Touch No Evil

by A. K. Alexander

  Well, now there’s a chance John might still be out there, alive. And if he is… well, umm… well, what? I don’t know. I want to kill him. But maybe I’ll hear him out. Then kill him. I need a shit-ton of questions answered. But the last thing I want to do right now is start something up with Ayden, no matter how funny and charming the bastard is, or how hard he tries, or how often he’s there for me when I need him the most.

  Argh!

  I slip out of his room and dash into mine. Noah snores contentedly in his space across the hallway from my door. I wonder why I chose Ayden, and not Noah during my nocturnal appeal for human contact.

  As I dress, I ponder that, and I keep thinking about it on the way to the kitchen, passing Noah’s open door. I can’t help but notice he isn’t snoring anymore. Indeed, he’s sitting propped up on one elbow, watching me.

  I wave. Hopefully, this hotel kitchenette has some of the caffeinated brown stuff. One thing about being overseas, the java’s usually high-octane. And boy, do I need coffee.

  Bad.

  Chapter Three

  John Herrel heads out of the building where he’d met his friend Logan Stevens. His feelings storm in a mixture of relief, worry, and determination. Impatience winds up in the mix as well, as he wants to be in Rome as fast as possible.

  Fortunately, the taxi he’d called shows up a moment early. He hops in.

  “Airport, please.”

  The driver nods and pulls out into traffic.

  John wants the man to drive well past the speed limit, but doesn’t ask… yet. It doesn’t matter that a last-minute plane ticket will cost through the nose; he intends to book the earliest flight available to Rome. Hell, he would give everything he had to be with Ky again.

  He tries to calm down and breathe slower. So he thinks about Logan. Being able to shake his friend’s hand again after so long thrills him. Indeed, no longer having to worry about his ability to touch other people without killing them is a profound relief. No longer can he take a life even by inadvertently brushing against someone. He longs to be able to touch Kylie again. No, he needs to touch her. To hold her close again. And never, ever let go.

  Babineaux, the man who had administered the serum, had been in Rome, too. “Had been” are the key words. John had taken care of him. He had killed him swiftly.

  Too swiftly.

  Never mind that. It was over. Next up, of course, he had to deal with Grant Simms.

  In the back seat of a taxicab rushing to the airport, John dwells on the memory of what it feels like to have Kylie’s skin against his. He begins to relax and think about all the things that happened to him, but most of all, the angel visitation.

  The events of the past few days still leave him questioning everything. Had the Archangel Raphael appeared to him and brought him back to his true calling as a healer? At one time in his life, he’d have thought the notion ridiculous. But, after meditating in that sacred monastery in the Judean Mountains, guided by Sister Marie-Luce, it feels all too real.

  Part of his rational self tries to explain it away as the “power of the mind” and all of that, but he doubts it. No—he believes. Nothing else can explain how the poison Simms had inflicted upon him had up and disappeared so fast. While he had long possessed the power to restore his body from injuries as well as heal others, he’d lost that power after Simms’ treatment. His gift had been perverted into a deadly touch, so he couldn’t have healed himself—so it has to be the work of Raphael.

  The whole angel thing must be real.

  But he can’t dwell on that now. He must find Kylie.

  She and the rest of the team have no idea what’s really happened to him. Simms had shown him the fake video that made him out to be a traitor. Perhaps the note he’d sent to the PSI team when he’d brought Hope safely to their doorstep would be enough to convince them that he was still alive, and that he hadn’t betrayed them.

  Walking in on the team unexpectedly would not end well. If he had any hope of getting Kylie back, he’d have to plan things out and do it gradually. Though, having that kid vouch for him might stop them from shooting him on sight and give him a chance to explain himself. Still, he can’t risk it… or her.

  Certainly, the news they were lied to about him will surprise them—if they believe it. Kylie must be struggling with that. Has to be. How will she react to him? Ayden and Noah have every reason in the world to want nothing else to do with him. In their position, he’d react in the same way, but where Kylie is concerned… he stops himself from going down that road of depressive thoughts and tries to turn his mind toward the mutual objective they all face: stopping Grant Simms.

  John doubts the team knows the full scope of the situation they are in. He uncovered Simms’ goal, and knows the ultimate purpose of the GEPSI children. John also learned the PSI team believes Julia Dennison, the daughter of the President of the United States, is the Child of Anarchy, the one who is foretold to bring about the end of the world.

  PSI plans to get to her first, before she realizes her power on her twenty-first birthday. He agrees with their decision to go after her, but given the tight security around the Vatican as well as the Presidential entourage, exactly how Kylie and the team of agents will accomplish that isn’t clear to him yet.

  The taxi comes to a hard stop at the airport entrance. After paying, he rushes inside and makes his way through the arduous process of purchasing a ticket for an international flight. Fortunately, Logan Stevens arranged for a new alternate identity and managed to transfer some of his funds over. For this flight, John Herrel becomes Nathaniel Clarke.

  As he sits in the waiting area for the boarding gate, he thinks back to when he first boarded the plane to New York. There, he considered reaching out to the team, but during the long flight across the Atlantic, he came to the conclusion that they’ll never let him in. At least, not until he proves himself, and maybe not even then. Appearing out of thin air and trying to barge into their project will only disrupt what they all hope to accomplish. Not to mention, it could blow up spectacularly. No, he has to stay back and allow the team to carry out their plan. He will help clean up the mess from the sidelines, as he’s done since breaking free from the private hell where Simms kept him.

  Simms, who had controlled so much of his life. After training at the compound, Simms had ordered John to join an elite team in the Marines, called the Raiders. Once there... John had performed admirably around the world, cleaning up messes... and making them too. All for Simms and his secret missions.

  John sighs, rubbing his face...

  Besides the obvious issues involved in making contact with the team at such a critical juncture, the thought of facing Kylie scares the hell out of him. But he clings to the hope that she’ll still have enough feelings for him to at least give him the chance to explain what happened. He savors the hope of holding her in his arms one day soon. Yes, the time will come. Their reunion will come; he must be patient.

  Soon.

  Eventually, a voice over the PA system calls boarding, and he jostles down the plastic-walled tunnel onto the aircraft that will take him to Rome, and hopefully, back to Kylie. His seat in coach doesn’t have much legroom, but at least he has an aisle one. Better, in case he needs to move fast.

  While his brain chews on how to handle approaching the team, John reclines in his seat and tries unsuccessfully to make himself comfortable. His fitful mind whirls, but he soon finds himself reliving a pleasant moment in his life—with Kylie.

  And he’s never been happier.

  She stands at the edge of the frothy sea, backlit by the dipping sun, the waves lapping at her ankles. He lounges in a chair a short distance behind her, smelling the salt in the air, savoring the warmth of the sand, the pounding of his heart.

  How should he do this? Get down on one knee? Will she think that’s cheesy? She’s not like other women. Tough, worldly, and deadly, yes. Traditionally romantic, not so much.

  While he stares at her, wondering what to do and ma
rveling again at how he’s gotten so lucky, she turns, glancing at him over her shoulder, twisting and laughing as an incoming wave splashes up her tanned calves.

  He rises up on shaky, unstable legs. His stomach flutters and he feels like he’s sixteen again, asking a girl out for the first time, to the prom, perhaps. But a dance isn’t on the agenda. This is the real deal. This is forever. She loves him and he knows it, though he doubts she can love him more than he loves her. They’ll have a magical life together. He wants to make her the happiest woman in the world.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” she says, and reaches her fingertips out to him as he approaches.

  He takes her hand and pulls her closer. “You’re just so beautiful.”

  An adorable blush pinks her cheeks. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He kisses her… and lowers himself down to one knee in the shallow surf.

  Kylie laughs. “Whatever are you doing, silly man?”

  “Baby.” He draws her long fingers to his lips. “You’re my everything. I can’t be without you. Ever. Not for one single day.”

  Those same fingers curl in his grip and her eyes water. God he loves her so much.

  “Kylie Nicole Cain,” he says, “will you marry me?”

  Without the slightest hesitation, she squeals, “Yes!”

  He stands and sweeps her into his arms, hugging her tight to his chest. “I love you, baby,” he whispers against her hair. “I love you so much.”

  For the rest of the flight to Rome, John holds on to that memory…

  Chapter Four

  Breakfast is hell.

  When the awkward silence finally morphs into a toxic miasma capable of damaging our little group, I further admit to myself that I hadn’t a clue what I was thinking the night before. Maybe I should reevaluate my relationship with alcohol. I could just as easily have ended up in the bathtub, right? Noah has to quit acting butt-hurt, Ayden needs to wipe that smug smile off his face, and we all need to get back to work.

  “Guys, there’s a whole lot more important shit going on than our personal drama. We need to get back to work, or nothing—none of this crap—will matter at all.”

  Ayden bows his head, nods, and mutters, “Yeah. It’s the end of the world and stuff, right?”

  “Great. Now, I’m gonna be humming that R.E.M. song for the rest of the day,” says Noah.

  We laugh, and the ice seems to break, although Noah still casts Ayden the occasional sidelong, dagger-filled glance.

  I’ve already used the computer to log into a secured account and retrieve a message from Sister Marie-Luce. My half-sister Hope is with her, and both are safe, thank God. Sister Marie-Luce runs a safe house, of sorts, at a monastery hidden high up in the mountains of Israel. She, and other members of her order, offer refuge to those in need. She is also highly psychic and knows how to take care of herself and those under her care. Few know of her involvement with us. Such knowledge would place her in danger, and there’s no way I’ll ever let that happen. Sister Marie-Luce has gotten me out of trouble more than once and I owe her safety and gratitude, especially now that she’s protecting Hope.

  I miss my kid sister, even if I’ve barely gotten to know her. Doesn’t matter. We are blood, we are both audials, and I feel a profoundly deep connection with her. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I’m sure she feels the same link. As soon as I told her we were sisters, a light switched on deep in her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she wore such a look of heartbreak and hope mixed together, it forged within me a deep-seated desire to protect her. Biologically, she’s my sister, but the love I have for her is more akin to how a mother probably feels for her child. I think so anyway, though I don’t have any children of my own. Yet.

  Hope’s smart for a kid. I know she had some doubts in her heart about her mother. Or at least the woman Simms hired to play the role of her mother. Hope reacted in startled shock, and, of course, tears, when I told her the truth: the woman she spent eleven years calling Mom had been coerced, threatened, or simply hired. Whether or not the woman has any genuine emotional connection to her, I can’t say.

  “Where’s my real mom?” Hope’s question still rings in my ears.

  Yeah, that’s what I want to know, too.

  Merely thinking about what that child has been through fills me with the strong urge to stick something sharp into a tender place on Simms.

  A couple days after we arrived at Sister Marie-Luce’s retreat, Hope made a remark about how strange it felt not sleeping in a room she’d been locked into. Grr.

  When this operation is all over, I make a solemn promise to take her to Disney World. Has she ever been there? I doubt it. We’ve got eleven years of ‘kid time’ to make up for.

  First things first…

  The President of the United States already arrived in Rome and is due to visit Vatican City tonight. Unfortunately, we aren’t on an official assignment. We are rogue, which sounds more romantic than the reality of it. Rogue agents have targets on their backs. Rogue agents live in the shadows and don’t usually last longer than a few days, let alone weeks. PSI might not be the biggest shadow agency the US government has, but we are well-trained, well-funded, and I am passionate about it, so much so that worries about my team keep me up at night. Well, those nights when wine isn’t involved. Moving on…

  My other worry is not knowing if Simms and his experimentation on these children is government-sanctioned or just something he decided to do for himself. I’d really like to think that our government as a whole isn’t okay with what he’s doing. Yeah, I know they’ve done some shady things in the past, but growing kids in test tubes and treating them like animals in a lab goes beyond a certain ethical line.

  Not everyone sees Simms as the evil bastard he is. In fact, I hadn’t either until only a few days ago. For years, I thought of the man as my protector, and a true patriot. Guess I’m not as good at this as I think.

  We sit around a while discussing the hidden message encoded within the scrolls and the possibility of the president’s daughter being the ultimate evil. I also spend about six hours combing the web for all the information I can find on her. She’s largely kept out of the public eye, but what I manage to read portrays her as a reasonably normal, if somewhat bubbly, young woman.

  Julia Dennison has dark wavy hair, a narrow face, and a delicate nose that gives her an almost innocent look. The wide eyes she flashes at cameras help that along. Good grief. If this woman is going to be the end of the world, no one will ever see it coming. In fact, I can’t find a single picture of her where she’s not looking directly at the camera, posing. Even the paparazzi photos look staged, as if she knew they would be hiding there waiting for her.

  Ayden says, “You guys have any idea how crazy all this sounds?”

  “Crazier than time travel?” Noah replies with a little too much ice in his tone.

  “Today’s her birthday, isn’t it?” asks Ayden.

  We all know this, but I follow along. “Yes.”

  “Last I checked, I still get cell reception. Oh, and the TV works. And look—” He makes a show of standing and flipping the light switch on and off. “Power still works!”

  “What’s your point, Connors?” growls Noah.

  “My point should be obvious. Doesn’t really feel like Armageddon. It’s not raining blood. I don’t see any piles of clothing where people have been raptured.”

  “No, just piles of clothing on your floor,” snaps Noah.

  “Next to Ky’s.”

  “Enough!” I yell. “Dammit, guys. Nothing happened. I was drunk as hell and got lonely. Just wanted a warm body next to me. We didn’t do anything but sleep. And my clothes are most certainly not next to his.”

  The guys stare at each other like a pair of gunslingers from the Old West for a few seconds before the tension fizzles out… or at least fades back to where I’m not worried “gunslinger” goes past metaphor.

  Ayden, our resident real-time psychic, has been against the Vat
ican City trip from the get-go. Despite our evidence of time travel that defies all natural laws, he keeps putting his foot down when it comes to the prophecies of Enoch. And yeah, they basically outline the End of Days.

  “Well, the day’s not over yet.” Noah folds his arms.

  “Let me get this straight,” says Ayden, taking his seat across from us again. “You’re arguing for the world ending?”

  “I’m arguing for us to get to the bottom of this,” says Noah.

  “Look, I don’t know what the hell’s going on, but as far as I know, we’re the only people with access to the scrolls,” I say. “Which means, we’re the only ones who know about this prophecy. The Book of Enoch doesn’t talk about the marks of the Christo or of anarchy. The book doesn’t even talk about the land of the Eagle or of Gaul or of the two people who will somehow bring this final war about. But the lost scrolls say otherwise. They give us an edge. And, it didn’t say the world will end the instant the Child of Anarchy gets their powers.”

  Noah nods. “Only we know what the scrolls say. No pressure or anything.”

  “Exactly—”

  “I’ve got some bad news,” says Ayden, looking at his burner phone. “We aren’t the only ones who have this edge.”

  “What do you mean?” I scowl at him for cutting me off.

  “It’s a text from Logan Stevens. Someone raided his office last night. His notes are gone, including the photographs we sent him of the scrolls. Guys, they killed his assistant, too.”

  “Shit. Simms.” I glower at the ceiling.

  “Would be my guess,” says Noah. “He’s been hot for those scrolls for a while now.”

  I push back a spike of worry for my sister. “Not only him, but Jacqueline has been after the scrolls as well. Fortunately, only a handful of people can decipher them.”

  “With his connections, he’ll find someone, and fast,” says Noah.