Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  “Did you hit them too hard?”

  He knelt beside the captain of the boat, placed a finger gently against the side of the captain’s discolored neck, and shook his head. “No, but you did. Danyael’s not going to like this.”

  “It’s called collateral damage. It happens.”

  “Danyael would say that’s a choice.”

  She turned to glance at him. “And who do you believe?”

  Zara saw indecision flicker across his face. Galahad had fallen for Danyael’s empathy too. Screw Danyael’s psychic shields, she thought sourly. Their repulsive effect worked only against people who limited themselves to brief contact with him. Anyone exposed to the alpha empath for a long enough period eventually saw past the shields, saw the real person beneath, and liked him.

  “I think Danyael sees the world differently from you and me.” He held out the two Glock handguns he found on the crew. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” She took one from him and confirmed that it was fully loaded. “Have you ever fired one of these?”

  He shook his head.

  She raised the gun. “It’s easy; just aim and fire. The three safeties are built into the fire control system. They disengage when you pull the trigger and reengage when the trigger is released. With your innate abilities, I have no doubt you’ll get the aiming part right.” She watched him mimic her actions to check for ammunition in the gun. “Galahad, we have no friends in there. When you shoot that gun, aim to kill. I don’t want to have to fight people twice.”

  ~*~

  Galahad glanced at the approaching dock and the two men waiting there, ready to receive the boat. Without hesitation, he raised his gun and took careful aim. More than instinct guided him. Exquisitely selected genes enhanced by thousands of hours of training took over. He had never fired a gun before, but perfect kinesthetic awareness made him more than just a fast learner. It made him a natural.

  He adjusted for the speed of the boat, the rhythmic rocking against the waves, wind speed and direction, even for the glare of the setting sun reflecting off the water. He fired.

  Moments later, on the dock, a man crumpled to his knees, a single bullet wound in the middle of his forehead. The other man stood and gaped, rooted in shock. Before he could turn to run, another bullet sliced with deadly precision through the air, piercing his forehead and killing him instantly.

  As Galahad lowered his weapon, Zara gave him a long, steady look. “I don’t think you’ll have to worry about being able to make a living.”

  “I hadn’t planned that far ahead, but thank you for the reassurance,” he said. His smile reflected little of the conflict he felt within as he looked at the weapon in his hand.

  What had Pioneer Labs created? Had they united his natural intelligence and physical aptitude and created the perfect assassin?

  It was a choice, wasn’t it? That was what Danyael had told him. With a touch, the alpha empath could heal or kill. For Danyael, it always came down to a choice.

  It was a choice for Galahad too. For now, I choose this.

  ~*~

  Danyael and Miriya abandoned all pretense of stealth. They sprinted to the house and broke in through a side door, into an immaculate kitchen. The kitchen staff looked up, startled. Danyael’s empathic powers flashed. Panic screamed through the kitchen staff. They bolted, stampeding away from Danyael, almost crushing each other in an attempt to flee.

  “Lucien’s upstairs.” Miriya nudged her chin toward the service stairwell. “This will be fast, if you keep chasing them away.”

  “It’s less painful for them than a psi-blast.”

  “This could come back to bite us in the ass. It’s stupid to leave people alive or conscious.”

  “I’m not going to kill.”

  Miriya shrugged. “It’s probably a good thing you’re not moving with Zara and Galahad.”

  “Are they killing? I told them—”

  “They’re not killing deliberately, but there’s a bit of…collateral damage. That’s what Zara’s calling it, anyway.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Don’t let your conscience get in the way of doing what you came to do. Let’s find Lucien. You can heal the wounded later, if you still feel bad about it.”

  Danyael took the steps two at a time. The narrow stairway opened into a long corridor, flanked on either side by closed doors. It was too empty, too quiet. His empathic powers could not pass through walls or sealed doors, and he was completely dependent on Miriya’s telepathic ability. “Which one?” he asked.

  Green eyes narrowed. She was briefly silent. “Last one on the right. He’s alone.”

  Danyael turned and raced down the corridor, Miriya behind him. He placed his hand on the door handle and turned it easily. The door was not locked. Why wasn’t it?

  Everything felt wrong.

  A subtle sensation sizzled against his skin as he entered the room. Lucien stood by the window, his back to him. He took a cautious step forward. “Luce?”

  Miriya screamed.

  Danyael spun around as she staggered, her eyes wide. Her brow furrowed with pain, she reached out with a careful hand. Sparks flew, the energy forcing her to recoil. “I can’t get through. The room’s protected by a biometric security system. It’s scanning for brainwave patterns. It let you through. It’s a goddamned trap. Get out.”

  “Not without Lucien. Xin, can you hack it?”

  “I’ll do my best,” Xin promised from the yacht. “Now that I know you’re the key, I can reverse engineer the codes.”

  “Do it fast.” He turned to his friend. “Luce, we have to get out of here.”

  Lucien quickly crossed the breadth of the room to him.

  The attack came without warning. Danyael’s head snapped back. The impact from Lucien’s backhanded blow sent him reeling, and he crashed against the wall. He staggered and looked up, shocked.

  His empathic powers had never had any effect on Lucien, but he had always been able to sense his friend. Not anymore.

  More than psychic shields stood in the way. Lucien’s brilliant blue eyes were utterly blank.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Zara slunk down in the bushes, watching Galahad as he led the way. He moved with a certainty, a fluidity that betrayed no evidence whatsoever of the fact that he was making it up as he went along. God, what an incredibly fast learner, Zara marveled as she watched him take point, using trees and rocks as cover, all from watching her for thirty seconds.

  He crouched behind a rock, glanced over his shoulder, and nodded at her. The coast was clear.

  She followed in his footsteps, joining him behind the rock. “The hundred feet leading up to the side door will be tough,” she cautioned him. “Open ground, and I can’t tell if there’s anyone behind those shaded windows. On my count, make a run for the door. I’ll cover you.”

  Galahad nodded.

  She brought her weapon up. “Three. Two. One. Go!”

  He set off at a sprint. Immediately, separate bursts of gunfire came from the house. Zara pushed up from behind the rock and pulled off two quick shots at the window on the first floor. She heard a cry of pain. Got you, she thought with satisfaction. The rattle of gunfire continued from a window on the other side of the house.

  She ducked behind the rock. She did not have a clear shot into that window, not without coming out from behind cover. Crouching low, she inched out slowly, but was driven back as bullets ripped up the lawn in front of her. A careful glance over the top of the rock confirmed that Galahad had made it safely to the door. She would have to get there herself.

  Galahad ran with swift and silent grace along the wall. Her heartbeat raced as he crouched next to the open window. What was he trying to do? He waited as she did, listening intently to the rhythmic burst. Was he counting down the shots?

  The sound of gunfire paused. The shooter was reloading his weapon.

  Galahad pushed to his feet, stepped into full view of the open window, and fired a single point-blank shot. The shoot
er’s startled cry was cut off in mid-scream.

  Zara sprinted up to him. “Crazy stunt.” She ducked her head and climbed in through the open window. Her eyebrows arched as she assessed the bullet wound in the center of the man’s forehead. “Nice shot. Could have been risky if you’d missed.”

  “There wasn’t much chance of that. I knew exactly where he was.”

  “How?”

  “Sound, of course.”

  Zara nodded thoughtfully. Galahad did not have Miriya’s flashy telepathic powers or Danyael’s subtly irresistible empathic powers, but the kinesthetic awareness coded into Galahad’s genes was amazing. Spatial awareness that verged on uncanny, and reflexes to match? The stunt he pulled would have been par for the course for him.

  Miriya’s telepathic shout pierced her thoughts. Hurry. Danyael’s getting his ass kicked.

  “By whom?” she asked aloud, in part for Galahad’s benefit, since he was also privy to Miriya’s telepathic communication.

  Lucien.

  She froze. “What?”

  Hurry. Please. I don’t know how much longer Danyael can hold out.

  “Where are you?”

  Second floor, the farthest eastern door.

  Moving with the seamless coordination and fluid ease of trained professionals, Zara and Galahad cut a path through the ground floor. They met with surprisingly little resistance, a fact that did not pass unnoticed.

  “Is this normal?” Galahad asked quietly as they passed through yet another unoccupied room.

  Zara shrugged, flicking a quick glance over the room, furnished in a casually expensive island style. Bookcases lined the far wall, and a piano stood in the corner by the unlit fireplace. Huge vases of exotic flowers decorated shelves and tables around the library. Comfortable armchairs and recliners were arranged in clusters, for personal conversations or quiet reading. Where was everybody? How much more blatant could the trap be?

  Despite knowing that fact, Danyael had walked straight into it anyway. Idiot.

  “Keep going,” was all she said.

  With weapons poised, they turned the corner and found themselves in the main foyer. Grand double doors dominated the room. On either side of the circular room, staircases curved up to the second floor.

  Zara took the steps two at a time. Galahad covered her until she reached the top. Still nothing. No one. The tension of not finding any meaningful opposition was worse than having to crawl through a firefight.

  Miriya responded to her unvoiced question. Danyael chased most of them away.

  “What for?” she snapped. “We’d have to fight them eventually anyway, when they stop feeling and start thinking again.”

  I think he didn’t want you to kill them.

  “If he survives this, I’m going to kill him. He needs to leave decisions like these to professionals.” Subtlety was a pain. In her experience, it was always safer to overreact than to underestimate. She jerked her head, a signal to Galahad to join her.

  Following Miriya’s directions, Zara turned a corner and saw Miriya at the far end of the corridor. Zara raced across the smooth oak floors, Galahad by her side, and skidded to a stop in front of the open door. “Danyael!” Zara threw herself against the apparently open entrance, but an energy field repelled her. “Xin!”

  “She’s already working on it,” Miriya said.

  Zara ran her hands over the steel frame of the door. “There’s got to be an energy source for this somewhere. Find it. Cut it. And any backup generators too.”

  Galahad hesitated, his green eyes briefly unfocused, as he received detailed instructions from Miriya directly to his mind faster than words could convey. He nodded, turned, and ran down the corridor.

  Zara watched as Lucien’s punishing blows tore a moan from Danyael. Her stomach pitched with fear. “Damn it, fight back!”

  “What do you think he’s been doing? Physically, he doesn’t stand a chance against Lucien any more than he does against you or Galahad.”

  “He’s a goddamned alpha empath.”

  “And Lucien is immune to his empathic powers.”

  Zara pulled her dagger from its sheath and tossed it through the door to land inches from Danyael’s nose. “Catch that. Take him out. You can heal him later.”

  Danyael reached for the dagger, and Lucien lunged for it. They wrestled over the blade, bodies twisting, muscles clenching as each sought to dominate. Danyael’s fingers closed around the hilt, but Lucien slammed him onto his back. Teeth gritted, Danyael drove the dagger up, but Lucien seized Danyael’s hand before the blade cut flesh, and pounded Danyael’s hand repeatedly into the floor until Danyael’s grip flexed in pain.

  Lucien leaned forward, reaching for the weapon as Danyael lunged up and twisted sharply to escape from Lucien. Their bodies tangled. Danyael’s left leg was the first target in sight when Lucien’s hand closed around the dagger’s hilt.

  Danyael screamed, an animal’s cry of raw pain, when the blade plunged into his hip. He jerked as Lucien pulled out the dagger. Danyael convulsed with each repeated attack as the blade tore bloody gashes along the length of his left leg from hip to knee.

  Lucien screamed, arcing like a bow, his hands pressed against the sides of his head as the weapon tumbled from his fingers.

  Miriya sagged against the wall, her face pale. Got it. Lucien’s shields are down, but I still need to break the hold on his—

  Shots rang out. Zara dived to the floor.

  The shooters, at least two of them, controlled the corridor. She could not get to them without entering the line of fire.

  Miriya inhaled sharply. Her trained mind lashed out. Screams of excruciating pain tore through the air. The guns fell silent.

  Telepaths had their uses. Zara cautiously pushed to her feet and looked around. Her eyes widened. Oh, God, no. She dropped to her knees beside Miriya and pressed her hands against the blood rapidly staining Miriya’s turquoise halter top.

  Miriya looked up, her pale lips trembling. Icy fingers wrapped with frightened desperation around Zara’s. The telepath’s green eyes flared briefly with terror. “Is it bad?” Miriya choked out the question.

  “If you can still talk, no,” Zara lied. “Hang in there.” The quiet tone could not conceal the urgency in her voice. Damn it. Miriya needed Danyael.

  With the Glock in her hand, Zara spun around. She steeled her heart, took careful aim, and pulled off a single shot.

  Lucien collapsed over Danyael with a soft groan.

  “No,” Danyael gasped, his voice cracking with pain.

  The lights illuminating the corridor went out, plunging her into darkness, and disabling the security system. She raced through the unprotected entryway, pulled Lucien’s unconscious bulk off Danyael, and dragged Danyael to his feet. “Miriya needs you. Now.”

  The lights flickered and flared on. The backup generators had kicked in. Zara cursed under her breath. She was trapped with Danyael and Lucien.

  Danyael…not trapped, Miriya whispered. The biometric system will let him pass.

  Right. Zara pushed Danyael toward Miriya.

  The door on the far side of the room opened.

  Danyael stumbled against the doorframe, his momentum checked as he glanced sharply over his shoulder.

  Damn it. There was an entrance from another room? Why had she not noticed it before? Because I was tangled in a damned knot over Danyael. My distraction is going to get me killed.

  Men filed into the room. She counted heads as they arrayed themselves in a semicircle, ten men, armed with automatic weapons.

  Zara’s grip tightened on the Glock and loosened on the dagger. If she was lucky, she would take down two of them. What she was going to do with the other eight, she did not know.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  His weight balanced on his uninjured leg, Danyael pivoted to face the new threat. Adrenaline dulled his pain, enough to clear his mind. He had only one chance to save all their lives.

  “Looks like we’ve struck gold,” one of the me
n said with grim satisfaction. “Secure Sabre. Kill Winter and the woman.”

  Danyael slammed the door shut. If Miriya was well and her psychic shields suitably reinforced, she might have been able to withstand the full force of his unleashed empathic powers, but she was wounded; he did not dare risk it. The closed door would protect her. Lucien he did not worry about; his empathic powers had never affected his best friend.

  The only one at risk was Zara.

  He lunged forward, threw himself in front of Zara, and dragged her to the floor. “Hold me,” he whispered urgently. “Trust me.”

  Behind them, the men scrambled to obey their leader and ran forward to separate them.

  Deliberately, Danyael dropped his external psychic shields and his internal shields. Memory-fueled emotions surged, a tsunami of wretched misery no longer held at bay. Hell manifested on earth.

  Distantly, he heard sobs of helplessness, cries of hopelessness, and finally, the screams of self-hatred. Shots rang out, guns fired with deliberate intent. He scarcely heard them. All his energy, his strength was focused on the woman in his arms. He pinned Zara down in spite of her panicked struggle to break free. “Look at me,” he begged, grabbing her head between his hands and forcing her to meet his gaze. He cradled her in the eye of the empathic storm tearing around them, cleaving life from bodies. Through their physical contact, he channeled peace to counter the crippling hopelessness, channeled love to counter the destructive self-hatred.

  The former was difficult, the latter easy. Together, they were sufficient.

  The guns finally fell silent. He did not look back. He did not need to. His empathic senses confirmed that only two others, besides him, were left alive in the room. Swallowing painfully, he dragged his shields over his emotions. He held Zara until rationality returned into her violet gaze. An empathic probe confirmed that she was well. Only then did he dare let her go.

  He pulled himself off her and dragged himself to Lucien’s prone body. His best friend was unconscious from Miriya’s telepathic attack and bleeding from the bullet wound in his right shoulder, but otherwise all right.