Silence Ends

by Jade Kerrion

  Dee nodded. “The council came looking for Danyael, and the Elysium was destroyed in an explosion after Reyes, Dum, and I escaped with Danyael. Danyael insisted Dum and I wait in Aspen while he and Reyes went to see Lucien Winter, but Danyael never came back for us.” Dee’s voice trailed into silence. How different might her life have been if Danyael had come back for them as he had promised? Instead, the council had found them—

  Jessica shrugged. “It’s a good thing we found you instead of the assault group. The assault group picked up Danyael and Reyes when Lucien turned them away. Danyael started training the assault group’s super soldier army, and that army helped save D.C. when Sakti turned on the assault group and attacked the city.”

  “But why did Sakti attack the city?”

  “I think Sakti’s leader, Thomas Maddox, didn’t like the fact that his father and donor, Reyes, was paying Danyael more attention.”

  Dee’s eyes narrowed. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “Jealousy and insanity drive people to do strange things,” Jessica said. “When Sakti attacked D.C., Danyael came up with a plan to stop them. We lured Sakti to Theodore Roosevelt Island—”

  “We? Were you part of the plan too?”

  Jessica chuckled. “Danyael was furious when he learned that I was involved—he has some weird notion about keeping kids out of fights—but I was the only person capable of channeling the combined power of the council’s enforcers. Of course, I had to be there. I was shot by accident, but Danyael healed me and saved my life. I then blasted apart Sakti’s psychic shields, lowered a telekinetic dome, and Danyael lowered his psychic shields.”

  “And then what?” Dee asked when Jessica remained silent.

  “They died. Sakti died, all five hundred of them.”

  Dee’s brow furrowed. “How?”

  “Danyael’s pain drove them to suicide.”

  “He can do that?”

  Jessica shrugged. “He’s an alpha empath. He can do things that telepaths and telekinetics only dream about.”

  “You dream about killing five hundred people at a time?”

  The younger teen flushed. “That’s not what I meant. Alpha telepaths and telekinetics are used to looking down on empaths, and then Danyael comes along and proves, in ten seconds, that we’re not nearly as impressive or invulnerable as we think we are. It’s humbling.”

  “Most of the people from Sakti who died that day were mutants, weren’t they?”

  Jessica nodded. “They could have been any of us if we’d believed differently about the path to social equality.”

  “Wow,” Dee murmured.

  “Yeah, wow. Makes it hard to sleep at night.”

  “But it’s still not fair that the council won’t help Dum just because of something Danyael did.”

  “The council’s not so good at fair these days. Just ask Danyael. The council royally screwed him over. But you know Danyael too, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, for all of a day. We met him at Elysium, and that same night, the council destroyed it.” In her few hours of contact with Danyael, Dee had come to like him. She had asked him to help Dum, and he had agreed, but he had never had the chance. He had, however, protected them through the terrifying chaos when Elysium burned. “Do you know where he hangs out these days?”

  Jessica nodded. “He works at the free clinic in Anacostia.”

  “That’s not far, is it?”

  Jessica looked up from her plate. “You don’t get out much, do you?”

  “No, the council hasn’t exactly encouraged sightseeing.”

  “Well, it’s been a bit hostile out there, especially since the Fourth. No one has the energy to fake normality these days. Anacostia isn’t far from Alexandria, but it’s a total dump. I wouldn’t go there, especially not after dark.”

  Dee snorted. “You’re an alpha telepath and telekinetic.”

  “Which has nothing to do with not wanting to go into Anacostia.”

  Dee looked across the table at her brother. Dum had finished eating and was sitting at the table, his eyes closed as he bobbed in time with his music, oblivious to the world around him. The ache that clawed at her chest was so familiar that she scarcely felt it anymore. She did not want to go into Anacostia either, but for Dum’s sake, she had to.

  2

  The cab driver dropped Dee and Dum off at the junction of the Eleventh Street Bridge and Anacostia Freeway. He pointed to the southeast. “The free clinic is about ten blocks that way down Good Hope Road.”

  “Won’t you take us there, please?”

  He shook his head. “A buddy of mine was carjacked and shot to death just two weeks ago in there. Ain’t nothing good in that place. You kids shouldn’t be in there either.”

  Dee hesitated. She looked at her brother and nudged him once in the ribs. One poke was supposed to be a question, but Dum ignored the apparent question as he stepped out of the cab.

  Perhaps his actions were the answer to her question.

  Dee blew her breath out in a sigh and paid the driver. “Thanks, anyway.”

  The cab peeled away as soon as she stepped out onto the pavement. She shook her head in disgust. “You’d think the devil himself were after him.” Reaching up, she yanked the ear pods out of Dum’s ears. “Stop listening to the damn music. This isn’t a good neighborhood. Keep your eyes open.”

  He nodded. His face, which she supposed was cute enough for a guy, was unsmiling. Dum straightened out of his habitual slouch, gaining two inches on her, and then tugged a heavy leather jacket over his thick sweater. She had wondered why he had dressed so warmly for a mild September evening. Now she knew; the layers of clothes bulked up his torso, creating an illusion of strength.

  She grinned at him. He winked back.

  Together they strode down Good Hope Road. The glow of street lamps seemed too far apart, their meager pools of light devoured by the surrounding darkness. Dee affected nonchalance, but her gaze darted as she scanned her surroundings. Few people traveled along what was almost certainly a main road through Anacostia, and those who did clustered in groups, moving quickly past the graffiti-adorned buildings and barred windows. The predominance of certain red and black symbols were probably gang markers. If only she knew for certain. Living in relative isolation from reality, first in a derivative haven and then with the Mutant Affairs Council, had done nothing for her street smarts.

  Dee ground her teeth. She had to get out more.

  Time crawled, damnably slow. She counted down. Five blocks. They were half way there.

  She wrinkled her nose against the stench, a blend of cheap alcohol and urine, wafting from the gutters. Shadows moved in the alleyways between the buildings. She inched closer to Dum’s protective bulk. He glanced at her and then reached for her hand. His pulse skittered, but his hand was steady.

  Up ahead, a weak fluorescent light glowed over the sign of the free clinic. Three blocks.

  The darkness beside an alley flowed back as four men stepped out of the shadows. They loitered by the building, threat etched into their indolent poses. Urgency surged through her. Fear skidded perilously close to terror. Dum squeezed her hand twice, his grip firm. Steady.

  Her head held high and teeth clenched, she stalked past them. Her heart pounded in her chest. Heads turned to follow her progress, but no one moved. Almost there. She stopped outside the glass door of the free clinic and pushed. The door did not move.

  Dee glanced at her watch and then at the sign pasted on the door. The clinic’s operating hours were scrawled in black marker. It was eight thirty. The clinic had closed a half hour earlier, but the lights were still on. She peered into the empty waiting room. There was a closed door on the far end of the chair-lined space that was more corridor than room, but she thought she saw a flicker of motion behind a desk tucked into a corner of the waiting room. Dee pounded on the door until a middle-aged woman stepped out from behind the receptionist’s desk.

  The woman frowned, shaking her head. “We’re closed,”
she mouthed. The glass was thin enough that Dee could hear the woman speak, her voice reedy and distant from behind the glass.

  Dee had not come all the way to turn back. She slammed her hand against the door. “I want to see Danyael.”

  The woman pointed at the sign on the door. “Come back tomorrow.”

  Dum squeezed her hand three times. An alert. Dee glanced over her shoulder. Four figures peeled off the wall and sauntered toward her. She inhaled sharply and clenched her fists, her fingernails cutting into the palms of her hands. “Damn it, open up.”

  The door on the far side of the waiting room opened. A pregnant woman waddled out, and Danyael limped out behind her, leaning heavily on his crutch. He looked up sharply and saw them through the glass door. His eyes narrowed, but he gestured and said something.

  With a scowl, the receptionist flipped the lock. Dee pushed the door open and rushed in, Dum right behind her. Behind them, four men crowded the doorway. Dee glanced back, and her breath caught in her throat. The men were built like wrestlers and made Dum look exactly like what he was, a scrawny seventeen-year old. The biggest among them, a man skimming just under six foot four, red tattoos scoring his dark shaved head, hurried to the pregnant woman’s side. “You all right, babe?”

  “Yes, yes.” She waved off his supporting hand as she took slow and careful steps toward the door. “He says it’s just false labor.”

  The man’s eyes widened. “You mean the baby’s practicing?”

  Danyael chuckled, a soft and amused sound. “Something like that. She’s due any day now, though. Bring her back when her contractions are five minutes apart and last a minute each.”

  “What if the clinic ain’t open, doc?”

  “Take her to the hospital.”

  “They ain’t gonna help us there, you know it.”

  Danyael grabbed a piece of paper from behind the desk and scribbled something on the paper before handing it to the man. “Call me. I live just two blocks away.”

  A grin split the man’s face, white teeth gleaming. “Thanks, doc. Come on, baby. Let’s get you home.” He wrapped his arm around the woman’s waist and escorted her gently from the clinic. He paused at the door and tossed another grin over his shoulder. “We waited outside to avoid scaring your other patients, but I think we did anyway.” He winked at Dee before turning away.

  “What are you doing here?”

  At Danyael’s harsh tone, Dee flinched. Defiantly, she raised her head and met his gaze. She had never been afraid of him before; she was not planning on starting just then. Besides, it was hard to work up a genuine fear of the thirty-year-old man who sagged so wearily on his crutch. Danyael’s face was drawn with exhaustion. His pale blond hair, cropped short, accentuated the sculptured lines of his face. Under the unflattering fluorescent lights, a nearly invisible scar slashed across his right cheek, from ear to chin. “We came to see you—”

  “You don’t belong here.”

  “And you do?” Dee retorted before she could help herself.

  Danyael looked away.

  Dee seized on his moment of weakness. “We have to talk to you.”

  “You can come back tomorrow. The clinic’s closed,” the receptionist said. She held the door open, bracing it with her body. She jerked her head. “Out. Both of you.”

  “Danyael, please. It’s about Dum.”

  Danyael’s dark gaze flashed toward her brother. The alpha empath’s expression was inscrutable. He sighed, a tired sound. “Go home, Marie. I’ll take care of cleaning up here.”

  The receptionist scowled. “That’s my job.”

  “I know. I’ll take care of it today. Go home.”

  She huffed, snatched up her purse and jacket from behind the desk, and stomped out of the clinic.

  Danyael limped past Dee and Dum to lock the door. “You’re going to have to talk while I work.”

  “Okay.” Dee sank down on a narrow and uncomfortable chair, but instead of filling the silence with chatter, she watched, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as Danyael stepped into a small bathroom and filled a pail with equal portions water and a lemon-scented antiseptic cleaner. Awkwardly, he carried the pail back into the waiting room. Liquid sloshed over the side, dampening the leg of his faded denim jeans. Danyael did not seem to notice. He made another trip into the bathroom to retrieve a mop from behind the door.

  Was Danyael seriously contemplating mopping the room while hobbling on a crutch? Dee pushed to her feet, but Dum beat her to it. Her brother took the mop from Danyael’s hand and nudged his chin toward the row of chairs. Danyael hesitated, met Dum’s gaze briefly, and then nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Is there anything else I can do to help?” Dee asked. “I can talk and work at the same time.”

  Danyael hesitated again. Clearly, he was not accustomed to accepting help from others. “The surfaces have to be wiped down. The antiseptic wipes are underneath the bathroom sink.”

  “Got it.” Dee retrieved the wipes and began scrubbing down the surfaces. She peeked out from under her spiky eyelashes, watching Danyael as he slowly lowered himself into a chair and set his crutch aside. He eased his left leg out and gently massaged his thigh.

  “How’s your leg?” Dee asked, breaking the silence.

  “About the same as always. So, what brings you here?”

  “Do you know Seth Copper?”

  “Yes, of course. He was one of my mentors at the council. How is he doing in his new role as director general of the council?”

  “He’s good. Alex Saunders was fine, I guess, but he is a stick-in-the-mud compared to Seth. Seth gets it, you know. He understands young people.”

  Danyael nodded.

  Dee knew the difference between a listening nod and an agreeing nod. Danyael’s nod had been a listening nod. “Anyway, Seth told us today that the council was no longer allowed to train Dum.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of Elysium’s association with Sakti, and because Dum’s an empath. They’re nervous about him.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Did you want me to talk to Seth about it?”

  “No. Seth offered to keep training Dum on the side.”

  “Sounds good. So what’s the problem?”

  “Seth doesn’t want me in the training sessions.”

  “So what’s the problem?” he repeated.

  “What if something goes wrong in training? Dum wouldn’t be able to tell me. I wouldn’t know unless I were there.”

  Danyael shook his head. “You two need to stop breathing the same air. Seth’s a good guy, and if something went wrong in training, I suspect Dum would find a way to tell you.”

  “I want you to train him.”

  “What?” Danyael looked up sharply. He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

  “Why not? You’re an alpha empath. You know what it’s like to be an empath. No one else does.”

  “I can’t teach your brother. You’ll want someone who knows what he’s doing.”

  “And you don’t?”

  Danyael threw his hand out to encompass the dingy waiting room. “I’m a class-five threat, imprisoned within a twenty-mile radius of the council headquarters, and working eighty hours a week in a job that pays less than minimum wage. What about any of this suggests that I know what I’m doing with my life?”

  “So you’re planning to sit and watch another life go down the drain along with yours?” Scowling at him, she tossed an antiseptic wipe into the trashcan. “This isn’t Dum’s fault.”

  “Of course it isn’t.”

  She did not hear sarcasm in his tone. Deliberately, she pushed her luck. “And if not for you and what happened on July Fourth, the council would have kept training him.”

  Danyael laughed, a short and bitter sound. “You kids start young.”

  “Start what young?”

  “Emotional blackmail.”

  Dee flushed.

  Danyael shook his head. “I’m not doing it. Take Seth up on his offer and have him train Dum.�
�

  “I…” Dee hesitated. “No, I don’t trust him.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Nothing yet. He’s so calm, so reasonable—”

  “That’s not a failing, Dee,” Danyael pointed out.

  “—so confident that he’s right and that you’ll come around to his point of view eventually.”

  Danyael chuckled. “That trait isn’t unique to Seth.”

  Arms akimbo, Dee scowled at Danyael. “Why would he help us? He doesn’t owe us anything. Why would he risk his position as director general of the council and go against a government ruling to train Dum?”

  “Maybe he’s just trying to do the right thing.”

  Danyael’s indifference riled her into snapping out the truth. “I don’t like the way he looks at my brother.”

  Danyael froze. He looked up at Dee, meeting her gaze but saying nothing.

  His silence, oddly, encouraged her to speak. “He watches Dum, all the time.”

  “Has he done anything to your brother?”

  Why was Danyael’s tone so tight, so tense? “No, he hasn’t.” She looked at Dum, hoping that he would verify her statement, but he was once against lost in his own world, mopping the floor to the rhythm of music only he could hear. “At least I think he hasn’t. Dum doesn’t behave any differently around him.” Dee sighed and sat down beside Danyael. “I don’t want to piss Seth off. He’s probably the only friend we have left in the council, but I can’t let him, or anyone, train Dum without me there. Not even you.”

  Dee braced herself for a blast of cold disapproval from Danyael, but she felt nothing. Her eyes widened when Danyael shrugged, apparently not offended. “Trust has to be earned, and you don’t know me.”

  Was that it? “Am I supposed to be feeling differently about this?”

  “Differently? How so?”

  “I thought you’d use your powers to change my mind.”

  Danyael laughed softly. “We’re having a conversation about how you feel. Wouldn’t using my empathic powers to change your emotions be counterproductive to figuring out why you feel the way you do?”

  “I guess. So will you train Dum?”