by Jade Kerrion
Dee grinned. “You mean like how Danyael’s empathic powers are getting in the way of him realizing that Zara loves him? To be fair, I don’t think Zara’s much good at relationships either, and she’s probably giving him mixed messages.”
“Maybe.” Jessica pressed a hand over her eyes. “I never want a relationship like that. I don’t think it can be any more messed up. Adults can be such screw-ups.”
Dee agreed. They lingered in companionable silence and watched people spill into the crowded parking lot. Up on the soundstage, Dum bopped along to the music, his empathic powers infusing joy and love into the beat.
“I don’t think you can fake that either,” Jessica said, responding to Dee’s thoughts.
No, you can’t. Dee’s smile was so wide that her face muscles hurt. He’s better. My brother’s really getting better.
11
Bye, Dum. Good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dum turned and waved at Mary, who managed the kitchen staff at the diner, before heading out through the swinging door. His hands were still damp from loading the dishwasher, and he pressed them against his jeans to dry them.
A month had passed since Seth’s unprovoked attack on them—though, to be fair, Dee’s sassy attitude and smart mouth might have been considered sufficient provocation—and life had returned to normal. Zara’s mercenaries no longer trailed Dum; they were no longer necessary. Whatever Danyael had said to Alex Saunders had worked. Within a day of the attack, Alex Saunders, the former director general of the council, had come out of his retirement in the south of France. By order of the president of the United States, Alex had been reinstated as director general of the council. Seth Copper was taken into custody and held for investigation.
Jessica had not told them what the charges were, but Dum heard rumors that the charges included unregulated, unethical genetic experimentation and assault. Surgically or psychically installed off-switches that triggered unconsciousness definitely qualified as assault.
Dum shuddered at the thought. If he had stayed longer at the council, would the council have installed one in him, too? Luckily for him, though, Dee was a fount of great ideas, and breaking free from the council had been among her most inspired ones.
Dum reached into his pocket for his ear pods, but paused at the musical chime of Dee’s laughter. He glanced toward a corner booth, his brown eyes narrowing at the sight of his sister getting cozy with Edward Delvar.
Why was Edward sniffing around Dee again, and worse, why was Dee tolerating it?
“Hey, Dum!” Dee waved him over. “We’re going to check out the monuments. Do you want to come along?”
Dum was about to shake his head until he sensed Edward’s displeasure. With a grin, Dum nodded. Sure, he would spend his afternoon in mindless tourist activities if it would make Edward miserable.
Together, they took the Metro to the Smithsonian station. Content to eavesdrop, Dum tagged along behind Dee and Edward as they meandered among the marble columns of the Jefferson Memorial. The low hum of their conversation blended with the soft, edgy music piping in through his ear pods. Inevitably, the topic shifted away from trivial chatter.
“I’m sorry it’s been so long since I came by to see you,” Edward said.
Dee’s fingers were laced through Edward’s, and her smile was cheerful. She shrugged. “No worries. I’ve been busy too.”
“With the foundation and the dance party.” Edward nodded his head toward a large advertisement emblazoned on the side of a passing bus. “The ads have just started going up. How’s the party planning coming along?”
“Tiring. Professional event managers are doing most of the work, but I still get called at odd hours of the day and night to make decisions about the foundation’s policies or the event itself.”
Edward chuckled. “I can’t believe you’re actually the president of a foundation.”
Dee grinned. “I’m still learning. Fortunately, I’ve got lots of advisors, and a board of directors that actually knows what it’s doing.”
“I checked out the foundation’s website yesterday.”
Dee perked up. “You did? What did you think of it?”
“The website looked great, though its policies seemed a bit inconsistent.”
Dum rolled his eyes. Here it comes.
“Really? Which ones?” Dee asked.
“You’re giving scholarships to orphans, particularly those who lost their parents in Elysium or Sakti’s attack, right?”
“Yup.”
Edward stopped walking and turned to face Dee, his expression solemn. “I’d qualify twice over on those grounds, but according to the policies on the website, I’m not eligible to apply.”
“Oh?” Dee met his gaze, her hands on her hips and a flinty expression in her eyes. “Was it because of your sub-par GPA, or the fact that you haven’t held a job since dropping out of college?”
Dum stifled a chuckle. His sister did not need any help in seeing past a slick conman.
“Dee.” Edward took her hand in hers. “You know it’s been rough—”
“Did you even try to find a job since we last spoke?” Dee peered into Edward’s face as if searching for the truth. “Unbelievable. You didn’t even try.”
“Look, if this party goes well, you’re going to be sitting on top of thousands of dollars—”
“This money is for the foundation! Dum and I are still working two jobs each to cover our rent. Dum’s washing dishes at the diner, for God’s sake. You don’t hear him moaning about the fact that he’s the one who’s going to be bringing in all this money for the foundation and therefore deserves some slack.”
Edward snorted. “Dum doesn’t talk.”
“He has no trouble communicating, trust me.”
“I need money for two more years of college. Surely you can put in a good word for me.”
Dee glared at him. “A committee makes the decisions on who gets a scholarship. The policies are in place for a reason. We’re going to be responsible stewards of the money. We’re not going to waste it on—”
“On people like me?” Edward’s voice was tight with anger.
“Take your hands off me.” Dee warned. “This isn’t about you.”
“Your foundation was set up for people like me.” He shook his head, venomous disgust in his tone. “You don’t even know who your friends are. You’re so obsessed with Danyael—”
“Don’t make my friendship with Danyael something it’s not.”
“He’s a monster, Dee. He killed my parents—”
Dee’s voice trembled, but her answer was sharper than barbs. “If you want to be a victim, that’s fine. Just remember that Danyael is as much a victim as you are, but at least he’s working hard to put his life back together. What have you done?”
Edward raised his hand. “You self-righteous bitch—”
Dum lunged forward, intercepting Edward’s fist as it fell. The skittering beat of the music in his head switched. His fear for his sister’s safety and his anger at Edward merged into a wild flurry of jarring sound that obliterated coherent thought.
The red haze in his mind dissipated when Dee screamed. “No! Stop!”
Dum blinked, watching in horror as Edward fled down the steps of the Jefferson Memorial. The young man’s eyes were wide, his nostrils flaring, and his mouth agape as he screamed with terror. Apparently unseeing and unthinking, Edward ran directly into the path of a passing vehicle.
Brakes screeched. Dee screamed again as Edward’s body went flying and landed in a broken heap on the asphalt.
A moment later, Dum’s world plunged into silence.
The silence had not lasted.
Dum hated silence. He hated the stunned helplessness that accompanied the awful silence; the dawning horror that life would never be the same. After his father died, Dum had found refuge in music, but no longer. At some point in the midst of the chaos following Edward’s accident and transfer to the hospital, the music in Dum’s mind
started up again, a low and ominous tune that damned him with each pulsing beat.
His music had turned against him.
The jarring sound in Dum’s mind drowned Dee’s quiet sniffles and the soft beeping of the machines surrounding Edward’s bed. Dum stared at the clock on the wall of the hospital room and meticulously counted each movement of its hands to keep the harsh and discordant tune in his head from overwhelming him. He clenched his fists to keep himself from pulling out his hair; all he could hear was himself. The noise, too ugly to be called music, played over and over again until he thought he would go mad—
A hand landed gently on Dum’s shoulder, and the cacophony pounding through his head fell silent. Blinking back the tears from his eyes, Dum looked up at Danyael.
“It’s going to be all right,” Danyael promised quietly.
If only Dum dared believe him, but then again, Danyael alone could weave peace into silence.
Jessica barged past Danyael and sank down beside Dum, throwing her arm around his shoulders. Dum?
Dum’s mental voice trembled. I killed him.
Jessica looked up at the bed where Edward lay in a coma. Technically, he’s still alive. Don’t worry. Danyael will take care of him.
Danyael limped toward the bed, his crutch tapping against the linoleum tiles. He stood over Edward and placed his hand on the young man’s chest. The alpha empath breathed in and out deeply and then closed his eyes.
The whisper of a rich and vibrant harmony surged through Dum’s mind. A single tear leaked out, trickling down his cheek. Danyael’s music…
Huh? Jessica asked.
It’s always so beautiful. Why can’t my music be like his?
She squeezed his hand. Over time, it will. Be patient.
The music built, layering instruments and harmonies, one on top of the other, into an intricate and brilliant whole, marred only by minute breaks that matched Danyael’s uneven breaths; healing came at a heavy price.
By the time Danyael stepped back and the music faded, the alpha empath was pale and unsteady on his feet. Dee leaped up and helped him to the chair she had vacated. “Thank you,” Danyael murmured. He looked up at Dee. “Why does he hate me?”
Dee pressed her lips together and swallowed hard. “You can feel it?”
Danyael nodded.
“He lost his father in the explosion at Elysium, and his mother was killed by Sakti on July Fourth.”
Danyael looked away.
“It’s not your fault,” Dee hastened to say.
“It is.” Edward’s voice, slurred with disorientation, was rancid with hate. Moving slowly, he propped himself up on one elbow and glared at Danyael.
Dee placed herself between Danyael and Edward. “You were dying. The doctors said you would never wake from the coma, but Danyael healed you.”
“My parents are dead because of Danyael, and the only reason I was in a coma is because of him.” His gaze swiveled across the room and locked on Dum.
Dum’s eyes widened. You attacked my sister—
Jessica shot to her feet, her indignant voice repeating the words Dum threw into her mind. “—Was I supposed to stand by and watch you hit her just because you’re too stupid to get good grades and too lazy to get a job? If you come near her again, I will send you running into traffic, and this time, we won’t call Danyael to save your pathetic life.”
Edward’s jaw dropped. He glanced briefly at Jessica, glared at Dum, and then settled for directing his words somewhere in between Jessica and Dum. “They’ll lock you away. When I tell everyone what you did to me, they’ll lock you in prison and throw away the key—”
Danyael’s quiet voice cut him off. “Jessica.”
The telepath met Danyael’s dark eyes. Something seemed to pass between them, and she nodded. She stepped up to the bed and smiled down at Edward. It was not a pleasant smile. “You’re going to feel a great deal better when you wake.”
A scream of raw agony had barely emerged from Edward’s throat when he collapsed back onto the pillows, unconscious.
“Jess, that wasn’t necessary.” Danyael’s voice carried a soft rebuke.
“Of course not,” Jessica said, “but the psi-blast helped me feel better. How much should I erase?” she asked, looking to Danyael for guidance.
“All contact with Dee and Dum today.”
She nodded. “Okay. I’ll make up something to fill the gaps in his memory.” A dimple danced in her cheek. “I love creative storytelling—”
“Wait,” Dee said, her voice spiking with alarm. “Are you erasing his memory? But you’re covering up—”
“It’s standard council procedure,” Danyael said, and Jessica nodded, confirming his statement.
“Did you want me to erase his memories of his parents’ deaths too?” Jessica asked.
Danyael shook his head. “No, leave them.”
“But he hates you.”
“Removing the memories will not remove the emotions associated with the memories, and his hatred runs too deep.”
“You could change it,” Jessica said.
“Not without absorbing it, and I’d rather not go through that experience again. It’s easier to live with someone hating me than to live with self-hatred.”
Jessica nodded again, conceding Danyael’s point. “It makes sense.” She dragged a chair to Edward’s bedside. “This job could take a while. Might as well be comfy while working.”
Dee raced across the small room and threw her arms around Dum’s neck. “I heard you,” she whispered into his ear. Her voice shook. “Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her, squeezing his eyes shut to hold back the tears. What would he do without his sister? What could he do without her? She had done everything for him.
Dee’s love seeped out to fill the space between them. Her emotions took on the whisper of a song, a tune that their parents had once sung to them in the night. His grip on her tightened as her music smoothed the sharp edges of his guilt, calming him. Because of her, his own music began, hesitant but no longer discordant. It entwined around Dee’s contented little tune, and the harmony they created anchored his soul.
An hour later, Dee, Dum, Jessica, and Danyael gathered around a table in the hospital cafeteria. Jessica was ravenous. Apparently, creatively reworking Edward’s memories had awakened her appetite, and she worked her way through three cheeseburgers, two hot dogs, and a large serving of French fries.
Dee limited herself to a plate of unappetizing chicken fingers, and she finally pushed her plate aside, her appetite lost when she saw that Danyael was barely managing to keep down sips of water. Healing took such a heavy toll on him.
“So, what’s going to happen when Edward wakes up?” she asked.
Jessica swallowed a mouthful of food before responding. “He’ll think he met a cute chick at the Jefferson Memorial, struck up an interesting conversation, and then said something that offended her. She dashed away from him, and he followed, straight into traffic.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
Jessica nodded. “Always keep a lie simple. Edward will probably fill in the story over time, and work it out such that it was the girl’s fault he got into the accident. He’s that type, after all. It’s always someone else’s fault; never his own.”
“He wasn’t always like that,” Dee said. She sighed. “Maybe he’ll come to terms with the foundation, though it’s hard to see how that will happen over the next month. He’ll be surrounded by ads for the dance party. It’ll grate at him like an open wound.”
“Are the ads up already?” Danyael asked.
“All over Washington D.C., Virginia, and Maryland, though not so much in Anacostia. You wouldn’t have seen them; you rarely leave Anacostia.” Dee dug into her bag, pulled out a bright flyer, and slid it across the table to Danyael.
Danyael picked up the flyer. His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.
Dee giggled. Danyael’s equilibrium was so flawlessly constructed
that it was amazing to see it fall apart.
Danyael’s voice was no louder than a stunned whisper. “You called it what?”
The giggle transformed into a chortle. She leaned over the table and pointed at the words on the flyer. “It says it right there. The Danyael Sabre Foundation.”
“No…” He shook his head. “Why?”
“It’s just our way of saying thanks,” Dee said. “We wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without your help.” She glanced at her brother. Surprisingly, Dum seemed to have been listening in on the conversation, his ear pods notwithstanding, and he nodded too.
Danyael shook his head. “But that’s crazy. Lucien…”
“Seems to be okay with it,” Dee said. She took the flyer from Danyael and offered him a nonchalant shrug. “Anyway, it’s done. The paperwork’s filed, and it would cost a fortune to change the name, so I guess we’re stuck with it even if you disagree.”
Jessica snorted. “I’ve never seen anyone run over Danyael quite that easily before.”
Dee giggled again. “I know, right? I think I’m getting good at this.”
Jessica reached for her glass of soda. “It’s getting late. Are we going to train the twins tonight, Danyael, or do you want a free pass so that you can rest?”
Dee heaved a sigh. “Do we have to keep at this? We’ve had months of lessons from the council and from you two, but it’s not working. The psychic shields just aren’t happening for Dum or for me.”
“Some people just can’t,” Jessica agreed. “You and Dum might be among them.”
“Maybe it’s time to call it quits on this effort, Danyael.” Dee looked across the table at the alpha empath. “Besides, Jessica has us really well protected.”
Danyael sighed, more motion than sound. “Fine. We’ll take a break and start afresh in the new year.”
Dee rolled her eyes. “You’re not giving up on us, are you?”
The alpha empath managed a faint smile. “No, and you shouldn’t either.”
12
The month flew by, and December twenty-third rolled around much too quickly for Dee’s taste. She stared at the tablet in front of her and slowly scrolled through information far too detailed to absorb in a single hour. Clarissa Clark shared the diner booth. The small-framed event manager was a bundle of energy. She wore her hair in a practical ponytail and used little makeup to highlight her clear and radiant complexion. Dee envied Clarissa’s plump, rosy cheeks and concluded that they likely resulted from her perpetual smile.