Perfect Weapon

by Jade Kerrion

  "Sort of," Xin agreed. She sat in the chair Zara had vacated and studied Miriya. The alpha telepath was still much too thin, her green eyes hollowed above her sunken cheeks, but her eyes glimmered with a sparkle that had been absent while she had been in the treatment center at Stowe. Miriya was recovering, in spite of her apparent resignation to death. "You love Danyael, too, don't you?" Xin asked.

  Miriya blinked. Her lips moved in wordless protest.

  "The possibility of saving him, even though you're convinced you're going to die in the process, has actually gotten you going. You're eating well---" Xin cast a glance at the crumbs and chocolate wrappers on the empty plate resting on the side table. "and sleeping better at night." Indeed, the shadows beneath Miriya's eyes had faded.

  "I..." Miriya stammered. Her shoulders sagged, the tension washing out of them. "Not the same way Zara does, but---"

  "But?"

  "My mind is tapped into Danyael's, and I think our close connection over the past year has somehow become a two-way road."

  "What do you mean?" Xin asked.

  "My feelings resonate with his."

  Xin arched an eyebrow. "You're saying that while you hooked his mind, he hooked your heart?"

  Miriya grimaced. "You're making it sound more poetic than it really is, but yeah, something like that."

  "Can empaths even do that?"

  "No one knows. There are too few alpha empaths of Danyael's caliber; no one actually knows what they're capable of doing."

  "So what do you mean when you say your feelings resonate with his?" Xin asked.

  "He's feeling better; not quite at peace, but hopeful." Miriya smiled, the brightness in her green eyes softening. "I can feel it when he wakes, and the burst of panic gives way to relief that freedom wasn't just a dream. Danyael's recovering, and he's dragging me along, even without knowing it. He's such a bloody optimist anyway; it's hard not to get swept up in his faith that he'll somehow get through hell itself, one way or another, a minute at a time, if necessary."

  "And what is he feeling now?" Xin asked.

  Miriya met Xin's gaze, the dreamy smile draining from her face. "He's afraid...of what he won't find, and of what he will."

  CHAPTER SIX

  Danyael stepped out of the cab and turned around to give Reyes a hand. "Lucien's in town."

  "How can you tell?" Reyes sagged against Danyael, breathing hard.

  "The lights are on. All of them." The lights pouring out of the windows of the two main houses and various outbuildings made the complex glow like a gem against the pristine snow and lightening sky.

  Reyes looked at the building and frowned. "You said Lucien owned a cabin in Aspen."

  "Yes, I did."

  "That monstrosity is not a cabin. It's bigger than Elysium was."

  Danyael chuckled softly. He had grown up in the Winter household, and he scarcely noticed ostentatious displays of wealth anymore. Even so, Lucien's Aspen home tipped the scale on "ostentatious" relative to Lucien's other magnificent homes around the world. The 24,000-square-foot mansion presided over eighty acres of land and boasted awe-inspiring views of Aspen Mountain and the surrounding valleys. The interior, Danyael knew, was even more impressive than the exterior. He smiled. "Technically, it's a log home." He glanced toward the far side of the complex. What had Lucien done to the bedroom that had once been permanently set aside for Danyael's use? He was certain the room was gone, together with the friendship that was now lost to him.

  "The twins would never believe that a house like this could exist," Reyes murmured as Danyael helped him maneuver up the low steps to the front door. "Why did you insist they wait in town?"

  "Because it's safer. If something goes wrong, at least they won't be in the middle of it."

  Reyes chuckled. "You must not know the twins very well. If something goes wrong, it's probably because they started it."

  The maid who opened the door admitted them without question when Danyael asked to speak to Lucien. "Would you like to wait in his study?" she asked.

  Lucien's study, if Danyael recalled correctly, was a long way from the front door. He gestured toward the expansive living area adjacent to the entryway. A fire blazed in the stone fireplace, casting a rosy glow over white leather furniture set in sleek European lines. "We'll just wait here for him. Thank you."

  "Yes, of course." The maid walked away, her heels clicking sharply against the oak-paneled floors.

  Reyes lowered himself into a leather chair with a slow caution that betrayed his age. "Getting in was easier than I expected. She must know you."

  Danyael shook his head. "I've never met her before. She probably mistook me for Galahad."

  Reyes's eyebrows arched. "I guess mistaken identity can be a disadvantage or an advantage, depending on the situation. I see you've been favoring your leg more than usual, even with the crutch. You should sit while you can."

  "I can't." Danyael hobbled toward a window. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to dispel the tension locked in his back. How often had Lucien and he sat by a window, mugs of hot chocolate in their hands, enjoying the same stunning view after a full day of skiing? Far too often, though the last time seemed very long ago.

  "Can't sit or can't relax?" Reyes asked.

  "There's not much difference in practice," Danyael said with a wry half smile.

  "I've heard rumors about your friendship with Lucien Winter. Are they true?"

  "That would depend on what you've heard." Danyael turned back to face Reyes. "Most people get the names right and little else. I'm surprised you heard anything at all. Our friendship was not something Lucien typically talked about."

  "Why? He seems secure enough in who he is not to be ashamed of you."

  The corner of Danyael's lips tugged into another smile. "I wanted privacy. Lucien didn't necessarily agree, but he played along."

  "Because you mattered to him."

  Danyael shrugged but said nothing.

  "Did he really fire an orphanage director because of you?" Reyes asked.

  Danyael laughed softly. "Yes, he did. He was fifteen then. I was twelve and living in the orphanage. Lucien was visiting one day and saw the other children attacking me. He intervened, fired the director, and eventually replaced all the employees too."

  "And what happened to you?"

  "He took me home." Like a stray puppy.

  "The stories I hear say he's immune to your mutant powers."

  Danyael nodded. "To my empathic powers, yes. I can sense his emotions, but my emotions have no impact on him."

  "Why is that?"

  Danyael shrugged again. "No one really knows. Perhaps some kind of mutation in his genes."

  "Lucky for him."

  "Lucky for me," Danyael corrected. "If not for Lucien, I wouldn't have survived my childhood. He protected me until I was eventually diagnosed as an alpha empath. The Mutant Affairs Council stepped in to teach me how to shield my emotions and control my powers."

  "That must have been a turning point for you."

  "Yes." Danyael nodded. "The psychic shields are the key to a normal life for me. Lucien gave me a chance to be normal."

  "So why are you and Lucien no longer friends?" Reyes asked.

  "When Zara Itani freed Galahad from Pioneer Labs, she went to Lucien for help. When Lucien realized that Galahad and I looked identical, he interfered, more than he should have, to protect both Galahad and me. He was taken, and mental blocks were erected in his mind."

  "Taken? By whom?"

  "I don't know. We never found out."

  "What do the mental blocks do?"

  Danyael stared down at his ruined leg; Lucien had crippled him. Beneath the faded denim, the torn muscles were held together with little more than surgical tape and bandages. "The mental blocks changed how Lucien felt about me. We freed him, but the damage was done. He hates me now."

  Reyes frowned. "But mental blocks can be reversed."

  "It's too risky, and his parents won't permit it. They nev
er wanted me in Lucien's life anyway." Sheer force of will kept his tone even, but deep inside, he wanted to scream in agony. "So it's done. The friendship is over."

  "But that was a year ago. How do you know the mental blocks haven't been reversed since?"

  "He didn't come for me," Danyael said simply.

  "He could have, couldn't he?" Reyes asked, his voice quiet. "Not with guns blazing, but he would have had the financial and political clout to get you out."

  Danyael exhaled, a silent sigh. "When you told me that he was alive and healthy, that eliminated the only other possible reason why he hadn't saved me."

  Reyes nodded with understanding. "I'm sorry."

  Danyael braced against Reyes's sympathy. Kindness was a great deal harder to bear than indifference or even cruelty. Kindness implored him to lower his emotional defenses, but he had been burnt too badly, too often, to allow anyone to get close to him again.

  He heard a familiar cadence of footsteps and then Lucien's voice. "Galahad, when did you---"

  Danyael looked up slowly at the tall, dark haired man. "Luce."

  Lucien Winter's blue eyes widened and then narrowed. Myriad expressions chased across his sculptured features.

  Danyael's hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly as he struggled to process Lucien's emotions: shock and disbelief, and worse, hatred seared with disgust. None of those emotions were foreign to him, but to sense them from Lucien was unbearable.

  Lucien spun around to leave, but Danyael called out. "Luce, please."

  Lucien paused and turned to face Danyael. His polished bass took on an acidic bite. "What are you doing here?"

  "Several hours ago, the police attacked Elysium, a derivative sanctuary, looking for me. Reyes Maddox, the leader of the enclave, was hurt. I've healed him, but he needs a blood transfusion and a safe place to recover. Will you---"

  "Take him in? No."

  Danyael shook his head. "This isn't for me, Luce. He needs your help."

  Lucien raked his gaze over Danyael and sneered.

  Danyael gripped the windowpane to keep from flinching.

  "You look like hell," Lucien said.

  The matter-of-fact tone was so familiar that Danyael smiled. "This is an improvement from two weeks ago."

  Lucien turned on his heel. "Jefferson, escort these two men to the door."

  Jefferson Davis, the director of Lucien's security team, stepped out silently from behind a large column. He folded his arms across his chest. His expression was impassive.

  How could a life-transforming friendship end with a callous dismissal? "Luce---"

  "It's okay, Danyael," Reyes hauled himself to his feet. "He's been fair enough to give us a chance to leave. Let's go."

  Danyael inhaled, a shuddering sound. With brutal efficiency, he reinforced his psychic shields, a barricade against the heartache that swamped him and threatened to drown him. Keep moving. Don't let the pain catch up with you. He turned to give Reyes a helping hand. Together, they stepped out of Lucien's home and into the chill of the early morning.

  Danyael turned to take a final look at Lucien, wishing that his last image of Lucien could have been of Lucien's face instead of his back. He dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I'm sorry I brought you all this way for nothing." His voice trembled, pain inching past his psychic shields.

  "It was worth a shot, as they say," Reyes said. His hand gripped Danyael's, offering support rather than receiving it. "You'll be okay, Danyael."

  "I know," Danyael murmured. Eventually. He looked up sharply at the glow of multiple vehicle headlights coming up the mountain road toward Lucien's cabin. "They've found us. They're looking for me. You'll be all right. Stay here. They'll take you to a hospital."

  Reyes shook his head. "No. I'm coming with you. I'm not throwing myself at the mercies of a government that slaughters unarmed, innocent people."

  "Reyes, if they have orders to shoot on sight---"

  "I'll take my chances with you."

  Danyael glanced at the surrounding countryside. He knew the walking trails in the area, but with him on a crutch and Reyes wearied by blood loss, the trails would have been challenging even in the summer. In winter, covered by snow, the trails would be nearly impossible, but not when the alternative was ADX Florence. "All right. This way, down here." Danyael guided Reyes along a narrow path toward a cluster of barren trees. "We're not going to be able to outrun them, so we'll have to lay low until they pass."

  "But there's no cover here," Reyes said. He skidded on a patch of ice, but Danyael steadied him, catching him before he fell.

  Danyael looked around as the sound of voices carried through the night air toward them. We're running out of time. "We need to get out of sight. There used to be a tree house somewhere here. Lucien and I built it together years ago." He looked up, searching for the tree house, and almost missed the untidy heap of wood on the ground. His memory had not failed him, but the passing of time had brought down the tree house. The roof had collapsed in several places, but the walls seemed sturdy enough. Danyael looked at Reyes. The old man seemed even paler than before, and he shuddered beneath his winter jacket. Reyes could not go farther. Danyael gritted his teeth and made up his mind. They were running out of options; they had to chance it.

  The wood creaked as he and Reyes entered the tree house. Danyael ducked beneath a low-hanging buttress and then guided Reyes to a section where the roof still held. "Rest here. We won't be any warmer, but at least we're out of the wet snow."

  Reyes slowly sank down and sat on the wooden planks. He looked up at Danyael, his brown eyes weary. "What is this plan of yours?"

  "If they're mutants, and they probably are, they'll be searching with their minds, not their eyes. Your psychic shields are strong, as are mine. We can deter any casual telepathic sweep, and if they seem inclined to push harder, I can deter them."

  "How?"

  "Empathy."

  Reyes shook his head. "But if they're mutants---telepaths---they'll know if you mess with them."

  "Emotions can be subtle, and because they're visceral, they're frequently dismissed as gut feelings instead of manipulation by an alpha empath." Danyael smiled tightly. "I know it's a gamble, but it's all we've got at this point. I won't let myself be taken alive. I'm not going back to ADX."

  Reyes's eyes widened with alarm. "But if you're killed---"

  Guilt gnawed at him like acid in his stomach. In that moment, the answer to the infernal question "blessing or curse" seemed blatantly clear. I guess I'll finally earn that class-five criminal status. Danyael steeled himself, but his voice trembled in spite of his efforts. "Keep your psychic shields up, and take cover behind physical barriers. They'll give you some protection when my internal shields collapse. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

  "Nonsense." Reyes smiled weakly. "I haven't had this much excitement in a long time. I almost feel young again."

  The voices drew closer. Danyael cast Reyes a cautionary glance and hunkered beside the older man. The muscles in his left leg cramped in protest, but his psychic shields did not falter. His empathic powers eased out, soft and subtle as a light breeze.

  "There's no trace of him anywhere," a male voice said. "This is starting to feel like a wild goose chase."

  "The fact that you can't sense him doesn't mean he's not there," a second voice, female and stern, said. "All it means is that his psychic shields are stronger than your psychic senses. He was back at Elysium. Someone saw him leave before the complex blew up, so keep your eyes open. I don't want to go back to Saunders and tell him we failed to find him when someone else, a mere human, at that, saw him."

  "Why is Alex taking the word of a human over that of an enforcer?" the first voice asked.

  Danyael's trembling hands curled into fists. The Mutant Affairs Council had attacked Elysium, hunting him.

  "Some humans are more reliable than others. Apparently Alex trusts this one. Did you check over there?"

  "There's nothing there.
I scanned it. It's just a pile of wood."

  "Go look."

  Damn it. Danyael gritted his teeth and pushed soundlessly to his feet. Pain screamed down the length of his left leg. Only alpha mutants were recruited to the ranks of the enforcers, but if Danyael could get in a first strike, he would have a chance of winning against two enforcers. And then what? Where could he and Reyes go? The walking trails were lined by four-foot high snowdrifts and were very nearly impassable for a cripple.

  Focus. He had to deal with one problem at a time, or the volume and scale of his problems would overwhelm him. Danyael held his breath when footsteps crunched through snow toward the old tree house. If the enforcer got any closer, he would have to---

  "Hey, there are tracks here," the man called out, his voice excited.

  A branch snapped, and then another, the sound farther away.

  "He's getting away," the woman said sharply. "Over there."

  Footsteps raced away from the tree house.

  "What just happened?" Reyes asked quietly after all sound faded into silence.

  "I don't know," Danyael whispered. Silently he counted down five minutes. "Stay here, I'll check it out."

  Reyes shook his head. "I'll come with you."

  Together they stepped out of the tree house. The woods around them were silent once again. The moon hung low in the sky; dawn was likely no more than an hour away. Danyael looked around, trying to orient himself. "If we can make it back to the main road, we could---"

  Several figures emerged silently out of the darkness. Danyael stepped in front of Reyes to protect the older man, but his heart sank. He could easily stop one or two opponents, but to stop many, he would have to drop his internal and external psychic shields. His unshielded emotions, sourced from memories of his hellish childhood and fueled by the power of alpha empath, would drive anyone to suicide. It would mean the death of the enforcers, and without any physical cover for Reyes, it would mean Reyes's death too.