Double Helix Collection: A Genetic Revolution Thriller

by Jade Kerrion

  “Galahad looks just like me, and you slept with him.”

  “You better not have called me a slut. How do you explain the lab results then? Her genetic code comes from two people—you and me.”

  Danyael shook his head. “I can’t explain the lab results. I just know what happened.”

  “And I know what happened. I didn’t imagine the best damned sex of my life.”

  Danyael expelled his breath in a sigh. “Zara…”

  She reached into the back pocket of her denim jeans and pulled out a wallet-sized photograph. “They let me keep this when they took my weapons and the rest of my personal belongings.” She pressed it against his chest, against his heart. “Take it; it’s yours now.”

  He did not look at the photograph until he was out of her cell, until the steel door once again separated him from Zara’s tumultuous emotions. His hands trembled as he turned the picture over. An infant stared solemnly at him. She was a cherub; her exquisitely featured face, accentuated by violet eyes and pouty lips, was framed by a riot of pale blond curls. Her smile was slight, but knowing. She was as beautiful as her father, as stunning as her mother.

  Laura Itani.

  ~*~

  Danyael limped into Galahad’s cell even before the steel doors had fully opened. “Why did you drag her into this?” he asked without preamble.

  “Zara?”

  Danyael nodded, tossing pillows and blanket down on the bed before hobbling over to Galahad to disable and remove the electric collar from around his neck. “How could you put her in danger?”

  Galahad chuckled, low and amused. “How could I put her in danger? Are we talking about the Zara who grew up playing with daggers and guns, who broke into Pioneer Labs and freed me on a whim? Zara doesn’t listen to me any more than she listens to you. She does listen to Xin, though, and Xin thought it was a good idea.”

  “Xin?”

  “Yes, Xin the omniscient.” Galahad looked hard at Danyael. “How are you doing?”

  “I’ll be all right.”

  Galahad laughed again. “That’s still your standard reply. You haven’t changed.”

  The flippant, even mocking, tone of Galahad’s response irked him. “What exactly were you expecting from me?”

  “Anything but compassion.”

  Danyael looked up sharply, wondering if Galahad was deliberately yanking on his chain. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m not laughing. How could a year at ADX not change you?”

  “I see a very different man when I look in the mirror.”

  “It would depend, I suppose, on what you’re looking for. Tell me, what do you think of Reyes?”

  Tension rippled across Danyael’s shoulders and leeched down his spine. “Why do you ask?”

  “From what I’ve seen so far, he seems…common.”

  Danyael’s eyes narrowed. “Reyes is a good man.”

  “There are many good people in the world, Danyael, but why did the professor choose him? What is so special, so extraordinary about him that the professor wanted his genes in me? What is the perfection that Rakehell saw in Reyes Maddox?”

  “Isn’t that a question for the professor?”

  “Perhaps.” Galahad smiled thinly. “But we’re no longer on talking terms.”

  “Reyes has…a way about him. He connects with people as individuals, on a level that matters to each of them. He seems to intuitively understand how people tick, what’s in their heart and minds.”

  “Do you think that’s what the professor saw in him?”

  Danyael shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I see in him.” He leaned against the wall and allowed his head to fall back, baring his throat. For a moment, it occurred to him that he appeared vulnerable, but he was too tired to care. Danyael sighed again, more motion than sound.

  “What is the assault group going to do to us?” Galahad asked, interrupting Danyael’s bleak thoughts.

  “I’ve asked them to release you and Zara. They will eventually, once I convince them that you’re not a threat.”

  “What about you?”

  “I belong here now. They saved me from ADX.”

  Galahad nodded, the gesture slow and thoughtful. “What was it like at ADX?”

  Danyael’s hands clenched involuntarily, and a muscle twitched in his smooth cheek. “I don’t remember much.”

  “I don’t understand how easily you accept not knowing your past. I search for my heritage, trying to understand what makes me unique and special, while you hide, cowering from your memories.”

  Danyael pushed away from the wall. “There’s a difference between cowering from the past and salvaging the little you can from its ruins and moving on. My past does no one, least of all me, any good.”

  Galahad’s emotions shifted subtly beneath psychic shields. Danyael struggled to tease apart the minute differences between hatred and disgust. For me? But why? And why did an undercurrent of bitterness snake through Galahad’s psyche like a twisted dark thread through a tapestry of dazzling colors?

  Galahad folded his arms across his chest. “Zara would call that ‘cowardice,’ and she holds it in contempt.”

  Deliberately Danyael changed the topic. “Have you seen her daughter?”

  Galahad’s emotions flashed and transformed. That time, Danyael sensed a quiet ache—need and longing that hovered on the edge of love. Galahad’s tone, however, was nonchalant. “Laura? I saw her once, shortly after she was born. I think she’s nine months old now.”

  “What is she like?”

  “Charming, or so I’ve heard, without Zara’s sharp edge, though I’m certain she’ll emulate her mother over time. At least the media spotlight died down; she may have a chance of growing up normal now.”

  “Media spotlight?”

  “When she was born, everyone suspected, naturally, that I was her father. The scientific community was in an uproar over the rise of a new race of genetically superior human beings. I even heard that Purest Humanity would have placed a bounty on her life, if Jason Rakehell, their president, had not vetoed it.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The lab results came back. As it turns out, Laura is the daughter of an alpha empath instead. Considering your innate capabilities, I would have thought that reason enough for concern, but the media scrutiny vanished. I guess they decided the daughter of a mutant wasn’t worth the hassle.”

  Laura Itani was safer as his daughter; he should have expected it. The world was not necessarily tolerant of mutants, but it was far less tolerant of Galahad. Welcome to fatherhood. Bitter irony laced his thoughts. He turned away and limped to the door, each step slow and stiff.

  “They love you. Why?”

  Danyael threw a startled glance over his shoulder. “What?”

  “Zara and Miriya.” Galahad paced the length of his cell, tension coiling through his taut frame. “Even Reyes. What did you do to them?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Zara was pregnant when she left me, though she never told me. Nothing I did could make her love me; she withdrew physically and emotionally. One day she walked away. She never looked back. She left me for a man who was in prison for life.” Bitterness and irony rattled through Galahad’s short, humorless laugh.

  The perfect human being continued, his voice quiet. “After Zara left, I turned to Miriya, and the same thing happened. Helpless, I watched her fade. She used drugs to cope with your pain, but she never let you go. She chose to leave me instead. I woke up one morning, and she was gone. At that time, I didn’t know, but she went to your home. I surrounded her with every possible comfort, with every luxury I could afford, but she chose instead a filthy studio apartment without heat or running water.”

  Danyael’s brow furrowed. “What—”

  “You gave them nothing, but they chose you. Why?”

  Danyael’s head reeled. He took an unsteady step back. “I…don’t know.”

  Galahad ground his teeth. �
�You’re like a drug. You infuse them with the wonder of you, and then withdraw, leaving them addicted, craving you.”

  “My psychic shields repel people.”

  “Then why did they choose you over me? People tell me I’m perfect, but they leave me for you. Why?”

  Danyael could not wrap his mind around Galahad’s question, and he could not reconcile the confusing swirl of emotions he had sensed in Zara with Galahad’s accusations. He had no answers, none that would make sense to Galahad or to himself. Galahad was mistaken; he had to be. Danyael shook his head sharply, as much in denial as disbelief, and then turned and limped out of Galahad’s cell.

  Amanda Chandler was waiting outside the cell. “The general wants to see you. He’s in his office.”

  Danyael nodded. Amanda accompanied him to the general’s office on the third floor of the main building. His progress was slow. Shafts of pain shot along the length of his leg, muscles cramping with each step.

  Amanda broke the silence. “Zara’s very beautiful.” Her cool tone provided sufficient warning of what was to come. She must have witnessed his encounters with Zara and Galahad through the video feed.

  Danyael had no desire to be caught in the middle of a female catfight. “So are you. What’s your point?”

  “Congratulations on your daughter.”

  “Thank you.”

  She allowed the silence to briefly linger between them. “You’re not going to talk about it, are you?”

  “No, and that shouldn’t surprise you.”

  She hesitated. “Danyael, we’re lovers.”

  “Yes, and whatever happened between Zara and me belongs to the past, her daughter notwithstanding. If you’re worried about me running back into Zara’s arms, don’t be. Her arms aren’t open. They never were.”

  No, Zara’s arms had never been open, but it did not mean that the assassin had lost the power to unsettle him. Seeing Zara again awoke feelings and stirred desire that he was not emotionally prepared to handle, and Galahad’s inexplicable accusations had triggered a rare flicker of hope. Could Danyael actually have a future with the woman he had never stopped loving?

  No. Not now, not anymore. I have a different life ahead of me. Danyael’s psychic shields clamped down so tightly he had to fight to breathe.

  Amanda refused to abandon the topic. “She’s the reason I haven’t been able to get through to you, isn’t she? You sleep with me, but you never tell me what you’re really thinking or feeling. You don’t let me into your head.”

  “I don’t let anyone into my head.” That statement was a bald-faced lie; Miriya had taken up permanent residence in his head.

  “I deserve better,” she said, her voice unsteady.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “So why am I not getting it?”

  “There isn’t enough left in me to give it.”

  Amanda caught his arm and swung him around. “That’s a lie. You love her; I know it.” She did not let go when he tried to shake her off. “Why? What’s so special about her? Why her?”

  His temper snapped. “Why Zara? Because she started out entrenched in hate, but found a way to love me anyway, in spite of what she wanted and in spite of everything she believes I did to her.”

  “Damn it, Danyael. She doesn’t love you. I do.”

  “Do you?”

  “Don’t you know? Can’t you feel it?”

  He looked away.

  She laughed, the sound soft and bitter. “You don’t know what love feels like, do you? What good are alpha-level empathic capabilities if you can’t sense something as fundamental as love?”

  He was an alpha empath. He understood emotions far better than anyone else. He could articulate the differences between panic and fear. He knew, intimately, hate and despair. But love? That emotion was elusive; it defied definition. He could no more describe it than he could seize the wind. Did love, by its very nature, transcend description, or did he have no inkling of its nature, because he had experienced so little of it all his life?

  “Danyael,” Amanda said, a hint of a plea in her lowered voice. “I’m here for you. I’ve been here for you for months. When will what you have be better than what you want?”

  He reached out and stroked her cheek. “It is.”

  It was a lie, and they both knew it.

  Amanda sighed and stepped back, releasing his arm. She accompanied him to the general’s office; physically, a few feet separated them, but emotionally, they had never been further apart.

  Reyes was with the general and rose from his chair the moment he saw Danyael standing at the door. “You look like hell.” He moved quickly to Danyael’s side and helped him to a chair. “You need to get off that leg.”

  “Thanks,” Danyael murmured. He tasted blood in his mouth where he had bitten through the inside of his cheek. He lowered himself into the chair and slowly stretched his left leg out in front of him. His breath caught as he stifled a groan of pain.

  Amanda hovered briefly before settling down in a chair directly across from Danyael.

  The general stepped out from behind his desk, his brow furrowed with concern. “Danyael, how are you doing?”

  “Tired,” Danyael said quietly. “It’s late.”

  “I’ll get you something for the pain.”

  Danyael shook his head. “No, no painkillers. I need to know what my body’s telling me.”

  “And what is it telling you now?”

  “That I need to rest.” Ten more minutes.

  “It’s been a long day for you,” the general agreed. “I’m glad your surgery is scheduled for the fifth. You can’t keep going around on your leg like that. It’s too much of a strain on your body.”

  Reyes grinned. “Twenty-four more hours, Danyael, then you’ll be as good as new.”

  “Good as new” was a stretch, but any improvement was welcome. Danyael smiled wanly and looked up at the general. “What did you want from me?”

  The general rolled his neck. He looked tired, too. “To talk, but I think we should put it off till tomorrow. Or later today, rather, seeing how it’s already after midnight.”

  “It’ll be busy,” Reyes said. “I know most of the teams are off for the Fourth of July, but the folks who are at the base are planning an all-day party, including a pork roast for dinner.”

  The general nodded. “I know. I have lunch plans, but I’ll be here for dinner and fireworks later.” He sat across from Danyael, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his thighs. “How do you feel now that you’ve had a chance to speak to Zara and Galahad again?”

  “If you’re asking whether I’m irrationally loyal to my former friends, the answer is no.”

  Amanda’s emotions flashed. Relief. Disbelief.

  The general chuckled. “Your bluntness always seems so incongruous with the non-confrontational stance you project the rest of the time.”

  “I’m opposed to using my empathic powers to kill. It’s not the same thing as being non-confrontational. Nor does it mean I won’t defend myself when necessary.”

  “That is true,” the general conceded. “Still, I know it can’t be easy seeing them again.”

  Danyael released his breath in a soft sigh. “Once, I’d hoped that they would come for me, but they never did, and I’ve moved on. That part of my life is over.”

  Reyes’s emotions flared with guilt. The scent of it was pungent, wafting past his formidable psychic shields.

  Danyael looked up sharply. His dark eyes narrowed. “Reyes?”

  The old man stared down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “I…ended that part of your life, Danyael. Your friends came to Elysium looking for you. They came to protect you, to take you home. I couldn’t let them succeed. I needed you to believe that they were the enemy, that the council was the enemy, so I made Dum shoot me.”

  “But Dum was forced to shoot his own father. How could you do that to him?” Danyael’s mind caught a glimpse of the truth and recoiled from it. “What else? What else did you do? Th
e explosion in the tunnels?”

  “No!” Reyes reached for Danyael’s hand, but Danyael pulled away. “It was a safeguard, to cover our escape in case of an attack. It went off; it wasn’t supposed to. I never intended for people to evacuate, but after I was shot, they panicked and fled.”

  “What other trap did I walk into? The training accident?”

  The general shook his head. “No, but we’d always known the risks—”

  “It was our job,” Amanda said quietly.

  Danyael looked at her squarely. “Was I your job too?”

  Her face paled. Shock gave way to fury. She gripped the armrests, her knuckles white. “Do you really think so little of me?”

  The general held up his hand. “I saw an opening and took it. When Amanda was injured, I told Carson to call you. You needed emotional ties to the assault group—”

  “Why?” Danyael asked, voice trembling.

  The general folded his arms across his chest. His back was straight, his head raised. His voice was as calm and cool as always. “It was necessary, Danyael. Would anything other than a tragedy, a massive loss of lives, have compelled you to act?”

  Danyael sank into the chair and buried his face in his hands. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”

  “Would you, a doctor by training, a healer by calling, ever have led a military unit of soldiers genetically engineered to kill? Even after the training accident, you held out for two months, in spite of the emotional isolation. You caved only when the people you cared for—Amanda and Reyes—were placed directly in harm’s way.”

  The older man pressed his lips together, tears swarming into his eyes. “Danyael, I’m sorry.”

  “No sorrier than I am,” Danyael murmured. If he had been stronger, the general would never have attempted to turn his compassion from a strength to a weakness. It’s not the first time, Danyael thought bitterly. Until I become stronger, until I learn to stop needing…wanting more, I’m a liability to everyone around me. Grasping tightly to the armrest, he pushed to his feet and reached for the crutch leaning against the wall.

  “Where are you going, Danyael?” the general asked.