by Jade Kerrion
Miriya pulled her attention off Danyael, turned around in her seat, and kept her eyes on the road ahead. Stop that self-flagellation, Lucien. It’s very unattractive, not to mention tedious. You’ve been repeating yourself for ten minutes now.
I should have insisted she come along.
And do what? Twiddle her thumbs in the car while we went down to beat Jason up? She’s happiest behind her computers, and I’d like to remind you that she’s also an adult. She made her decision.
So now she has to live with it?
No. So now we go save her ass and you can have the pleasure of saying to her “I told you so.”
Lucien chuckled. That’s something I can look forward to. How is Danyael doing?
Everything considered, surprisingly well. The attack I blasted into his mind this morning would have felled an alpha telepath, but not only did my attack not manage to get past his shields, he followed the path back to my mind, past my shields, in order to strike back. He’s exhausted from keeping you, Galahad, and Zara alive through the fight with those lab creatures, but somehow, he’s still going. And when the truth came out, his shields barely flickered.
Barely?
They did waver, Lucien. It would be insane to imagine that something like this wouldn’t have rocked the foundations of his world. But he regained control so quickly that I barely even felt the pressure against the shields I used to reinforce his. That’s not to say he isn’t hurting, Lucien. I’m sure he is, and badly, but he’s still hanging in there.
I don’t know if the truth was worth this, Miriya.
A bit late for that now. Of course, one could do a whole lot better than having a hate-filled, revenge-driven psycho for a brother, but it beats never knowing.
I don’t know if Danyael would agree with that.
He’s subscribes to the ostrich philosophy of life. Bury your head in the sand, and perhaps, life will pass you by.
That’s not fair, Miriya.
No, it’s not. I do understand why he chooses not to dwell on his past. There wasn’t anything pretty in there, and we’ve got a vivid example in Jason Rakehell as to why dwelling overmuch on your past is never a good idea. But unless Danyael comes to terms with his past, he’ll never really be able to face the future.
Danyael’s doing well.
He’s surviving, not living, Miriya countered. Considering his past, I’d say he’s more than merely functional. In fact, he’s extremely well adjusted. But he lives without hope, without any expectations or plans for his future.
You’re describing eighty percent of the world’s population.
True, but that’s a dangerous frame of mind for an empath of Danyael’s caliber. His only ties of loyalty are to you, Lucien. That makes you especially pivotal.
Lucien tore his gaze off the road for a brief second to throw her an incredulous glance. Me? You’re grossly overestimating the influence I have on him.
You don’t know what’s in his head or behind his shields. I do. She paused briefly. What’s in this for you? Why are you Danyael’s friend?
He was startled. The answer should be obvious to you. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother. We were raised together from the day he saved my life. I was fifteen; he was twelve. He even moved to our Cambridge townhouse to be with me when I went to Harvard, first for college and then for my MBA. Six years ago he finally decided to break out on his own. I think that’s why he accepted the offer from Johns Hopkins instead of Harvard for medical school, and then chose to work in New York instead of returning to D.C. He’s not just a friend anymore. He’s family.
But before he became family, why did you care? He had nothing to offer you then.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed with irritation. I didn’t realize I came across as a shallow-hearted mercenary. Do people need to offer me something for me to care? He needed help, but didn’t know how to expect kindness from anyone anymore, so I gave it to him. It was no hardship for me to protect him, and in return…His mental voice trailed into silence.
And what did you get in return, she prompted when he remained quiet.
Lucien grinned. It was the best damned trade I ever made. I got the most loyal friendship of my life—a friend who wants nothing from me except friendship. He won’t take money. Getting him to accept a gift that’s even fractionally more than a mere token is worse than trying to pull teeth with pliers. Ever since he turned eighteen, he’s insisted on paying his own way, even if it meant going massively in debt to pay for college and medical school. Lucien shook his head sharply. My friendships have always been…complicated. I’ve never really managed to figure out if people were friends with me for my own sake or because of my family’s name, wealth, and influence. Except for Danyael. I know that all he sees when he looks at me is a friend. His grin gentled into a smile, tender and warm. He restores my faith in people.
Miriya smiled too. It was impossible to lie to a telepath, and Lucien’s words rang with so much sincerity that she knew the friendship meant as much to Lucien as it did to Danyael. A rare thing indeed, that friendship. She might have said more, but suddenly she spoke aloud, more for the benefit of the others in the car. “She’s on the move.”
“Where?” Zara demanded, leaning forward to talk to Miriya.
“East…into D.C.”
Zara gritted her teeth. “Damn. At least we know she’s alive. They wouldn’t bother to move a corpse.”
“Exactly.” Miriya smiled thinly.
Lucien swung the SUV around and drove it over the divider on the highway. “How good is that GPS in your head?”
“I’ve tracked people halfway around the world, and I can get within ten feet of her.”
“Good enough,” Zara said. “We should expect a fight. My guess is that they’re taking her to the Purest Humanity headquarters on K Street.”
“You’ve been there,” Lucien said. It wasn’t a question.
“Jason gave me the grand tour once before.”
Galahad glanced at Jason Rakehell, bound and unconscious in the back row of the SUV. “Do you think they’ll agree to a hostage exchange?”
“If they were rational, sure, but I think rationality is at a bit of a premium within their circles. Let’s just assume we’d have to fight our way to her and then fight our way out,” Zara said.
“May I take a look at your arm?” Danyael asked.
“What?” Zara looked at Danyael with annoyance flashing in her violet eyes.
“The bullet wound on your arm.”
“It’s just a graze,” she said, a clear ring of finality in her dismissal.
“Fine.” Danyael’s faint half smile was self-mocking, and he dropped the topic. “Is there a plan, or are we just going to make it up as we go along?” he asked.
Galahad chuckled softly and had the grace to conceal it behind a cough as Zara shot him a slanted glare. “You have to admit, you do have a tendency to…improvise.”
“How much resistance can we expect, Zara?” Lucien asked. He did not take his eyes off the road. He seemed calm, but the grim set of his jaw gave him away.
“Usually just about enough to make it fun. What they lack in skill, they make up for with sheer force of numbers.”
“Watch out,” Miriya warned sharply. “It’s getting crowded.”
At the edge of the city, the conflict between humans and derivatives involved small numbers of people shoving at each other, but those fights escalated into full-blown riots by the time the SUV entered the central business district. The brawls spilled out of buildings and into the streets. Fists, knives, and guns were employed. The police were noticeably absent. Fortunately most people ignored the SUV as it raced past, not that bullets would have done much against the armor-plated vehicle.
“I’d put my money on the in vitros and clones,” Miriya murmured as she observed an altercation end in a fatality. “They’re a bit more motivated and generally in better shape.”
“Which way, Miriya?” Lucien demanded. “We’re just about out of time
here.”
“Straight down. I think it’s coming from the eight-story building with the glass façade.”
“Purest Humanity’s headquarters,” Zara confirmed. She tossed a quick glance over her shoulder. “There’s a welcoming committee coming straight toward us.”
“Human or derivative?” Lucien asked, circling the building as he tried to find a safe place to park his SUV.
“They’re too attractive to be human. Derivatives, probably. My guess is they are converging on Purest Humanity’s headquarters. A bit of generalized fighting wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, you know.”
“They’ll also get in our way. I was hoping to sneak through.”
“Seriously?” Zara looked at Lucien with disbelief. “Sometimes your unbridled optimism gets the better of you. We can’t possibly pass unnoticed with these two pretty boys here.”
Lucien swung his SUV through the gaping entrance of an underground garage, close enough to be accessible if they needed a quick getaway, but out of sight and consequently not an obvious target. The SUV lurched as he drove it down the ramp at a speed that would have been considered seriously unsafe. “I wasn’t planning to take Galahad with us, and Danyael’s relatively good at discouraging any interest in himself.”
Zara bristled. “You can’t leave Galahad here.”
Lucien cut the engine and turned around in his seat. “Zara. The pro-humanists would sell their first-born child for an opportunity to kill him. We can’t just deliver him into their hands.”
“Lucien,” Zara replied with the same exaggerated patience. “There are just five of us against a building full of fanatics frothing at the mouth. We leave Galahad, we lose twenty percent of our strength…more, since some of us can’t fight worth a crap.” She did not look at Danyael, but there was little doubt as to whom she was referring.
“He’ll be safer with us, Luce,” Danyael said quietly. “Miriya, how long do we have before Jason wakes up?”
“At least an hour.”
“If we’re not out in an hour, we’re probably all dead anyway.” Lucien stared thoughtfully at Danyael, and then at Galahad. “All right, you and Miriya keep him safe. Let’s go.”
Zara’s private thoughts, laced with fury, seared across Miriya’s mind. What the hell. You treat me like an idiot child when I say we need to bring Galahad along, but you play along the moment Danyael says the same.
Miriya’s eyes narrowed. She hurled a thought at Danyael. She’s becoming a problem.
Zara?
Is there any other she in the group? Miriya’s mental voice oozed sarcasm. What the hell did you do to her?
I don’t know exactly. I don’t think I did anything to her beyond my usual psychic shields, though I was sick from healing Galahad when we first met. Maybe she just doesn’t like me. It happens sometimes.
She’s ready to put a bullet in your brain, Danyael.
She hates me, Danyael corrected meticulously. She’s still a few degrees away from murder.
I don’t see how you can laugh at this.
I told you before, Miriya. It’s laugh or cry. I think we should just agree that I suck at relationships.
You need to stop pushing people away.
Have you been talking to Luce? You sound almost exactly like him.
Zara likes to believe she controls her own life, her own destiny.
She’s entitled to be delusional.
Miriya chuckled and then continued. She’s going to be furious if she ever discovers you’ve been emotionally manipulating her.
I’m not doing this deliberately or consciously, Miriya. Danyael’s mental voice was laden with the patiently weary tone of someone tired of repeating himself.
I don’t think the distinction will matter to her. She’s going to carve out your guts with a dull butter knife when she finds out.
Oh, now I’m terrified.
Danyael—
He shook his head sharply. She won’t find out. The facts about me won’t matter to her now or ever. I’m too good at what I do—consciously or not. It’d take the equivalent of an emotional hurricane to divert her from her path now. I’m not even sure I could do it, short of absorbing it from her.
If you’re okay with people disliking you, you clearly have an intimacy problem.
That’s something of an understatement, and I don’t think I have enough cash on hand to pay you to be my shrink. I understand my mental and emotional state, Miriya. I know it’s not the best, but it’s a great deal better than it used to be before Lucien found me. And maybe one day, years from now, it’ll be even better. I’ll just take it a day at a time.
That’s a depressing outlook.
Considering we may not live past the next hour, taking it a day at a time is about as visionary as I can feel right now.
Miriya laughed out loud, wondering why Danyael’s understated, wry sense of humor emerged only in his mental voice, and almost never out loud. Lucien looked at her quizzically. “Just talking to Danyael,” she said. “I’m sorry, I must ask again. Is there a plan?”
Galahad walked up the ramp that led out of the garage to take a quick scan of the area. “The mob arrived, and they’re definitely derivatives—in vitros and clones,” he reported. “They’re trying to break down Purest Humanity’s front door.”
“How many?” Danyael asked.
“Hard to say. Forty, maybe fifty.”
Danyael hesitated for a moment, then turned to Lucien. “What do you want them to do?”
“What can you make them do?” Lucien asked.
“I can make them leave, or I can make them very, very determined to get through that door.”
Miriya’s green eyes narrowed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not a good idea, I know,” Danyael agreed, “but it is an option. A mob would be a great distraction, but there’s a chance we’d have to fight them and the humans at the same time. I wouldn’t recommend it. Still, I can keep Purest Humanity’s attention riveted on the front door so that you can enter through the back.”
Lucien nodded. “That sounds like a plan. Let’s find a back door. Danyael, can you keep the derivatives more or less under control and then disperse them once we’re in the building?”
“Of course.” Danyael stepped out of the garage and walked toward the howling mob of people outside the building.
“Will he be safe?” Galahad asked quietly. “Does he need to get that close?”
“Of course, he will.” Miriya shrugged, “And yes to the second question too. Emotions are a type of energy, or at least they behave like energy. They need a medium through which to travel, and for Danyael, it’s line of sight. Obstructions—even windows—tend to get in the way. Osmosis works too, but line of sight is a great deal more effective.”
“This way.” Zara led the way around to the back of the building, located on a narrower, less traveled street with a separate security-protected entrance. “Fewer people, but we’re still on the wrong side of the door.”
“Not for long.” Miriya tossed a casual glance at the two security guards behind the glass door. Their attention was focused on the screens behind their security desk, likely providing live feed from the cameras monitoring the mob outside the front door. Her green eyes gleamed brightly. Without the faintest glimmer of confusion, one of the security guards walked over, unlocked the door, and ushered them in as if they were long-lost friends.
“So you can be subtle,” Lucien murmured.
“Only occasionally,” Miriya said with a faint smile. Danyael, we’re in. We’re moving on ahead. I’ll instruct the guard to leave the door open for you.
The old Jedi mind trick? Danyael’s voice whispered softly through her mind, carrying the same tone of quiet amusement that had infused Lucien’s voice.
Works every time.
I’ll be right there.
“Danyael’s on his way.” Miriya kept her voice pitched low as they strode past the security desk and down the corridors.
&
nbsp; “We won’t even have to fight if you can keep pulling this stunt.”
“It worked on the guards because they were so busy watching what was happening up front that they weren’t focused on their jobs. Besides, they’re just employees, as opposed to rabid pro-humanists. They are largely indifferent to the mission of this organization. We won’t be so lucky with the rest; as I think I’ve said once before, obsession is a really good defense against a telepath.” Miriya paused, hesitating at the foot of the stairs. She reached out with her telepathic senses and felt the pulse tug her unerringly toward Xin. “Upstairs, I think. And get ready for a fight.”
Brother…brother…
The creatures moaned as one, grieving the brother that was dead and the brother that was lost to them. Indifferent to the need to stay concealed as they had through the night, they now moved openly.
There was no need to hide anymore. No one challenged them. Those humans who looked alike in their dull blue cloth coverings, who wielded metallic weapons that flashed and spit out particles, were pitiful. They lacked courage unless their pack stood with them. Only a few humans, back at the battle where their brother had been killed, had demonstrated the strength, courage, and the skill to fight back.
One of them had even demonstrated the ability to kill.
Follow…close now. They lumbered through the streets of Washington, D.C. with surprising agility and grace, in spite of their deformed bulk. The humans who clustered in their pitiful squabbles gave way to them as they passed. No time for petty battles now. An occasional flea-brained human chose to attack, but those fools were torn and killed in seconds, their skin and flesh shredded, bones broken. The corpse was left where it fell, a grim marker to the way they had come.
They did not question the instinct that led them into a forest of metal and glass. The instinct had not failed them. It had led them to the one they sought though that meeting tragically ended in the death of their brother. They knew now. They knew of whom to be wary, of the one who could use pain to turn their strength against them. The human will be with him. The human guards and protects him.
The human must be the first to die.
