by Jade Kerrion
She flung the door open and ducked beneath the blow that would have otherwise hit her full in the face. She drove her dagger in an arc toward the right. It sank into flesh. Someone screamed. She twisted her blade, and the scream ended in an anguished howl.
Zara yanked the dagger out and kept moving. The dim light spilling in from the corridor sufficed for her needs, and the tiny studio apartment worked to her advantage. There was little space, and she was trained to fight with none. She did not use wide sweeping attacks, just tight, precise blows to disrupt the body's natural flow of energy across its meridians.
The second assailant went down, and then the third.
Unexpectedly, the fourth screamed behind her. His shrill cry of panic rang through the apartment. She spun around. A gun, aimed directly at her, trembled in his hand. His eyes were wide, ablaze with terror.
Danyael had saved her life with his empathic powers.
She reached out, covering her assailant's gun hand in her left hand as she spun with the grace of a dancer into him. The motion was as beautiful as two lovers coming together, with deadlier consequences. Her right hand, loosely gripping her dagger, curved around the front of her waist. The blade sank deep into his side. A sharp twist of the dagger amplified the damage.
Zara pulled out the blade as his weight collapsed on her, his strength vanishing with his final breath. She stepped to the side. Behind her, the bleeding corpse fell to the floor.
Danyael stepped into the studio apartment and closed the door behind him. Only then did he flick on the light switch. If he disapproved, at least he had the sense to say nothing to her.
"Do you think anyone will call the cops?" she asked as she examined the body of the first man she had killed.
"In this place? No. And if they show up, I can turn them back." He leaned against the door, studying each of the dead men in turn before he averted his gaze.
"No identification," she said with disgust as she examined the last body.
"I'm sorry."
She looked up at him. "What did you say?"
"I'm sorry," he repeated as he lowered himself into a chair, the slow and careful motions hinting of the pain and exhaustion that lay beneath the surface. "I didn't think you would get dragged into this."
His comment made no sense. She had started everything when she had broken into Pioneer Laboratories several nights before. If anyone had been dragged into it, it was Danyael. "Do me a favor and define 'this.' Are you saying that there are people after you?"
He looked away.
"Spill it. I hate surprises."
"It...doesn't matter. It was personal." Barely controlled revulsion curdled his even tone.
She was certain it was not nearly as inconsequential as he made it sound. She watched as fear flickered across his face. She crossed her arms. "Obviously something happened before you lost your memories."
"It was Friday. That was one of the last few memories I have of that day. Everything after that is gone." He hesitated before asking softly, "Would that be in any way related to what I don't remember?"
"If it happened before your lost memories, probably not," she assured him. She locked her hands to her side to keep from reaching out to him. "Are these the same people?"
He hesitated. His gaze drifted over each of the slain men, observing facial features, clothes, even shoes. "Actually, no," he said finally. "They're not."
"Are you sure? Do you remember their faces?"
"Only vaguely, but they had psychic shields. They knew what I was, and they were prepared to take me down. These weren't."
Damn. That opens an entire world of possibilities. "Who else could be after you?"
He turned to her with a faint smile. "I don't know. You tell me. You're the one with the memories."
She pulled out her cell phone and hit the speed dial. "Xin," she acknowledged briefly when the familiar voice said hello. "I need names for these faces." Moving easily among the dead bodies, she snapped several photographs and sent them off.
"Got them," Xin confirmed. "I'll let you know what I find. Care to share the context for adding to your body count?"
Zara took a few steps away from Danyael, though it was impossible to have a truly private conversation in the small studio apartment. Her voice was pitched low. "We were out for about two hours. They were waiting for us in Danyael's apartment when we returned."
"What? That's crazy! The warrant was issued just ten minutes ago."
She tensed. "What warrant, Xin?"
"The FBI has taken over the case, and they issued a warrant for Galahad's recovery. In view of the recent chaos in D.C., including the human-derivative riots, the FBI is not going public---thank God---but anyone even remotely associated with law enforcement will see Galahad's photograph. I think you can expect all hell to break loose shortly."
"It did several days ago, and we all survived."
"Not unscathed," Xin reminded her quietly. "But if these charming boys were waiting in the apartment, my guess is that they're not associated with the Feds. The Feds are nowhere near that efficient at getting the word out. Another group is hunting Galahad. Or Danyael."
"And there's no real way to tell the difference until we figure out who they are."
"Right. I'm on it."
Danyael's gaze focused on her as she hung up the phone. "Why is there a warrant out for me?" he asked quietly. If he was afraid or alarmed, there was no hint of it in his voice.
She evaded the question. "Galahad said that your psychic shields repel interest in you. Is it true?"
"Galahad?"
She bit down on her lower lip. "No one you know. How effective are your shields?"
"Under normal circumstances, they're extremely effective, but not if people are looking specifically for me. What's going on?"
She studied him carefully. The edges of a plan took shape. "Pack your bags. We're taking a road trip."
It required all her willpower to refrain from twitching as his eyes lingered on her face, its black depths terrifyingly calm, piercingly perceptive. He was not a telepath. He could not read her mind. He could not possibly know what she was thinking. She had nothing to fear from him.
He asked quietly, "Why are you feeling guilty?"
To conceal her shock and dismay, she picked his backpack off the floor and tossed it at him. "Just pack."
CHAPTER FOUR
The car rental office was eighteen blocks away on Utica Avenue, but it was the longest eighteen blocks of Danyael's life. He reinforced his psychic shields and wrapped them tightly around his emotions. The stranglehold made breathing painful. He kept his face lowered as he forced his empathic powers outward, creating a barrier to deflect attention away from him. Even so, he felt exposed and vulnerable.
His efforts left him with precious little energy to fuel the physical effort needed to cover the distance. Zara's hand in his was his lifeline as she led him through the streets. Each faint noise rang in his ears, filling his head with a cacophony of indecipherable sounds. His vision blurred into indistinct shapes wavering out of focus, colored in shades of brown and yellow.
The medical doctor in him knew that he was on the verge of passing out.
The stubborn child in him---the same one who had survived years of abuse---merely gritted his teeth and pushed on.
He lost track of time. He did not know how long had passed until Zara stopped. Effectively blind and deaf, he stumbled into her and jerked away when her emotions flared with extreme irritation. Motion rustled beside him. "Wait here." Her words echoed painfully through his skull. "I'll be right back."
Danyael sank to the pavement, grateful as the nausea marginally subsided. He brought his knees up, wrapped his arms around them, and dropped his head to rest against his forearms. He counted slowly, the mental effort a welcome distraction from the exhaustion of focusing on himself.
He reached a hundred and started over from one, because it was easier. He lost track of how often he repeated the cycle, but he was working his w
ay through fifty-three when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and shook hard.
"No loitering." A harsh male voice grated. "Get up and get out of here."
He did not think he could move.
"I said get out." The toe of a boot nudged against his side. The pressure increased insistently until a hard kick slammed him against a brick wall.
The man pulled back.
Danyael's empathic senses, dulled though they were from the effort of projecting psychic shields, sensed the jolt of startled excitement surging through the man.
"You! You're the one they're looking for!" Hands seized Danyael and hauled him to his feet.
No! Buried memories of his childhood and the uncertainty of his present blended in a chaotic stew. Panic leaked past his exhausted shields. Free of its constraints, it amplified, resonating like a silent scream that pierced to the marrow of his bones.
The man recoiled, shrieking like a wounded animal. Innocent passersby echoed with shrill screams of unthinking madness as the sliver of Danyael's panic magnified into unreasoning terror and his flicker of fear into full-blown horror.
A hand snaked out, seized his. His immediate instinct was to pull away, but he caught the flash of Zara's emotions, akin to a familiar scent. He followed her lead, even though he could scarcely make out her form through the dark blur obscuring his vision.
"Get in," she ordered, pushing him ahead of her. He felt cool leather beneath his fingertips and stumbled into the vehicle. The car lurched forward and then screeched down the street.
He closed his eyes, grateful for the darkness, and relaxed against the headrest.
"Is this how you keep a low profile?" Zara demanded.
Why did she hate him so deeply? He could alter her emotions, but it would require energy he did not consider worth spending for the sole purpose of helping himself feel better around her. What was the point? He did not need to be coddled. He did not need his hand held. Danyael released a shuddering sigh. I'll be all right.
The words sounded hollow, painfully false.
With no other options available to him, he braced against the disgust pounding at his psychic shields as he counted, slowly and with painstaking care. His rest would be minimal if he could not drop his shields, but to his relief, his heart rate slowed. His heart was no longer struggling to pump enough blood---blood that he lacked to begin with---to fuel his physical exertions. Some of the tension eased out of his shoulders, just enough for him to realize how tightly coiled his muscles had been. He allowed his mind to drift, and within moments, it cocooned itself in darkness and embraced a fleeting oblivion.
* * *
Danyael was out, Zara realized, as she reached for her cell phone. Without taking her attention off the road, she hit a speed dial button and waited until Xin picked up on the other end. "Give me an update," Zara said.
"I'm still working on identifying the faces. So far, all I can tell you is that they're not with the US government."
"That doesn't narrow it down for me."
"I know, I know." Xin sighed. "Give me time, all right? The magic doesn't happen in an hour."
"You'd be surprised how much crap can happen in an hour."
"What happened?"
"A police officer identified Danyael outside the car rental office."
"Damn."
"Danyael did...something that sent the cop and everyone within twenty feet into a panic attack. It was nasty. I---" The memory caused her heart to flutter like a terrified bird struggling to break out of a stranglehold. "I don't even know how I managed to grab him and make a run for it. Thankfully the panic subsided the moment I touched his hand, or I might still be out there, screaming myself hoarse." Zara hesitated briefly. Why did she feel like she stood on the edge of a precipice? She closed her eyes and took a single step forward into a free fall. "I need to know more about Danyael."
"Huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "That's singularly ineloquent, Xin."
"He's with you. Why don't you just ask him about him?"
"He passed out."
"What? It's been two days since they ripped his memories. He should be well on the mend. His physical and mental resilience is practically the stuff of legend at the council."
"He was on the mend until he decided to heal Maria's cancer."
"Maria Sanchez? Carlos's wife?"
"Yes, the same Carlos he chose not to save---not that he remembers. The irony boggles the mind, doesn't it?" Zara's voice dripped sarcasm.
"Oh wow..." Xin breathed quietly. "How is she? How is he?"
There was a smile in Zara's voice at the memory of the radiant mother cuddling her curly haired toddler. "She's doing great. Danyael..." Her voice hardened. "...is an entirely different story. He crashed and burned."
"Healing near-fatal injuries or terminal diseases wipes him out. You think he'd know better about where to draw the line, especially since he's still recovering. Why did he do that?"
"I don't know. He doesn't talk to me."
Xin chuckled. "Could it be you're not talking to him?"
"I talk to him."
"Zara, I know you. I meant talk to him, not toss snide insults transparently disguised as questions at him. He's an empath. I'm sure he knows you dislike him. You don't have to hit him over the head with it. Rubbing salt into the wound at every opportunity? That's tacky. Unworthy of you."
Zara scowled. "He's told me to leave several times now. Said I'd be doing both of us a favor."
"Hmm. It's entirely possible you're slowing his recovery."
"He doesn't need me for that. He's doing a great job all on his own."
"Zara, when you're mad with him, consider for a moment that all of us owe him our lives. Give him a break."
"Don't worry. We'll have lots of time to figure out how to get along."
"What are you going to do?"
"We're going to take a road trip together and create false sightings throughout the US. It'll take the pressure off Galahad." She could almost hear Xin gritting her teeth, and she chuckled at the thought of driving her friend---patience incarnate---to frustration.
"Lucien's not going to appreciate the fact that you're using his best friend as bait," Xin said.
"Lucien doesn't have to know."
"Lucien's not stupid. He'll know the moment you don't dump Danyael back on his doorstep and wash your hands of this entire affair."
An affair she had started when she freed Galahad, the perfect human being, from Pioneer Labs. "I promised Lucien I'd watch over Danyael."
"I'm pretty sure that agreement didn't include going on the run, pursued by mutants and humans alike," Xin countered. "We both know that Lucien's better equipped to protect Danyael. Lucien's got far more money and influence to throw at the problem."
"We'll be fine. I know what I'm doing."
Xin sighed. "If you say so, Zara. Be careful, and don't let your irrational dislike of Danyael put him into more danger than can be justified. Lucien's going to be deeply pissed if you get Danyael killed. I'll be here. Call me if you need anything."
"Can you check in on Maria and keep Lucien calm? I don't want to have to run from him or his people either."
"You want me to lie to him?"
"He's not an alpha telepath. He's not even a mutant. I'm sure you can get away with it."
"You hired me as a hacker. Lying to Lucien wasn't in the job description."
"You're pretty versatile. I'm sure you'll figure it out."
"Things were a lot easier in ancient China, when I had an army of my own. I didn't have to depend on this whole 'subtlety' thing."
Zara laughed. "At least now you've got central heating and air conditioning."
"And flush toilets. Don't forget the flush toilets," Xin added, an amused lilt to her voice. She released her breath in a sigh. "All right, I'll talk to Lucien, keep him from getting too upset that you're playing Russian roulette with his best friend's life."
"Tell me about Danyael."
"What do you want
to know?"
Sometimes the simple questions were the hardest. "I know his history. Tell me about his powers."
"Mutant classification: Alpha. Primary powers: Empathic---Defense class. Secondary powers: Healing. There's a dark side to his powers that remains undefined, mostly because people die when he unleashes it. It makes research hard to do, but they suspect it has something to do with channeling emotional pain. Maybe physical pain too. That's how he killed the abomination that attacked us."
"How often does he cut loose?"
"Rarely. It involves dropping his inner psychic shields, the ones that keep his pain bottled up. There have been only two documented instances: once when he was younger, and the second time a few days ago, when he took down the abomination. Of course he no longer remembers that second instance."
Zara frowned. "That's...odd."
"What's odd?"
Danyael had driven back an alpha telepath without dropping his own shields. What exactly had he done? "Is there any possibility that Danyael could have other undocumented abilities?"
"It's possible. He's council trained, after all."
"Which means what, exactly?"
"He's one of the young alphas raised by the council."
"Some kind of inner circle?"
"Not really. Inner circle implies they direct the council. They don't, at least I don't think so. Some kind of elite backup force might be a better analogy. They're powerful, highly placed, and very influential."
"They must have screwed up with Danyael, then."
"You think so?" Xin asked, her voice mild. "Lucien has access to more money than God, and he'd move mountains to protect Danyael. If that's not influence, I don't know what is."
Zara frowned. "If Danyael's that important to the council, why did they throw him under the bus and allow the Mutant Assault Group to rip his memories?"
"That's a very good question, isn't it?" Xin replied quietly. "It's definitely one worth keeping in mind as you traipse across the country. Whose tune are you dancing to?"
"My own," Zara insisted firmly. "And Danyael's the puppet."
"Don't be flippant," Xin cautioned her. "Danyael is an alpha empath, and by definition alone, he is highly dangerous. Add to that the fact that he's sick and exhausted and has just lost two days of life-changing memories. I say it's a matter of time before he makes a really bad decision, either deliberately or by accident. Be careful, Zara, and don't underestimate him. You're dealing with a caged tiger. There's no knowing when he'll turn on you too."
