He turned and vanished around the partition.
“Motherfuckinggoddamnpieceofshit!”
The cries and blasts of the fight drowned out my tantrum. The two hostages looked up at me with wide, swollen eyes. The one with Jon’s gun adjusted his grip. Now what was I supposed to do?
I rubbed both hands over my face. Fuck! Finally, I took a deep breath and listened. Theo and Shane were still on their feet, fighting the one remaining guard. Relief flooded me, but only for a moment. Then I focused again. All the other guards were dead. Jon engaged Markus at the far end of the barn. And damn it all, Thirteen had just joined Jon in his fight.
Fucking idiots! What part of just-grab-the-hostages-and-run-like-hell didn’t they understand?
Markus fought with his telekinesis and his strength. But he wasn’t at full power. I couldn’t make out why. Was he wounded? That didn’t make sense. His maniacal laugh cut through the room, taunting his two opponents. If he were injured, he would simply kill the humans responsible then skulk away to nurse his wounds.
“Fine!” I yelled at the two men at my feet. They both jumped again.
God, just let Thirteen survive.
I turned the corner of the partition and froze.
Along the far wall, Theo and Shane had used up their ammo. They fought a massive, drug-controlled guard with knives. All three men were bloody and worn. The guard’s head was shaved bald; his muscles bulged. I didn’t recognize him, but he fought well, obviously experienced.
Shane crouched to pounce at the man’s back. He leaped into the air, his knife ready to kill. But midflight he turned, faced the other direction, and slashed at empty air, fighting another opponent who wasn’t really there—an illusion. Theo took on the guard alone.
Near the barn’s garage door, Jon gripped a two-by-four with both hands. Blood poured from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. But his fight remained fierce. Unfortunately, he too had been distracted by something that wasn’t really there. And Thirteen was moving in to help him.
A demented bark of laughter rang out. Markus stood on top of a tarp-covered heap, his eyes wild. My heart stopped.
Markus, my handsome and fearful brother, was now a hideous skeleton of his former self. His skin was tight over bones and lean muscles. A deep purple scar cut diagonally across his face. The puckered flesh left a cleft in his lips and sliced one eye in half, the white, milky eyeball on full display. His thick waves of dark hair were cut short, buzzed above the ear to show grated flesh. The rough flesh spread down the side of his neck and under his shirt collar.
My God, what happened to him?
Shane screamed and fell on his back, still holding off his imaginary assailant.
OK, enough of this.
I stepped into the openness of the barn. Instantly Markus’s illusions vanished. Jon and Shane both stumbled. Theo spun on the guard’s back, slicing the giant’s throat with a swing of his blade. The guard’s bald head fell back, gleaming brightly as a flash of lightning illuminated the room.
Markus frowned, his scars pulling taut.
“Markus!” I called out.
He spotted me from across the room. Astonishment, confusion, disbelief—Markus’s mind was total chaos. Good. Let him stay confused until I got the others to safety.
“You’re dead,” he said, matter-of-factly. “We checked. Several times, for days, we checked.”
“Yeah, guess it takes a little longer to heal a beheading.” I moved forward cautiously.
Slowly, his thoughts became more defined. Angrier. I could feel his powers gaining strength. Markus narrowed his eyes on me, and the intensity stopped me in my tracks. A tinkling sounded to my left. A rumble to my right. Suddenly, every piece of farm equipment and the tools scattered around the barn launched at me at breakneck speed. Someone shouted my name.
The tools and instruments halted midair. With a clamor, they fell to the ground several feet away from me. I cocked an eyebrow.
“Seriously?” I asked. Had his scars left him stupid as well as ugly? “What happened to you, Markus?”
“What happened to me?” he asked; his power chilled the room. Thunder crashed outside. “What happened to me?”
“Yes, Markus,” I said dully, “what happened to you?”
“What do you think happened to me?” he shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth. “The Kelch power must be harnessed. They needed to strengthen their energies, practice their skills.” His good eye dilated to blackness. “I told them it was me! I told them I was the one who killed you, but they didn’t believe me. They believed Malcolm.”
His anger peaked at the mention of our other brother.
“He was the one they accepted. He was the one they let stay in the main house. I was left with nothing. Nothing! Cast aside to be nothing more than their plaything.”
His body shook. He opened and closed his mouth. Sounds escaped but no words formed.
“You took my place,” I said finally. “For their frustrations and their experiments—but you can’t heal yourself, can you, Markus? You couldn’t take it the way I could.”
“You fucking bitch!” he screamed. Boards, nails, dropped weapons all flew at me again. Again they fell short by several feet. “Why couldn’t you just stay dead like the other one?”
I paused. What? “What the hell are you talking about? What other one?”
“The other one! The one they killed when they should have killed you.”
Markus vibrated with rage. His thoughts slowly became clear.
…
High ceilings and dark wood furniture decorated the master suite. In the center of the room, writhing on a beautiful canopied bed, Mother screamed.
A young Markus cringed and huddled closer to Malcolm’s back. The doctor hunched over the bed as the guards held Mother down. Malcolm looked down at Markus in disgust. Then he turned to face Father, standing beside the bed, dressed in his finest business suit. Guards flanked him at both sides.
After a moment, the doctor rose, a bloodied bundle in his arms. Father cradled the small baby in his hands. His face lit up with a joy the boys had never seen before. Malcolm’s steady stance faltered. Markus cringed again.
With dark curls and vibrant eyes, the child radiated with light. But the pride on Father’s face shifted. He frowned in confusion. Then in anger. Then fear.
Both boys turned to the bed as Father placed the radiant child back into Mother’s arms. With thoughtful strides, he crossed the room. At the door, he paused. Sighed.
“Kill them both,” he ordered quietly. Then he strolled from the room, shutting the door behind him.
The boys froze.
“No!” Mother cried out. One of the guards snatched the baby from her arms. She lunged after him but the wounds of childbirth restrained her. A second guard walked mindlessly to the lace-covered bassinet beside her bed. He lifted from it another baby, her dark curls and bright eyes identical to her sister’s. But there was no radiant glow like her twin.
“Please!” begged Mother from the tangles of her bloody sheets. “Only the second is a threat! That’s what he said. The other has no power, no power at all. The second took everything that should have been split between them. Please, let me keep the first. She’s just a baby!”
The guards ignored her.
The boys relaxed with relief as the twins were removed. Mother cried out in anguish.
…
Twins.
I had been a twin. Had I really retained all the supernatural power of my sister in the womb? Was that why I was so powerful?
Even at the moment of my birth, Father had ordered my death. And now I knew why. I was more powerful than I ever imagined. So powerful that energy had literally shone out of me. No wonder they’d tried so hard to kill me. They couldn’t take the risk that one day I’d be strong enough to destroy them.
That also explained the beatings and the experiments. I always thought the pain I’d been forced to endure was because Father had tried so hard to kill me and failed
. But maybe it was more than that. If they knew I couldn’t be killed, Father needed a way to stifle my powers. And he’d found it, with pain and humiliation and constant, unending fear. Anytime I’d lost control of my powers or used them to resist or fight back, the punishments had been so much worse, the pain truly unbearable.
All the new things I’d been doing lately—was something inside me changing, or just waking up? Was there even more inside me that I hadn’t discovered yet?
I thought of Theo and immediately knew the answer. Hell, yes, there was more inside me. The question was, how much more?
Markus’s mind struggled as memories pushed at him. He fought to stay in the here and now.
“You haven’t contacted Father,” I said slowly. “We’ve infiltrated the estate and killed family guards. Why aren’t the rest of the guards charging in? Where is Malcolm?”
“I am the more powerful one!” he shrieked. The barn lights shattered around us. I shielded the others from his outburst with my powers. “I will be the one to eliminate our enemies. I will destroy the Network, and no one will ever hinder our family’s conquests again!” Markus’s fists raised high above his head as if in victory.
Wow. His delusions really knew no bounds.
“You honestly believe that by turning over their leader, you can defeat the Network? Or that Father will even care?”
“Not their leader,” Markus replied. “The entire Network! The scarred traitor told me about the directory, the psychic l’annuaire that held the secrets of all the Network members. I would lay them to waste with the powers I’ve acquired. Powers that you can only dream about. And when I hand their leader to our father, I’ll reap the rewards!”
Riiiiight.
“It will prove nothing,” I said, but something in his words nagged at me. Acquired powers? We couldn’t acquire new powers. Could we?
His smile faded. For a moment, he was appeared confused. But then an evil grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You didn’t die,” he said, almost surprised. “You lived. And now you’ve returned.”
The hairs on the back of my neck trembled. Terror shivered up my spine. Deliberately, I turned squarely to face him, blocking Thirteen and Jon as they inched back toward the others.
“I have not returned, Markus.”
“Oh, but you have, sister. You’re here, right in front of me.”
My shoulders leaned forward, my body tensed. “I have not returned, Markus,” I repeated. “I will never return.”
He pondered this for a moment. “You think these people,” he hissed the word in disgust, “will help you escape?”
I didn’t respond. Markus doubled over in laughter, wiped away a stray tear. Utter joy and decision brightened his face.
“You are my proof of superiority,” he said. “I’ll hand over our enemies—trespassing vigilantes who murdered our employees—and will be rewarded for my ingenuity. Then, when I present them with you, the powerful Magnolia, they’ll know that Malcolm failed in his attempts to end you.” He stared off into space. “They will revere me as the strongest of our line.”
I cleared my throat. His gaze snapped back to mine. Power gathered at my fingertips, but I forced nonchalance.
“While I’m all for self-deception as a way of life, there are a couple of problems with your invented reality. First, I will not go back. You would have to kill me for that to happen, and we all know that simply isn’t in the cards. Second, you are not handing anyone over to Father or Uncle Max. I’m taking these men with me. And third, there is nothing, no single thing in existence, that would make our father look at you as anything other than the scared, weaker son.” I shrugged. “Such is your life.”
Markus’s eyes went wide. His energy swept over me, tickling the hairs on my skin. It wasn’t painful—he wasn’t strong enough for that—but it held anticipation for the moment just ahead. I took a deep breath. Stepped forward.
He raised his hand high. His fingers flexed in the air, curling as if around my throat, choking me.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please,” I said. Markus smiled.
“Theo!” Jon’s scream stopped my heart. “Oh God!”
I spun around. Theo fell against the partition wall. His hands clawed at his throat. He gasped for air. Markus growled triumphantly. “Why, Magnolia, you do have a weakness.”
Theo writhed again. Our connection came to life with a roar. The power surged, elevating me beyond my previous self. Beyond anything I had experienced so far. At once the room darkened. But there was no red or crimson like when I had tortured Banks.
There was only gold.
My hands curved and transformed instantly; my heartbeat throbbed in time with the room around me. Markus attacked. He leaped from his place on top of the tarped mound, tackling me to the ground. Our combined weight and force sent us sliding across the dirty floor. We flew past Theo’s contorting body and crashed into the far partition.
My clawed hands clung to Markus. He held me to the ground. I dug my claws deeper into his shoulders, ready to rip off his arms. He cried out. In a move so fast I missed it, he reached between our bodies. With a loud tear, he ripped open my shirt.
His focus stuttered at my exposed bra, but he shook it off quickly. He pressed his open palm to my chest, right above my heart. His hand blazed with heat, instantly burning through my flesh. The energy radiated deep into my muscles, melting the tissue and heading for my heart. I screamed.
Images of the autopsied Network members flashed into my mind. The traces of polonium 210, the radioactive residue left on their corpses. This was the acquired power that Markus spoke of in his rant—the reason he believed himself so powerful now. A nuclear capability. But how?
I shoved deep into his mind, searching his memories. There it was—Father’s latest experiment. Markus had been locked inside a secured room while Father had emitted concentrated polonium into the room’s airspace. The polonium hadn’t caused any pain or disfigurement like Father had hoped, so the experiment had been abandoned and Father had moved on. It was weeks later that Markus realized the chemicals had mutated inside him, reacting with his telekinesis to create a new power. He’d kept his new radioactive ability secret from the rest of the family.
I doubted even a nuclear explosion could permanently kill me. But I really didn’t want to test the theory.
I pulled both hands from Markus’s back. Then, angling a sharp talon into each ear, I shoved my bloody claws into the sides of his head. He reared back with a shriek. I was on him instantly, launching us against the stairs.
Our weight and force were too much for the rusted staircase. When we hit, the bolts gave, and the staircase collapsed and shattered in metal shards all around us. I kept a firm straddle on Markus’s chest, both hands drilling into his temples.
“He doesn’t care for you,” Markus wheezed as he shuddered beneath me. “I saw it in his head. He only wants you as Malcolm wanted you, as all the filthy minds wanted you.”
The words stabbed me like knives. Much more painful than his pathetic radioactive burn. He had pinpointed my fears. Even more, he’d struck at the connection between Theo and me—the one thing I couldn’t control.
There was a tremor. Like a violent earthquake. The next moment I was in the air. All lingering pain vanished. I peered around the barn. Saw Theo, still gasping for air, Jon and Thirteen at his side. Saw Shane digging through the partition rubble, searching to help the injured hostages.
And I saw me. On top of Markus, my hands still plunged into either side of his head.
I was outside myself, looking down on the scene from several feet above. I recognized my hair, my torn cloths. But my face, my eyes and hands, were all completely foreign. I was strange, beautiful, ethereal. I was a monster.
My eyes swirled, a glowing mixture of crimson and gold. My hands were brown and leathery, joints protruding and claws stretched long.
I watched as my jaw opened wide. My teeth, pointed and long, were as numerous as a shark’s. In an animali
stic roar I clamped my jaw down on Markus’s throat. When I rose, his jugular rested between my teeth.
My eyes closed. A wave of ecstasy shook me. The taste and power of his blood—metallic and tangy—it was too fulfilling not to savor.
Then I opened my eyes.
The world was empty. Not black—my peripheral vision vibrated with color—but blank. Void. I was back in my own skin, but the world around me still felt separate.
I’d killed my brother. I had killed Markus.
There were murmurs everywhere. Voices, thoughts. White noise. A tattered darkness.
Then I saw him. I saw my brother—fear and rage forever frozen in his features.
Strands of Markus’s flesh stuck in between my teeth. The taste of blood and skin coated my mouth and trickled down my throat. As I took stock of this—of what I had done—I had to admit to myself the truth: I…didn’t…hate…it.
Panic tightened my chest. I had let the power rise up and transform me, allowed it to show itself with talons and beastly teeth. What was I becoming? Or had I already turned? My eyes shut tight. The murmurs around me cleared into coherent thoughts.
We need to get the hostages to the police. We need to get out of here. Get out of here then go to the police…
There will be retribution by the family. There is going to be a war now…
I’m going to be sick! God, she’s still holding his throat in her hands…
I looked down. Sure enough, the thick, bloodied tube that had once been Markus’s throat rested on my lap. Oh God.
I twisted onto my hands and knees as my stomached heaved. Blood and bile pooled around me until I had nothing left. And then I heaved again.
Finally empty, I swallowed hard and blocked out everyone’s thoughts. I rose to my feet, legs shaky. Markus’s throat fell to the ground with a wet thud. My knees buckled underneath me.
Strong hands caught me at the elbow, steadied me. The warmth of my core told me who it was. How could he even touch me now?
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