Garden of Serenity (32 page)

The curved metal of the contraption fit snugly in Bresilee’s palm. Elaborately carved wooden inserts decorated the handle. A small loop with a piece of metal protruded from the round cylinder and curved up from the grip.

A boom sounded in the distance. Bresilee turned her head toward the ceiling. “The pyrotechnic display has begun. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. It will disguise the sound of your death.” She rubbed the cool metal of the small device against Jahara’s breast. “I hate to miss a celebration, but killing you will be so much more fun. Have you guessed what it is yet?”

Jahara shook her head, trying to keep the fear of death from consuming her thoughts. Something unnatural had snapped in Bresilee. Her eyes held the glazed look of a trauma victim.

“It’s called a gun.” The words came out on a seductive whisper. “A weapon used by the ancients.” Bresilee pointed the relic at the guard and squeezed the small metal hook. The noise was deafening as it bounced around the room. Jahara saw only the smoke rise from the weapon. It wasn’t until she heard the guard’s body crash to the floor that she cocked her head toward the door.

The woman sat motionless, her eyes staring blankly at Bresilee. Blood oozed from a gaping hole in the guard’s right shoulder.

Jahara fought the restraints. “Release me, I can heal her. She’s done nothing to you.”

Mikalyn ran breathless into the room, her gaze sweeping the scene. Without asking permission, she knelt in front of the guard. Her fingers disappeared into the hole in the shoulder. Evidently it wasn’t the first demonstration she’d seen of the gun. Pulling something from the gaping wound, she threw it to the floor, leaving it to bounce on the tiles.

“That’s a bullet.” Bresilee whispered into Jahara’s ear. “Mikalyn is getting very good at healing gun wounds.”

The white light glowed strong from Mikalyn’s palms. Jahara watched as the blood clotted and the cavernous hole healed. The guard’s eyes fluttered open, her confusion evident in the lines creasing her forehead. Outside, the booming display of fireworks continued.

“Leave us now.” Bresilee spoke over her shoulder to the guard still nursing the tender spot on her shoulder. “Mikalyn will help me with the prisoner. I don’t want any other witnesses to the healer’s death. Tell no one what you saw here tonight.”

The guard stood on wobbly legs, running from the room as fast as her feet could move.

“Untie her, Mikalyn. She won’t try anything now.” Bresilee held the gun in two hands as Mikalyn moved to the stretcher to remove the restraints. “You have seen what this little toy can do. I won’t hesitate to use it on you, Jahara. I understand the pain is quite substantial. Mikalyn has no desire to save you. We will gleefully watch as your life blood drains onto the floor.”

Jahara swung her legs over the side of the bed, rubbing feeling back into her feet and hands. “You won’t get away with this, Bresilee. I know what you’ve been doing. I’ve sent word to my Dame about your unsanctioned experiments. Even if I die, there
will
be
a full investigation.”

Bresilee’s smug expression faltered. “You lie. Your video-communicator’s offline.”

She was right of course. Jahara had tried to contact her Dame before the meeting, but the blasted thing hadn’t worked. She’d intended to have Xylice fix it tonight. But Bresilee couldn’t be sure of all those facts. They
had
rigged the cameras after all.

“Ha, you think sabotaging my communicator would keep me from telling the world about your clones?”

Bresilee’s face deepened in color by several shades. The gun shook in her hand. “Who told you?”

“Jacinta’s child.” Jahara put her feet on the floor, her confidence growing as Bresilee’s weakened. “I
am
a healer, Bresilee. Unlike you.” She spat the words out with venom. If she was going to die tonight, she would die having proven her hypothesis. Bresilee hadn’t felt the baby in her womb, because she hadn’t been gifted with the healing power.

“You know nothing,” Bresilee spat.

“Oh, but I do. You didn’t save Jacinta because you
couldn’t
. You rely on Mikalyn to heal. You have no gift. You’ve learned how to deliver babies. But you
cannot
save them.”

The gun went off, sending another shock wave of sound through the room. Both Jahara and Mikalyn ducked, but the bullet was only meant to scare.

“Shut up, you insipient woman. I have my intelligence. How else could I have risen to be leader of the Garden? And what do you know of babies? You’re not a Dame yourself.”

“I know you’ve broken all laws both legal and natural, by cloning yourself. You implanted the embryos in innocent breeders. I felt your genetic essence in Jacinta’s baby and several of the pregnant women I examined at the lake. Their infants carry your life being, not the mother’s. Do you really think you’re so much better than the rest of us that the world needs more of you?”

“That’s a lie!” With the gun still pointed at Jahara’s head, Bresilee ripped open the front of her flowing gown. “I clone myself to make a better copy.” Her hand skimmed the length of the wrinkled flesh of her burned torso. “No one could truly love this.”

Pity swept through Jahara for the woman no one had properly healed. There was no reason for her to carry those scars. Evidently they ran deeper than the ones she could see. No amount of physical healing could cure Bresilee’s emotional pain.

“I wouldn’t have these scars if it weren’t for men. They’re vile creatures. When I perfect my cloning technique women can exterminate each and every one of them from the face of the earth. Which is no more than they deserve.”

“Why would a man do that to you?”

“Because they’re heartless.” Bresilee breathed out a derisive laugh. “I lived at one of the schools when I was young until a wonderful woman came and took eight of us into her home. She told the elders at the school she wanted to be our Dame.” Bresilee’s eyes focused on a distant vision only she could see. “It was wonderful at first. She loved us and we were happy.” Her voice grew hard. “Then
they
came.”

“Who?”

“The men, you stupid woman. Aren’t you listening?” Bresilee’s gaze turned hard. “At night, when no one knew. They worked the mines in the nearby village. Dirty men with only sex on their minds. They had no desire to procreate, but they did things. We complained and begged to go back to the school, but the woman beat us and threatened our lives if we ever told.” Bresilee’s voice was hollow.

“Finally, I’d had enough. I made myself sick with herbs in my food. No man wanted me that night and that’s when I knew I’d rather die than endure a life of sexual slavery.”

A woman condemned to a life of slavery, forcing others into the same fate—how ironic
.

“Using my gift, I started a fire under the house. My talent wasn’t honed and took much effort, but when it caught, it traveled along the floorboards rapidly. I wanted to see them burn, the woman and the men. I felt bad for the girls, but it was a horrible life. They’d thank me in the next realm for saving them from a life of sexual servitude.” Her hand absently ran up her torso.

“I wanted the peace the flames promised. I felt the fires of Hades join the blaze to swallow the evil. I walked through the house that wasn’t a home and heard the crackling of the fire, pleased it was consuming everything. Everyone was busy on the second floor, even the old woman. They never knew until it was too late. The smoke became thick, blotting out even the bright light of the flames. I heard their screams of terror replace their cries of pleasure. It was too late for all of them.” Bresilee’s mouth curved in a frightening smile. “They all perished that night.”

Bresilee turned to Jahara and for the first time, she saw the gentle features of a woman, not the hardened visage of a bitter leader. Tears pooled in Bresilee’s eyes, softening the deep roads of pain. As quickly as it had come it disappeared, her features shadowed by a dark anger.

“Except me.” The words were hard, spoken through clenched teeth. “Someone came into the house and pulled me out. The idiot didn’t let me die. The young healer they found did the best she could, but she hadn’t been trained. She left … this. Ironic isn’t it? That I am ruined by my own gift?” Once more Bresilee looked down at her body.

“I told no one what I’d done. When I was healthy, I went back to the school. I told them I had the gift of healing. No one questioned because I survived. I studied the ways of the ancients and learned to heal with my intellect and cunning. The fire damaged so much. I am unable to bear offspring. I came here as an apprentice healer and look what I’ve made of myself.” She looked up, her arm sweeping the air. “The Garden is successful because of what I have done.”

“An experienced healer could have repaired the damage,” Jahara said.

“Don’t you think they tried?” Bresilee yelled. “It seems some scars are never meant to heal. Every day when I look in the mirror, I am reminded why I must continue the experiments. Human males must be destroyed. With cloning, we’ll no longer need their life essence to continue the female species. It’s the only way to keep bloodlines pure.” Her lips pursed into thin lines of hatred.

“It’s not natural,” Jahara said. “None of what you speak of is natural.”

“Nature is imperfect. What I propose is perfection personified.” Bresilee attempted to cover herself, but she’d ruined the clasps of her dress and motioned for Mikalyn to get her a set of scrubs. “You speak of a new world order and it shall come, but not as you dream. Men will
never
stand with women as equals.”

Without ever moving Jahara from the path of a bullet, Bresilee shimmied out of the dress and into the cotton tunic and breeches. “Enough of this chatter and melancholy. The fireworks will be over soon and I wish to be available for my guests.” Bresilee slipped into her usual poise as easily as she’d slipped into the clothing. “Mikalyn, I require your help driving us back to the well-check. I intend to end Jahara’s life at the Garden at the very place where it began.”

* * * *

“Xylice, it’s taking too long.”

“Bren, stop pacing. You’re making me nervous.” His sister’s fingers flew over the keyboard. “Do you have any idea how many cameras there are in the Garden? They’re all rolling twenty-four hours a day. I can’t even begin to tell you how much footage the computer’s going to have to search through. Even when I put in the time parameters, it’s going to take awhile.”

A picture of Jahara standing in front of the government building filled the wall monitor. Brenimyn’s heart nearly stopped at the image of her. She looked lost. He knew he couldn’t have saved her from that moment, but guilt knotted his gut. He hadn’t told her how things would go today. The vision his sister had shared with Brenimyn made him the scapegoat. No one had known how the Government would accomplish it, but he was here only to pave the way for the true warrior. The battle was Jahara’s to win or lose. He was never meant to stand at her side while she fought.

He slammed his fist into the wall, wishing it were Bresilee’s face. “It’s all such crap.”

“What is?” Xylice kept her focus on the screen. “My program? It really isn’t, I’ve worked hard to—”

“No, Xylice, not your program.” His voice softened. Exhaustion filled every cell in his body. “I let you talk me into trying it, didn’t I?” Brenimyn stared at the computer program drawing green lines across Jahara’s brow and down her cheeks. “I should’ve taken her from here. What in the name of Hades was I thinking? A new world order? Right now I don’t give a damn about some friggin’ revolution. I want Jahara.”

“We’ll find her, Bren.” Xylice’s fingers clicked the keys in rapid succession. One side of the monitor ran dizzyingly fast through computer footage, the other showed Jahara’s confused face imploring him to find her.

Brenimyn tore his gaze from Jahara and walked to the window, staring at the first bright colors of a pyrotechnic display lighting the dome of the Garden. Helplessness wrapped its cold arms around his chest, pressing the air from his lungs. “I should’ve told her, Xylice. But I was afraid she’d talk me out of it.” Swallowing hard, he worked to control the emotions threatening to spill out of him. “Who was I to keep things from her?” He didn’t turn around, but the persistent clicking of the computer keys stopped abruptly.

“She knew.”

“She was too trusting.”

Xylice came to stand with him at the window, her eyes fixed on the explosions sprinkling lights down on the Garden proper. It was amazing how much he could see from Xylice’s plush office on the sixth floor of the computer complex.

“Don’t kid yourself. She went into this with her eyes and heart completely open.” Xylice’s voice was soft. “I saw her conviction the day I rigged the cameras at your apartment. But that was nothing compared to the determined strength I saw in her today when I left the government building. All around her pandemonium reigned, but Jahara held her head high and walked with pride even though her mate had just been sentenced to a certain death outside these walls.” Xylice turned her head up to him. “Don’t beat yourself up, Bren. She knew what the vision asked of her and she accepted it.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

She wondered if anyone even knew she was missing. Jahara hadn’t told Attika where she was headed. Nazaret had left long before she’d run down the sidewalk. And Brenimyn might be in custody or he could be free—either way he wouldn’t know where to search for her. No one had seen the trio leave Bresilee’s lab with Jahara at gunpoint. The only person she could depend on to save her life was her. Her mind raced through several possible escape scenarios, but all of them left her with a bullet hole in her body.

What she needed to do was distract Bresilee and trust the bond she shared with Mikalyn would be enough to disarm the crazy woman pointing a gun at her head. But the automaton blindly following the director’s orders didn’t look like the healer who’d been elbow-deep in Lukiam’s blood or the same woman who’d begged Jahara to save her lover. Steering the vehicle through some underground tunnel system between Bresilee’s mansion and the hospital, Mikalyn stared mutely into the darkness. Illuminated only by the feeble headlights of the electric vehicle, her face held the slack features of someone who’d been drugged.