of-the-mill hooligans.

  I still need you to shield Zara. I need you to link us so that I can heal them through your telepathic link.

  Telepathic healing without me there to keep an eye on you and regulate your intake of their injuries? I don't think so. Just tell them not to get hurt.

  Miriya---

  I intend to keep you alive in spite of your best efforts to get yourself killed. I'm breaking the mental blocks in Lucien's head tonight. After all that work, I'd like him to have a best friend to return to. Now shut up. I have stuff to do.

  "Danyael! Damn it!" Zara gripped his wrist, breaking his telepathic conversation with Miriya. "We have to get out of here."

  He blinked hard, refocusing on her face. "Sakti's attacking the National Mall."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Miriya." Danyael glanced at Reyes. "How many people does Sakti have?"

  "Thousands," Reyes said. "Most of them are derivatives. Only twenty or twenty-five percent are mutants, mostly telekinetics."

  "Be specific," Zara said. "Twenty-five percent of one thousand and twenty-five percent of nine thousand are very different numbers. How many people can Sakti summon to D.C. on short notice?"

  "Less than five hundred, but most of them will be mutants."

  "Great," Zara muttered. "And with most of the assault group out for the count, the council is going to take the brunt of the fighting."

  Danyael's mind raced, scrambling for a solution. "It's two in the morning. If the council can contain the fighting to areas around the Mall, they can minimize civilian casualties. At least until the city wakes up."

  "The council doesn't have more than a hundred or so mutants in D.C. It doesn't matter how good they are. They're going to get crushed by sheer weight of numbers."

  Danyael ground his teeth as he worked through his limited options. "We need the super soldiers."

  "What?" Zara shook her head sharply. "No, you're not serious."

  "You know about them?"

  "Of course. That's why Howard wants you. He's been after you for years, trying to drive you past your breaking point. He took Lucien."

  "He what?"

  "Howard sent mercenaries to kidnap Lucien and put the psychic blocks in his mind."

  "No, that's---" Impossible?

  Danyael sagged against the wall. The general had put his own men in danger. He would not have hesitated if he thought that Lucien stood in his way. No, not now. He reinforced his psychic shields to contain the emotional anguish. He had to keep moving; he had to stay a step ahead of the crippling heartache. "I have to get to the barracks."

  "Danyael?" Zara touched him gently. "Did you hear what I said?"

  "I...can't change the past, and we have other things we have to do now."

  Her violet eyes searched his face. She nodded. "Fine, but this conversation isn't over."

  As far as he was concerned, it was. He glanced down a side corridor. "This way."

  Zara stepped in front of him. "I've got point. Galahad, cover our rear."

  Danyael shook his head. "Zara, you're not shielded. I can't use my empathic powers without affecting you too."

  Zara ignored him. "If I do my job right, you won't need to use your empathic powers." With the Glock in her right hand and a dagger in her left, she set off at a brisk pace down the corridor.

  Danyael gave her terse directions, glancing back over his shoulder frequently to confirm that Reyes kept up. The older man, his face drawn with anxiety, said nothing, but the pained and distant look in his eyes implied that he paid little attention to his surroundings. Danyael reached back and grasped his hand gently, channeling peace through their physical contact. "
It's all right, Reyes."

  Cautious hope flared in Reyes's eyes. "You're not angry? You don't hate me?"

  "No, of course not."

  "I am sorry. I wish we'd met under different circumstances."

  The echo of Reyes's heartache resonated through Danyael. Underlying the guilt and regret was a solid core of respect and affection. In another time and place, it might have formed the foundation for a true and lasting friendship.

  An image of Lucien flashed through Danyael's mind. The familiar surge of regret was tempered with the wisdom of hindsight. If it ends today, I don't want Reyes's last memory to be of me turning away.

  He wove his empathic powers through Reyes's spirit, offering forgiveness. Danyael smiled down at the old man. "I'm glad we met, regardless."

  Reyes's smile was wan, his eyes watery. He squeezed Danyael's hand lightly and then nodded, indicating that he was all right.

  Galahad's emotions, muted beneath psychic shields, flared.

  Danyael's eyes narrowed as he tried to tease apart the subtle nuances between resentment and bitterness. Their gazes locked, black on black, identical yet different. "Galahad---"

  In front of him, Zara's emotions flashed and then cooled.

  Danyael hurried after Zara, rounding a corner to see four men grappling in a battle that was as much physical as it was telekinetic. Mutants.

  Zara did not hesitate. She killed three of the four with perfectly placed shots through the backs of their heads.

  The sole survivor looked up at her, shock reflecting on his face, as his opponents crumpled to the ground. Peter Dieter scrambled to his feet, breathing hard. "Thanks, but how did you know---"

  "Who to kill?" Zara smiled. "Haircuts." She glanced down at the unkempt mops of hair on the three men she had slain. "Non-military issue."

  "You killed them because of their hairstyle?"

  "I'm open to suggestions if you can think of a better way to tell friend from foe, short of using telepathic powers, which I don't have."

  Peter's jaw dropped. "You didn't even stop to think."

  Zara patted Peter's cheek and unleashed a smile with devastating effect. "I'm an assassin. I wouldn't be any good at my job if I hesitated. Just think of killer instincts as a mutant power, if it makes you feel better."