Silence Ends

by Jade Kerrion

  “The last time I stepped outside of my job description to help someone, I landed up with a life sentence in a maximum-security prison. The government didn’t even go through the pretense of a trial.”

  “But the president pardoned you.”

  “In spite of what this looks like to you, this isn’t freedom. I’m on a short leash. I screw up once, I go back to prison, and this time, no one is going to care enough to get me out.”

  How could he keep his voice so calm and even? “So you’re going to settle for being a mutant and poor for the rest of your life? There is no future there!”

  “A year ago, I had nothing. Now, the only future I need is a chance to see my daughter grow up. Everything else is gravy.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  Danyael shrugged. “Obviously not for you. What do you want?”

  Dee glanced at Dum. He shrugged too. She had to find her answers somewhere else. “I…want to know that there’s something to get excited about in the future, not just a lifetime of working at waitressing jobs and living off tips. Should I go to college?”

  Danyael chuckled. “College isn’t a guaranteed ticket for financial success. I have a college degree and a medical degree, but I work at the free clinic for less than minimum wage. There’s a good chance you and Dum have more disposable income from your jobs than I do, especially since you don’t have to pay for child support or pay off educational loans.”

  “The college degree will help, though, won’t it?”

  “Depending on the college, and depending on your major.”

  Dee wrinkled her nose. “Why is it so complicated? How much will it cost?”

  “Once again, it depends.” Danyael pulled a computer tablet from the drawer of his desk and handed it to her. “I’ll need twenty more minutes with Dum. Meanwhile, you can do your research.”

  Dee’s research yielded much, but offered little hope. She sighed as she mentally calculated their savings. Without state residency, even the state colleges were expensive. Under the most optimistic scenario, it would be ten years before they could afford to put themselves through college. Educational loans were not an option, not without a cosigner. If she asked, she was almost certain that Danyael would cosign the loans, but she could not ask it of him, not when she had already demanded so much from the alpha empath.

  Dee returned the tablet to Danyael when he and Dum walked out of the office. “Thanks for working with Dum today.” She nudged her brother. “Come on. We’ve got to get to the club.”

  Dum nodded, digging the ear pods out of the pocket of his denim jeans and sticking them in his ears. Dee rolled her eyes. If Dum could have those ear pods surgically grafted into his ears, he probably would. She held her tongue, though. Complaining was in poor form, especially since Dum’s outstanding musical talents had landed him the job of deejay at Legends, effectively doubling their income.

  Dee and Dum walked out of the clinic together, leaving Danyael to lock up. Legends was six blocks away, and while the roads were not safe, they were becoming familiar. She knew which sides of the street to walk on, to veer into the middle of the road rather than walk past an alleyway, and most importantly, to avoid the black and red pentagram of the Ravens even if it meant a several-block detour.

  Dum jerked to a stop, clasped her hand, and squeezed hard.

  Three men blocked their path. Dee ground her teeth. Sometimes, it scarcely mattered if you went out of your way to avoid trouble, especially when trouble seemed determined to find you. Two of the three men wore black shirts etched with a red pentagram. The third man she recognized, vaguely.

  He pointed at Dum. “That’s the kid who stole my job.”

  The former deejay at Legends.

  Damn it.

  The streets were empty, but even if they had not been, no passersby would have intervened in a fight involving the Ravens. “Can you use your music to chase them away?” Dee asked, her voice pitched low.

  Dum shook his head.

  The gang members were in their early twenties and were bigger and stronger than Dum. One of them smirked, closing the distance to them. His hand slid into his jacket. He pulled out a knife, the silver of the blade reflecting the pale glow of a streetlamp. “You’re gonna miss work today, kid, and Mario is going to give the job back to Jack.”

  Dee swallowed hard. Would they hear how fast her heart was pounding? “We don’t want any trouble. Just let us go and we’ll promise not to go to the club.”

  “It ain’t that easy. We don’t want you slipping around us when our backs are turned, do we? Maybe we’ll break a couple of legs, and you can’t get to the club. Just to be sure, we’ll break a couple of fingers too, and you can’t play no damn music.”

  Like hell. She wasn’t going to wait for them to beat her up. Dee reached into the dip between her breasts, pulled out her tube of pepper spray, and squirted its contents into the man’s face. He recoiled, screaming. The knife tumbled from his hands as he pressed his fingers against his eyes. Dee lunged forward and kneed him in the groin. He doubled over with a guttural groan of pain.

  A strong arm jerked her back, locking around her neck, and cutting off her air passage. Brown and yellow spots swam before her eyes. She gasped, her lungs burning. Darkness encroached on the edges of her vision, like the frayed edges of a veil.

  The grip around her neck vanished, and she stumbled forward, scraping her knees on the ground. She scarcely felt the pain as she rolled onto her back. Two feet away, Dum wrestled with her assailant. She winced, almost feeling Dum’s pain when the gangster drove a fist into Dum’s stomach.

  Jack, the former deejay, stood with mouth agape as one of his friends wrestled with Dum and the other huddled on his knees, one forearm pressed against his eyes, and other hand fumbling about in his jacket for—

  A gun.

  Dee snatched up the knife her first attacker had dropped and drove the blade through the man’s bicep. He screamed, dropping the gun into Dee’s waiting hand. She wrapped her fist around the muzzle, and smashed the hilt down on the back of the man’s head, the way she had seen done in movies. The man slumped silently to the ground, and lay there, unmoving.

  Dum’s groan spun her around. Her brother was doubled over, his hands wrapped around his stomach. Blood leaked from the side of his mouth. Her mind empty of coherent thought, Dee turned the pistol around in her hand, pointed it at the man who stood over Dum, and pulled the trigger.

  She blinked, recoiling from the shockingly loud sound. In that moment, her precise and instinctive control over the situation snapped. Her hand trembled on the grip of the gun as the man stared down at his chest and pressed his hands against his shirt. They came away crimson with blood. He reeled to his knees and collapsed.

  Oh, my God, I’ve killed him…

  Dum straightened slowly, his face twisted in a grimace. Dee shoved the gun into his hand and pulled out her cell phone, hitting the first number on speed dial. Pick up, damn it. Ten feet away, Jack, his face pale, backed away carefully, and then turned and ran down the road.

  The phone clicked as Danyael answered the call. “Yes?”

  His voice, always calm, took the edge off her skittering nerves. Even so, her words babbled out. “We were attacked. I knocked one out and shot the other. I don’t know—”

  “Are you all right? Where are you?”

  “We’re both fine. We’re…uh…” She peered up at the dimly lit street signs. “At Sixteenth and W. Danyael, I…I think he might be dead.”

  “He’s not breathing?”

  Dee stared down at the man, trying to discern minute movements of his chest. The poor light did not permit it. “I don’t know. I can look—”

  “No. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I want you and Dum to get out of there, right now. Get to Legends; Jessica can protect you.”

  “You want me to leave him? But he could be—”

  “There is nothing you can do. Get out of there before his friends show up. I’ll take ca
re of this.”

  “And his gun?”

  “Take it with you.” He hung up on her.

  Dee caught Dum’s hand, and they ran, not stopping until they skidded through the bouncer-protected entrance of Legends. Jessica was lounging on a couch and shot to her feet when they scrambled into the club. “What…” Her blue eyes flashed wide and then narrowed. “…the hell.” Her voice that had lilted with anxiety ended on a flat and cool note. She tugged Dum over to the couch, sat him down, and proceeded to make distressed mewling sounds as she dabbed at his cut lip with a napkin. If Dee had not been watching closely, she might have missed the quick and subtle transfer of the gun from Dum’s jacket to Jessica’s.

  “What…” Dee caught herself and switched to a silent conversation. What are you going to do with it?

  Make it disappear.

  Dee’s brow furrowed. Were Danyael and Jessica conspiring to conceal the murder?

  We’re conspiring to save your life, Jessica snapped.

  This isn’t right.

  Fine. You worry about what’s right. We’ll worry about what’s smart.

  But he could have family—

  “Is everything okay here?” Mario’s deep voice cut into their telepathic conversation.

  Dee looked up sharply. “Yes. Yes, everything’s fine.”

  Mario’s gaze shifted slowly and deliberately among the three of them. Dee fought down the crawling sensation that inched up her spine. He had known that Jessica was a telepath. What else did he know, or suspect? Mario nodded, finally, and to her relief, he did not push for the truth. “Get the music going.”

  Dum nodded and scrambled toward the soundstage. A minute or two later, a lively beat pulsed through the loudspeakers.

  Dee’s feet twitched and tapped to the beat until she gave in and danced along, if stepping from side-to-side counted as dancing. The bartender tugged a hostess out onto the dance floor, and their flashy, sensual dance did justice to the music. Even Mario relaxed. Like an indulgent grandfather, he leaned against the wall and smiled as he watched his staff celebrate Dum’s music.

  Over the next half hour, as customers trickled in, the staff went back to work. The dance floor filled up. The low buzz of chatter was frequently sprinkled with laughter, and smiles flashed white under the strobe lights. How much of that was Dum’s doing?

  Most of it, Jessica confirmed. He’s projecting his emotions through the music, and affecting just enough people to create a chain reaction.

  Dee shook her head. It’s amazing. I never knew…

  Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Dum’s come a long way in two weeks.

  Danyael doesn’t do anything except talk to him, but maybe that’s all he needed…someone who would talk to him instead of talk through me.

  Jessica’s blue eyes widened, and the half-smile drained from her face. She strode over to Dee, grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the soundstage. Trouble.

  “What kind?”

  The red-star gang members, about thirty of them, are headed this way.

  The Ravens?

  Jessica nodded. Stay with Dum. I’ll go help the bouncers keep them out. The furor at the entryway drew their attention. A bouncer went sprawling, and another was slammed into the wall. The narrow corridor between the entrance and the club filled, and then overflowed, with men in black T-shirts emblazoned with the red pentacle. Damn it. Too late.

  One of them pointed at Dee. “That’s the one. Kill her.”

  Guns whipped out. Customers screamed and ran for cover. Dee ducked and then froze, her eyes wide with confusion as the bullets ricocheted off an invisible wall that seemed to surround the gang members. They screamed as bullets bounced around the enclosing sphere. There was no place to hide from the hell they had unleashed upon themselves.

  Jessica watched, narrow-eyed, her expression flinty.

  “Enough.” Danyael’s voice, low and calm, carried through the nightclub.

  Jessica looked at him and nodded grudgingly. The bullets, the ones that had not yet sunk into a vulnerable body, froze in mid-flight and dropped to the ground, the energy sucked out of them.

  Danyael limped forward, each step slow and pained.

  One of the gang members looked around at his injured friends. His face twisted with rage, he raised his pistol and pointed it at Jessica. The alpha mutant smirked back at him. His finger tightened on the trigger, but then he shrieked a sound of raw terror. The gun tumbled from his hand as he curled in upon himself, sobbing and wailing like a stricken child. Everyone in the club seemed caught in that inescapable net of mind-numbing fear, except Mario, Jessica, Dum, and Dee.

  Jessica tapped the side of her head and grinned. Psychic shields. Never leave home without them.

  Danyael did that?

  Yup, he can do far worse. This is nothing for him. Let me get their toys away from them before they get into more trouble.

  Guns that had fallen unchecked from the hands of the gang members drifted into the air and wafted out of reach. Only then did the apparent fear fade. The man who had aimed his gun at Jessica uncoiled. His eyes narrowed with hate, he used the back of his hand to wipe the spittle from his mouth before charging at Danyael. The impact slammed Danyael back into the wall, but it was the man who screamed in agony, dropping to his knees, his arms wrapped around his stomach as he retched up bile and blood.

  Dee shuddered. Danyael’s seeming lack of ambition and his contentment with little was not a statement of weakness. He could act with decisive power, channeling physical and emotional pain when the situation demanded. Could Dum do that too some day?

  Danyael straightened, leaned heavily on his crutch, and limped forward. His low voice carried through the silent nightclub. “You didn’t even bother to check on your friends to see if they were still alive.” He glanced toward the entrance where two men stood, their faces ashen.

  Dee’s heart leaped, and she smiled, her shoulders relaxing. They were alive, thank God. She hadn’t killed either of them.

  Danyael continued speaking. “All you want is a reason to fight. That’s all the Ravens are to you. The men you call your family are nothing but fodder for your need to kill.” Danyael turned his attention to the gang members who stared silently back at him. “Is this what you want in a leader?”

  Their eyes widened and then narrowed. As one, they slanted suspicious glances at their leader. If Dee did not know better, she would have accused Danyael of altering their emotions.

  He just did, Jessica whispered in her mind.

  The men shook their heads, each man stepping back to disassociate themselves from their disgraced leader.

  The gang leader pushed to his feet and lunged toward one of the guns lying in a pile at Jessica’s feet. Dee shrieked a warning. The man snatched up a gun, pointed it at Danyael, and fired.

  Danyael did not even flinch.

  The bullet stopped in mid-flight, an inch from his face.

  Jessica shook her head. “I can’t let you kill him. If he dies, his emotions will drive unshielded minds to suicide, and I don’t think the rest of the people here are ready to die.”

  The man’s face contorted with a snarl. “You damn mutants. You’re destroying our world.”

  Jessica snorted. “Humans have never needed help destroying the world.”

  Danyael held out a hand. “You’re not helping, Jessica. This isn’t about humans versus mutants.”

  “Of course it is,” the man snapped back at Danyael. “You think you’re so special. We wouldn’t be in this damned genetic stew if not for you mutants.”

  He’s delusional, Jessica remarked.

  Is he? Dee asked.

  Even if mutants, clones, and in vitros didn’t exist, we’d have found a way to screw up, regardless. When have humans ever not found a reason to fight?

  Dee shrugged. Usually when women are in charge.

  Jessica chortled.

  Danyael’s voice, edged with undercurrents of pain, cut off the man’s rant. “Perhaps, but none of the clones
, in vitros, or mutants asked to be here either. We were thrust, unwilling, into the conflict over genetic superiority. I was born this way, and if I could give up my mutant powers, I would, in a heartbeat.”

  “You’re a freak of nature, a lab rat!”

  “The first statement is true; the second isn’t. Clones and in vitros are designed in labs, but not mutants. I was born like this.” Danyael lowered his gaze. “At the age of two, I was abandoned by my family. I have only just been reunited with my brother, and I learned that as an infant, I drove my mother slowly insane with my uncontrolled powers until she tried to kill me. Who would ask for this, any of this?”

  Dee pressed her lips together, bracing against the sharp pang of pain in the center of her chest.

  Jessica’s mental voice whispered through Dee’s mind. I told you, I was lucky. At least my parents gave me up to the council.

  Dee wrapped her arm around Jessica’s shoulders and squeezed her lightly. The younger teenager did not appear to mind. In fact, Jessica smiled and seemed to relax, the tension easing out of her shoulders.

  Danyael continued speaking, his voice carrying easily across the silent club. “I live among you now. I treat your injuries. I deliver your children. And he—” Danyael turned to look at Dum, standing on the soundstage. “He lives among you too. He gives you music that inspires celebration and dance. We’re not asking for special favors. We just want to be left alone to do what we do for you.”

  Dee glanced around the dimly lit room. Hardened, street-smart gang members blinked furiously and swallowed hard. She concealed a smile. Danyael’s good.

  Very good, Jessica agreed. And he’s not even extending his empathic powers, not too much anyway.

  “I need space to work,” Danyael said. “Clear out this corner booth.”

  Gang members obeyed with alacrity and then waited as Danyael prioritized the injured based on the severity of their wounds.

  Dee’s jaw dropped. Is he going to treat their injuries? He’s exhausted.

  Who’s going to do it, if not him? Besides, he’s securing their loyalty. The Ravens won’t go after you and Dum now that he has clearly come to your protection, and then won their gratitude by healing their injuries. They won’t cross him. Not anymore.