Perfect Betrayal

by Jade Kerrion

  He glanced up as a man in his mid-fifties walked slowly down the bridge toward them. "Human. Unshielded," he said quietly for Erin's benefit. No threat.

  The man nodded politely. "Cold day," he said.

  Danyael nodded in acknowledgment.

  "An unusual day for visitors," the man continued. "Most people don't visit in winter."

  "You're a resident of these parts, then?" Erin asked.

  The man smiled, charmed by her accent. "Lived here all my life." He took a single white rose out of his jacket. "I'd give it to you, miss, but I've only one and it's for the boy." He tossed it over the bridge and watched the river carry it away.

  Danyael sensed sorrow in the man, a wistful regret. "You lost someone here?" he asked.

  "Well..." The man dragged out the words. "I found someone here. Lost him eventually, though." He smiled to shake off his melancholy. "It's a long story."

  "We've time," Erin said with a winsome smile.

  "I fished a little boy out of the river twenty-five years ago to the day. He must have been three years old. Maybe less. He was almost dead. I did my best to get the water out of his lungs, gave him CPR, wrapped him in my jacket---this same old one, it was new then, though---and then rushed him to the hospital."

  Danyael stared at the man in disbelief. He clamped down on his emotions.

  The man's shoulders moved in a shrug. The rose vanished beneath the water. "I visited him every day while he was in the hospital. He survived. He'd had a rough life before---several broken bones that had nothing to do with falling into the water---but he was a charmer. Dark eyes that followed me everywhere. A shy little smile, as if he hadn't practiced enough. I decided to adopt him, but the court wouldn't hear of it. I was a single man then. I hadn't yet met and married my Maia. So they sent him off into the foster system. I tried looking for him after Maia and I got married, but never found him. Maybe he died. I don't know. I didn't even have a name to work off, so it was pretty hard."

  "I'm sure it was," Erin said encouragingly. "Still, I'm sure he's glad to know you tried."

  "Glad" did not encompass the breadth and depth of what Danyael felt. He had been instructed to name his emotions before acting on them, but that time, words eluded him. Danyael reached out with his empathic powers to take the edge off the man's pained memories, but nothing happened. Stunned, he stared at the man. The man was immune to him, just like Lucien. It explained the man's compassion for a young alpha empath who brought out the worst in everyone else. Danyael closed his eyes and looked away. How many years of misery could he have avoided if he had been adopted instead of abandoned to the foster system?

  "I'm Erin Byrne." Erin extended her hand.

  "Jacob Johnson." The man shook her hand.

  "And this is Danyael Sabre." Erin held out a hand to Danyael.

  "Glad to meet you," Jacob said with a grin.

  Andrea's voice broke into the silence of his mind. The enforcer and her friends are here. Others too, many humans, psychically shielded. I also sense Alex Saunders and General Kieran Howard. John and I will take care of this. You don't have to leave your reunion.

  He had to. He could not let Andrea and John fight his battles.

  He heard Andrea's soft chuckle in his mind. Oh, don't worry. We're not fighting your battles. We're leaving you with the thankless task of protecting the oracle.

  Great. Thanks. He watched Andrea and John walk leisurely away.

  Erin was apparently indifferent to Andrea's scathing comments. "Do you come back here every year?" she asked, looking at Jacob.

  "Yes. Makes a man wonder, you know, what could have been."

  Yes, it did. Danyael glanced at Jacob Johnson's profile. It made him wonder.

  * * *

  Zara stepped out of their replacement SUV and looked around. Miriya's hook in Danyael's mind had remained intact, allowing them to successfully track the alpha empath to a large park in Franklin, West Virginia. A limousine idled in a corner of the parking lot but the council trained were nowhere in sight.

  Miriya joined Zara. "Alex says the Mutant Assault Group has arrived. They're on the other side of that ridge."

  "Working with them feels unnatural," Zara said.

  "Alex didn't think we could take on the council trained on our own."

  "I'm going to find Danyael," Galahad said. He was armed with a long-barrel handgun and a set of daggers, both concealed beneath the bulk of his leather jacket.

  Zara studied the bleak expression in his eyes and wondered what he was thinking. She did not have time to worry about Galahad; she had something else she needed to do.

  "Wait. So you're both leaving me? I have to meet the assault group on my own?" Miriya asked.

  "You were the one who decided to drag Alex back into this," Zara said. "And since Alex decided to cooperate with the assault group, you get to babysit them."

  "Zara, you're not going to make my job difficult, are you?"

  She grinned. "On the contrary, I'm going to make it easier."

  The one strength of the Mutant Assault Group was their ability to hurl lots of people at a problem. As an offshoot of the United States military, their missions varied, but frequently came down to hunting rogue mutants. Their task forces comprised humans and mutants under the leadership of an alpha mutant. Correspondingly, one of the many weaknesses of the assault group was its unshakeable belief in the superiority of numbers. They tended to stick together like herds of cattle and were easily tracked. Zara found them within ten minutes, moving through the trees on their way to rendezvous with Miriya.

  In the spring or summer, with the land covered in foliage, her task would have been infinitely easier. In the winter, with little cover afforded her, it was more challenging. Nevertheless, an outcropping of large rocks provided her with the perfect vantage point. Zara concealed herself behind the rocks and set up her sniper rifle. She had only one chance to get it right. There were a million reasons why waiting for a cleaner, safer opportunity was the right answer, and a single reason why she was not going to wait.

  She wanted to make Tim pay for ripping Danyael's memory.

  Her hand was steady on the rifle. Her focus narrowed to a precise spot in the middle of Tim's forehead. She regulated each breath, was aware of each fractional muscular shift as she aligned the target. She inhaled slowly, held her breath, and pulled on the trigger.

  Three thousand feet away, Tim Brown dropped silently to the ground, blood pouring down his face.

  Done. Now to run. Zara spun around and froze, staring into the blandly amused expressions on the faces of Andrea Hunter and John Pendleton. She had not heard them approach. Where had they come from?

  Nicely done, she heard Andrea's voice in her head.

  "Up there!" Voices of the human soldiers of the assault group carried up the ridge.

  John waved a hand. Small rocks and pebbles skittered, falling from a ridge on the other side of the valley.

  "No, over there! He's getting away!" The sound of racing footsteps receded in the opposite direction.

  "Thanks," Zara said quietly.

  John smiled. "Our pleasure. You're not as indifferent to Danyael as we'd previously believed."

  Yes, she was. Danyael had taken her feelings away. Killing Tim Brown was strictly business.

  Zara, what did you do? Miriya's voice screamed into her mind.

  She chuckled softly. Oops....

  After a moment of silence, Miriya said, You killed Tim.

  Zara did not reply as she made her way quietly down the far side of the ridge. Behind her, John and Andrea walked on cushions of air. For all intents and purposes, they were floating. She shot them an envious glance. Telekinetics were useful to keep around.

  "Do you even know which side you're on, Zara Itani?" Andrea asked.

  "I change my mind frequently," Zara said. "Keeps my enemies and friends guessing."

  Andrea smiled thinly. "You must be a riot to have around. Be careful who you cross, Zara. Someday it may prove to be more tha
n you can handle." She glanced toward the south. "Here is where our paths diverge."

  "Where are you going?" Zara asked.

  "Back to Danyael," Andrea said. "To save him from the soulless non-human you freed from Pioneer Laboratories."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Danyael leaned against the bridge over Mill Run River, content to listen in silence as Erin and Jacob chattered like old friends. The alpha empath studied Jacob, absorbing every flicker of expression in Jacob's grizzled face, enjoying the sparkle in his kindly eyes and youthful grin.

  "What do you imagine could have happened, Jacob?" Erin asked.

  The older man shrugged. "I could have given him a good home. He was little more than a baby, really. It would have been nice for us too, to have a kid. Maia and I never had any of our own. But if he's still alive, I hope he's doing well. Living a good life. Making a difference."

  "Making a difference?"

  "Yes. Doing some good, you know. I'm a police officer, the only one in Franklin for almost thirty years now. Figured it was my way of repaying the community for all those windows I broke when I was a rowdy lad." He winked at Erin. His grin was cheeky and made him appear decades younger. "Way I figure it, we all have a debt to pay, some bigger than most."

  "What about the debt that society owes us?" Erin asked.

  Jacob shrugged again. "Society doesn't owe us nothing except a chance to do good. Everything else we have to earn. And keep earning. It's like the date printed on a bottom of a can. The expiration date. All the stuff we do lasts only so long."

  "And the bad things?"

  "The bad things too. Nothing's forever." Jacob chuckled. "Take it from someone who's lived twice as long as you folks. Sooner or later, you always get another chance."

  Erin smiled. "Like the boy?"

  "Yeah. If I live long enough, maybe I'll get another chance to meet him or save another boy from the river. Who knows?"

  "If you could see him again, what would you say to him?" Erin asked.

  "Eh?" Jacob scratched his chin thoughtfully. "Never really thought about it like that. Figured we'd sit and chat. Talk about what he's been doing. What I've been doing. I'd ask to meet his family---the one that took him in. His friends. He must be close to thirty now. Maybe he's got a wife. Kids. I'd like to meet them too."

  Wife? Kids? If only, Danyael thought. He did have a friend, though. He recalled the pride and joy shining in Lucien's eyes as his friend shook his hand and congratulated him on his medical degree. He remembered the many people he had healed over his two-year career at the free clinic in Brooklyn, the many lives he had saved. He saw curly haired Jose Sanchez and the face of the woman whose children he had restored to life.

  In spite of the odds, he had chosen to be a blessing, not a curse.

  "Danyael."

  The familiar voice sent a fissure of alarm down his spine. He turned around slowly to face Galahad. "Erin, get Jacob out of here," he said quietly. He felt Jacob's startled alarm as Erin urged him off the bridge. Erin and Jacob did not go far. Danyael could sense them hovering off to the side, but he did not look in their direction. He did not dare take his attention off the gun held steadily in Galahad's hand.

  "You've reached the end of your road." Galahad's voice was cool, deliberately remote.

  Danyael realized with regret that his fledgling friendship with Galahad was lost. He could no longer reach Galahad, neither with logic nor emotions. The council's deal made certain of it. All they had left between them was the end game. "I'm not the key to your freedom."

  "But what if your freedom was the key to their survival?" Galahad shifted his aim. The barrel of the handgun pointed at Erin and Jacob.

  "No, don't hurt him." Danyael's reply was immediate, instinctive. He released his breath shakily. "I'll come in quietly. You don't have to hurt him."

  Andrea's voice cut in. "Shame on you, little clone. You'd threaten a harmless human with death to turn Danyael's compassion from a strength into a weakness."

  Galahad swung around and fired.

  The bullet froze in mid-air inches from Andrea's heart. John closed his fist, and the barrel of Galahad's handgun crumpled. As if on cue, the hovering bullet dropped to the ground. John swung his arm as if brushing off an annoying insect. His formidable telekinetic powers mirrored his action, lifting Galahad off the ground and flinging him through the air.

  Andrea smirked. "Let him go, John. No need to be too gentle."

  Galahad screamed, plunging into the icy river.

  "We have to leave," Andrea said. "The Mutant Assault Group and the Mutant Affairs Council are converging on us. Danyael, come with us. Wed your future to ours."

  Down in the water, the splashing continued. Damn it, Galahad can't swim! Danyael rushed to the railing. Below the bridge, Galahad struggled to keep his head above water.

  "Galahad will live or die by his own strength," Andrea said, answering Danyael's unvoiced plea. "We see little in him worth saving."

  Danyael's heart and mind churned with turmoil. Could he risk his freedom, his future, for Galahad? More importantly, could he live with himself if he walked away and left Galahad to drown?

  My powers. My life. Not a curse, a blessing.

  He clenched his teeth, inhaled deeply, and then relaxed. His agonized indecision transformed into weary acceptance. When he looked up, his dark eyes were finally at peace.

  Danyael climbed up on the rail and paused, restrained by Erin's insistent grip. "This can't be your choice, Danyael," she said. "Don't do this. Why are you risking your life to save him?"

  He saw tears spring into her green eyes. "This isn't about Galahad. It's about my path in life. If I let him die, I am not the man I have tried so hard to become."

  "Danyael, if you turn your back on us by choosing this path, we won't stand between you and the council," Andrea warned.

  "I know, but I can't be what you want me to be. I'm sorry." He dove off the bridge and sliced into the water like a knife.

  The cold pierced him, the impact stunning. Danyael broke the surface, gasping for air, and searched the water. He caught a glimpse of dark hair. Five strong strokes brought him alongside Galahad. "I've got you. Here, hold on to me." Danyael wrapped an arm around Galahad and held him up to breathe. He infused calm to take the edge off Galahad's terror. Galahad's panicked actions subsided, but the shivering from hypothermia did not.

  Danyael had to get Galahad out of the water.

  Treading water was difficult. His left leg was useless, the muscles too damaged to propel him through the water. Swimming with Galahad's additional weight would be impossible. "I need your help. I'll keep your head above the water and steer us in the right direction. You have to kick."

  Galahad nodded. His legs moved weakly.

  Grimly, Danyael set his chattering teeth and moved through the water with his heavy burden. The swift current carried them downstream, but by swimming at an angle to the current, they made slow progress. Too slow, Danyael realized. His strength faded, sapped by the cold, his movements sluggish. Several times he slipped under the surface too, before coming up choking and coughing.

  It would be ironic if they both died, he thought. The cruelty of that cosmic joke gave him the strength to keep going. Just one more stroke. One more kick. Get through one second. And then the next.

  The riverbank taunted him, so close. He reached for solid ground, but the current dragged him out before he caught on. Almost. "We're nearly there, Galahad. I'll get you out." The words were unintelligible---he shivered too hard---but he was an alpha empath. He did not need words to project calm confidence or inspire hope. Empathic powers surged, entwining their spirits.

  Beside him, Galahad kicked with renewed effort. The riverbank drifted closer. Danyael reached out and grabbed an overhanging root. Relief washed through him. He heard running feet and looked up, dazed, as strong hands grabbed Galahad, hauling him out of the cold water.

  Jacob then reached for him too. How many times can you save the same boy from t
he same river, Danyael wondered as he reached for Jacob's hand.

  A single shot rang out. Danyael watched in disbelief as a blossom of red spread over Jacob's sweatshirt.

  Jacob's sharp gasp of pain ended in breathless silence. He toppled over Danyael and into the water.

  No! Danyael pushed away from the riverbank and struck out with desperation-fueled strength to reach Jacob.

  Dimly he was aware of a flurry of activity along the riverbank. People ran alongside, shouting frantic instructions. If those instructions were intended for him, he heard none of them. He caught Jacob; the older man was alive, but fading fast. Danyael did not hesitate. His healing powers surged, churning through Jacob's body.

  He had never healed another while struggling to stay afloat, but there had to be a first time for everything. The effort drained him, sapping mental and physical energy as the injury---a bullet wound through the right lung---transferred. Through eyes glazed with cold and a body filled with fresh agony, Danyael looked toward the riverbank. So close, one more stroke, one more kick, just one more.

  He felt ground beneath his feet. Danyael murmured a rare prayer of thanks and stumbled through the water up the sloping riverbank. As he dragged the older man onto dry ground, Jacob stirred. Another sweep of Danyael's empathic powers through Jacob tugged the worst effects of hypothermia away. Only then did Danyael collapse, struggling to breathe through wracking shudders.

  Jacob sat up and patted his shirt, stained pink, in astonishment. He looked at Danyael. His eyes widened. "Your eyes..." he breathed. "I know your eyes."

  You saved me. Thank you. Danyael's lips shaped the words, but no sound emerged.

  Hands seized him. Rough hands dragged him to his knees, wrapped hard fingers around his hair, and yanked his head back. Cold steel locked around his throat. He heard Alex's voice shout a warning. "No, don't turn on that electric collar. He's soaking wet. It'll electrocute him."

  Pain, white and brutal, ripped him apart. His muscles jerked spasmodically before collapsing beneath his weight. Unbearable agony blasted through his mind and shattered his psychic shields.