Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  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 way 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 t
hroughout 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.”

  ~*~

  Zara watched Danyael as he slept. He did not seem anything like a caged tiger. He appeared younger and vulnerable, the subtle lines of pain on his face smoothed by the anesthetizing effect of a sleep so deep that it was almost a coma. Even when he was awake, his gaze was weary, though his eyes were watchful. There was quiet acceptance in the eyes of a man who had seen too much, been through too much.

  In comparison, Galahad was the epitome of a caged tiger. Galahad possessed the same lithely muscular build, the same flawless features, the same—yet different—black eyes. Galahad’s gaze was strong and compelling, fueled by restless energy. He had been imprisoned for too long, and now that he had a taste of freedom, he could no longer be restrained.

  She knew which one of the two she preferred. It was a shame that she was stuck with the one she despised.

  She glanced over at the clock. The bed in the hotel beckoned. She shook him awake. “Let’s get inside,” she said, nudging her chin toward the brightly lit Hampton Inn.

  Danyael stared wordlessly at her. Zara’s eyes narrowed as the moment dragged on in silence. Was something the matter? Did he need a doctor? She turned on the light in the car. He was not staring at her, but merely in her direction. His eyes were unfocused with exhaustion. “I…I’ll rest here,” he said softly.

  She bit back a sarcastic retort and congratulated herself for her restraint. Even so, she saw him flinch in response to her emotions. “Did you want something to eat?”

  Danyael shook his head tiredly. “No, I need to rest. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

  His promise sounded weak. She shrugged. Not her problem. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” She stepped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Striding toward the hotel, she coached herself not to look back.

  After all, she did not give a damn about him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Alex Saunders, director general of the Mutant Affairs Council, sighed, releasing his breath in a sound that married frustration and exasperation. “What do you mean you can’t find Danyael?”

  Seth Copper’s clear voice came across the speakerphone. “My guess is that he’s left New York.”

  Alex swiveled his high-backed leather chair so that he could gaze out his office window at the magnificent view of the Potomac River as it meandered through Alexandria. “Did he leave with her?”

  “Very likely, though I couldn’t get an accurate report from any of the eyewitnesses near the Avis office. Even a telepathic probe didn’t get anywhere. Most people don’t notice much, consciously or not, when they’re mindless with terror.”

  “So why do you think she’s still with him?”

  “She stayed with him for two days, even though he was violently ill the entire time. No one, except Lucien Winter, has ever stood by him for that long. What’s even more remarkable is that she actively hates him, but she still doesn’t leave.”

  “What’s her motivation?”

  “I don’t know.”

  There was not much an alpha telepath could not know. “I didn’t get the impression that she’s psychically shielded.”

  “I don’t know her motivation, bec
ause she doesn’t know what her motivation is.”

  Alex laughed humorlessly. “Ah, she’s one of those damned ‘spur of the moment’ people. The bane of telepaths and even of pre-cognitives. Fortunately, emotions are a great deal more elemental, and they don’t lie. Danyael may be able to get a better read on her.”

  “Perhaps,” Seth conceded. “Did you want me to track them down?”

  “It’ll be too hard for you, without a lock on Danyael’s mind, unless you managed to get a hook in.”

  “Not without breaking through his shields, and I didn’t think he needed more trauma at this time. Even sick, his shields are impressive.”

  “He’s council trained,” Alex said simply. “How is he doing, otherwise?”

  “He’s angry, frustrated, and drowning in emotions he can’t understand because he doesn’t remember. His words, not mine.”

  Alex sighed. “I think I made a mistake in deciding that the memory loss—however damaging to Danyael—was for the best, and then convincing Lucien Winter of it.” He had not forgotten how integral Lucien was to Danyael’s peace of mind. For years, Lucien had been Danyael’s salvation, and habits were tough to break. Danyael had long since come into his own, but Lucien was still his North Star.

  Decisions compounded on decisions, perhaps mistakes on mistakes. Alex was in a dark and dangerous forest that he could scarcely see for the trees. That admission was especially painful for a pre-cognitive telepath.

  It was harder to admit that he was going with his gut instincts. Nothing resembling coherent logic would support the decisions he had made, or intended to make. It would not be the first time he had gambled on Danyael’s will to survive or on Danyael’s training. He suspected it would not be the last.

  Seth’s voice continued over the speakerphone on the desk behind him. “We need to bring Danyael in. We can protect him. You know he’s in danger out there. He’ll be mistaken for Galahad. With only a human for protection, he will be forced to extend his powers to defend himself, and sooner or later, someone’s going to pay the price.”