by Jaime Rush
Amy noticed Lucas’s taste in artwork was bent toward the sensual. Like in the dreams. Like the man himself. She caught herself sighing and coughed instead. “You’d think it would smell musty.”
“It has ventilation units and pumps for sewage,” Eric said. “The walls keep the place sixty degrees all year ’round, and one little space heater keeps each level livable.”
She remembered how they’d chloroformed her and interrogated her and then disposed of her before she could ask any questions. That made her all the more pissed off now, knowing they hadn’t been straight with her.
“Tell us what you were doing meeting Cyrus,” Eric said.
She walked up to one of the paintings, an alley in an Italian village painted in odd angles and too-bright colors. She made Eric wait several long seconds before turning to him with her arms crossed on her chest. “He called, said he had something important to tell me. He told me it was too late to turn back, that I had to go on the run. And…he told me what it means to be an Offspring.”
That got their attention. They waited for her to continue. Eric became impatient when she didn’t. “What did he say?”
“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you anything until you tell me what you know. I’ve answered all your questions honestly, but you’ve answered very few of mine, and even then, I’m not sure how honest you were.”
Eric narrowed his icy blue eyes. “Don’t play games with us.”
“I won’t if you won’t. We’re a team, like it or not. You said so yourself. That means I know everything you know and everything about you. Frankly, what you did back there freaked the hell out of me. You’re not like any firebug I’ve ever heard about.”
Petra asked him, “What did you do?”
He started to move toward Amy, and she stiffened her shoulders and met his angry gaze with one of her own. Yes, she was afraid of Eric. She couldn’t forget Cyrus’s warning: You can’t trust them. Eric, in particular, is very dangerous. What if he set her on fire, too? He’d killed two men that she knew of, and he was potentially unstable. But right now she was valuable to him, so she stood her ground.
Petra said, “Eric.”
He tried to stare Amy down for a few more seconds, and she was proud that she didn’t wither. Finally he released a breath. His muscles relaxed, and so did hers.
“We don’t know all that much,” he said. “One of the things we suspect the Offspring have in common is some kind of bioenergetic ability.”
“Bioenergetic?”
“Energy transformation. Psychic. Since we were kids, Lucas had these weird episodes where he woke up at night and drew prescient sketches. He has no memory of doing it.”
“Like these?” Amy said, walking over to the one on the easel that showed someone lying dead on the ground. His warning. She sucked in a breath.
“What?” Petra asked, coming up beside her.
“He said I would be betrayed and someone would die because of that. He thought it would be me.” She turned to them. “Cyrus did betray me, in a way, but he was the one who died. Lucas was right.”
“He’s usually right,” Eric said. “When he gets the same sketch four nights in a row, what he draws always happens on the fifth day.”
Amy flipped past the one on top to his previous sketches and stopped at one that depicted a woman getting slashed with a knife. She flipped to the next sketch and was about to turn away when she saw it was of a woman who looked a lot like her, with frizzy, thick hair and a boyish-straight body. A man had grabbed her, a knife to her throat.
Her hand went to her mouth. The man who intercepted, who stepped in to save her…
Lucas.
“The guy was pretty pissed that Lucas got in the way,” Eric said beside her.
“He got twenty-six stitches,” Petra added in a voice that indicated she wasn’t pleased that he’d sacrificed himself. With her finger, she drew a long line across her stomach.
Amy felt that knife in her gut now and even bent forward in pain. “The blood on the pier. I never…I didn’t know…”
Eric stared at the sketch. “It was the first time he’d had one of his premonitions about you. I could tell it wigged him out. It was also the first time he got enough information to prevent what he drew. You were a strong incentive.”
Petra turned away, and her gaze went to the painting from Amy’s dream. “Lucas obviously can get into dreams, or at least yours. I didn’t realize the man in his paintings was him.” Raw jealousy colored her expression, and she started cracking her knuckles.
“He kept his face in shadow to me, too.” Amy turned to Eric. “And you…you can set people on fire. Is that some trick or is it…what did you call it? Bioenergetic?”
“I got that word from a book about the Soviet psychic programs. Yes, I change the energy and create fire. It’s called pyrokinesis.”
Petra just stared at him. “Since when?”
“As far back as I can remember.”
“All those fires…” Her face paled. “Not our house?”
He turned away. “No. Some of the fires I started. Abandoned buildings and, yes, the one I was brought in for. Bastards deserved it. No one was hurt.”
Petra said, “Amy said you set a man on fire back at the park.”
“Out of necessity. They had us at gunpoint.”
Petra’s hand went to her mouth. “I can’t believe you burned a man to death. You murdered someone.”
“He also deserved it.” Eric walked over and dropped down on the couch. “Enough about the fires. I can also remote view.”
Amy followed him, perching on the coffee table across from him. “Psychic spying. Cyrus mentioned that.”
“What else did he say?”
“Uh-uh, not yet. What about you, Petra?”
She looked down. “I don’t have any ability.”
“Yes, you do,” Eric said, surprising Petra. “Your superior hearing.”
“I thought that was just good hearing.”
He propped his feet up on the table next to Amy. “I think it’s more than that.”
Petra’s shoulders stiffened. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
“I didn’t want you to get too full of yourself.”
While she grappled with that, Amy wondered about their dynamic. Very interesting, and Eric’s need for control and superiority very telling.
Be careful of him, her instincts warned.
Amy took off Cyrus’s coat and hugged it to her chest. “What about the CIA officer you killed? Glad-something-or-other?”
Again Petra’s eyes widened in surprise. She hadn’t known, which hopefully meant that Lucas hadn’t known either and therefore had nothing to do with it. She didn’t realize she’d been wondering about that.
“Eric!” Petra said. “You killed Gladstone?”
Again he didn’t look the least bit chagrined. “I killed him before he killed me. Lucas drew four sketches of me dying. In the last one we saw the man’s face.” He looked at Petra. “It was Gladstone, wasn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she said.
“Probably.”
“Did you burn him, too?” Amy asked, not sure she wanted to know.
He couldn’t hide the trace of a smile. “Yes.”
Amy said, “You were angry about Lucas coming to me, yet you killed a man without their knowledge.”
“That guy was an enemy. Lucas got himself caught by warning you.”
Stubborn son of a bitch.
“We also suspect that whoever these people are, they’re trying to recruit us for our bioenergetic abilities. When Gladstone cut into my arson interrogation, he asked if I’d be interested in using my fire-setting skills for the government. He didn’t say ‘your pyrokinesis skills,’ but I now know that’s what he meant. That’s why he was casing Lucas and Petra, too, trying to determine their skills.”
“Cyrus was, too,” Amy said in a quiet voice. “On the profile pages, there was a link called ‘Skills.’ I wish I’d had time to look at them.�
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“What are they after?” Eric asked her. “Why are they interested in us?”
Amy wagged her finger at him. Not yet. She had to admit, it was damned nice to have the power for a change. “When Lucas broke in, he said my dad’s supposed suicide. Why?”
Eric put his arms behind his head, looking like he didn’t care about the power shift. But by the twitch in his jaw, she knew better. “Our mothers, your dad, and Hammond’s dad all died either by accident or suicide. Something’s not right there, but we don’t know what.”
Sensing he was telling her the truth, she proceeded to tell them everything, or nearly everything. She left out the Ultra part. As he’d told Petra, she didn’t want him to get full of himself.
They both listened and didn’t interrupt until she mentioned the sexual side effects. Petra looked at Eric. “That’s why you’re so horny.”
Amy raised her eyebrows.
“Petra,” he warned in a low voice.
Amy was glad she didn’t take the warning. “He’s been arrested for sex in a public place and solicitation for prostitution.”
“I don’t consider a canoe in the middle of a lake public.” He recited it as though he’d said it many times. “I’ve never had to pay for sex.”
Amy imagined he didn’t, not a muscular guy with sculpted cheekbones and riveting eyes. His personality, though, wasn’t exactly a plus.
Petra giggled. “When he hit his teens he was more sex-crazed than other boys. I’d heard the girls talk about how the boys would go off in about three seconds, but I heard Eric moaning and groaning for forty minutes.”
“You listened?” Eric said.
She shrugged. “I had to learn somehow. Dad couldn’t even utter the word ‘sex’ around me. I didn’t have a mom around to explain it.”
Amy nodded. “I know that feeling. My aunt, who raised me after my parents died, was too busy to talk about the birds and bees.” She glanced at the sepia painting. “What about Lucas?”
Petra’s humor vanished. “Though Eric would do it just about anywhere, Lucas was private. And quiet. He chose older girls, not high schoolers, so there wasn’t any gossip about him. Neither ever had a long-term relationship. Eric eventually drove them away by being his charming self. Lucas…I don’t know.”
Amy didn’t want to think about Lucas being with another woman. “The other side effect of being in the program was…well, going crazy.”
When Petra looked at Eric, he said, “Don’t even go there, little sister.”
“I was going to ask if you think that’s why Mom set herself on fire.”
Amy’s mouth dropped open. “Your mother set herself on fire?”
Petra said, “Dad told us it was an accident at the lab, but we overheard him saying she’d set the fire. And she probably did it through pyrokinesis. Not on purpose, like suicide. Maybe she lost control.”
Amy continued. “Now they’re looking for the offspring. For us.”
“Did you find out how many there are?” Eric asked.
“I wish I’d had time.” She looked away. “They call you—us—Rogues.”
“Rogues.” A smile spread across his face. “I like it.”
A thought jumped to mind. “Eric, if you can remote view, you can go to Lucas, see where he is.”
“Normally I could. I think I’m there, but it’s pitch-black, eerie.”
“But she can connect with him,” Petra said to her brother. “Or rather, he can connect to her.”
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “Maybe the dream connection works differently.”
They grew silent. Finally, Petra said, “Lucas asked you about those fires, even the ones that happened when you had an alibi.”
“Don’t look at me like that. That’s why I never told you.”
“You killed a man,” she whispered.
“Two men,” Amy clarified.
Petra looked at Eric, confusion in her eyes. “I can understand that, if it was the only way you could escape. But Eric…Gladstone was tied up. He couldn’t hurt you.”
“Not then, but he would have. Petra, this is a war. They’re out to kill us. Get over it.”
She winced but said nothing.
Eric walked down the hall and returned a minute later with the hard drive for a laptop. He handed it to Amy. “Gladstone’s drive,” he said. “Find out what’s on it.”
CHAPTER 15
An hour later Gerard and Robbins watched Lucas on the monitor as he sank into a receptive state. His brain waves jumped erratically. Gerard typed preliminary notes at his computer.
“Now that he’s had three injections,” Gerard said, “we’re starting to see a difference in his brain wave patterns.”
Robbins’s expression was dour. “When will his sanity start breaking down?”
“I think we’ll get another mission out of him, maybe two if we’re lucky.”
That stopped Robbins. “How long?”
“For what?”
“How long until we start secretly giving the new recruits the Booster?”
“We’re only giving the Booster to the Rogues.”
“How long before you grow impatient? Look what happened last time.”
A knock at the door interrupted him. Olivia peered in. “Leon’s here.”
“What the hell does—” Gerard cut himself short as his older brother pushed past Olivia. He forced a smile but didn’t put too much effort behind it. Civil was as much effort as he and his older brother could expend toward each other. “Robbins, we’re done.”
Robbins left. Olivia paused with a questioning look on her face but closed the door and left, too.
Leon didn’t sit, nor did he bother with any kind of greeting. He walked around the room, looking at the monitors. “Who’s that?” he asked, nodding toward Lucas, who, thankfully, didn’t look like a prisoner.
“What can I do for you, Leon?”
Leon spun around and narrowed his eyes at Gerard’s nonanswer. Leon was taller, better looking, and, in some ways, smarter, a fact he had always rubbed in. That and his major general status. “I’ve heard that you’ve been preoccupied with a new program, and it smelled like the last one that nearly destroyed our family’s name.”
Gerard remained in his chair, relaxing his tense muscles before his adversary picked up on it. Leon could smell fear like a snake sensed movement. “Are you spying on me? Or is it Father?”
Leon Darkwell Sr. was a five-star general and as fiercely protective of his status as Gerard was of his program.
“Gerard, you don’t think you were able to climb back up to where you are at the CIA just by your abilities alone, do you?”
Gerard’s face flushed. “I sure as hell do.”
He hated Leon’s smug smile. “You always were delusional, little brother.”
That propelled Gerard to his feet, something he instantly regretted. Never let your opponent force you into defensive action. “Get to the point. I’ve got work to do.”
“That is my point. I’m here to find out what you’re up to. Like a child, you have to be checked on.”
“Get out of here. I only have one boss to answer to.”
Leon, as always, looked unruffled by his unwillingness to cooperate. “Yes, you do. I’m sure he’ll be interested to know how you nearly brought down the CIA twenty years ago.”
“He already knows. He trusts my judgment.”
“Why the armed guards?”
“To keep out the riffraff. Obviously they aren’t doing their job.”
Leon gave him a humorless smile and left.
Lucas wanted to get this mission over with so he could connect to Amy. He had studied the picture of the terrorist living in London. The Devil had given him the gory details of what this man had done to hundreds of innocent people…if he could trust a man who had abducted him, was injecting him with some unknown substance, and would probably kill him as soon as he outlived his usefulness.
In the sensory deprivation state, his mind quickly sank i
nto the murky depths. First the shapes floating around in the darkness. Then flashes of images. This time every image that flashed into his brain came with a tearing pain like nothing he’d ever felt. He saw Eric and Amy, the dancing light of fire on their faces; Amy at…at the shelter. She was there now or would be. He couldn’t tell what was past or future. The storm seemed a mix of both. No matter, if she was at the shelter or would be, she was safe.
He saw a man strapped to a table like him, writhing against the restraints, his face bruised. Before Lucas could get a good look, he was gone. Ripping pain. More images coming faster, so fast he couldn’t grab hold of them. Gunfire. Eric’s scream. Pain. Blackness. Then the target, sleeping, nice room, woman next to him, dreams of destruction, hatred, dreaming of death to the enemy…Americans, Brits.
He went in.
A second later he was out again, like a diver who kept floating to the surface just before he could grab the treasure on the bottom of the sea.
He dove in again. This had never happened before. He was losing control. And the pain, God, the pain was so bad. He brought his mind back to the target, but other images slammed in: more gunshots, Amy falling to the ground. Again, gone before he could see any details. The Booster was making him lose control. Not that he’d ever had any real control of his abilities, but at least he knew them. He’d learned how to use them to help people. These images were painful and so fleeting he couldn’t do anything with them.
He pressed his fingers to his closed eyes until he saw crazy purple lines. Focus. He had to do this. If Amy hadn’t gone to the shelter yet, he had to cooperate and be useful long enough for her to get there.
The fact that he saw her there meant things had gotten ugly. Damn, he didn’t want to think about that. Not now. He would go to her, find out what was going on.
He focused his thoughts again, imagining the target’s face. The storm of images now centered on the man: meeting with other men; hatred; a bomb exploding in a large department store, screams, children, blood…
Lucas felt the familiar anger that engulfed him whenever he tried to get into a murderer’s dreams. He saw the man again, still asleep. He dove in.