Touching Darkness (13 page)

N
icholas cooked everyone breakfast. Amy and Lucas had been in the office when he'd come up. They emerged, looking as though they had just read a funeral announcement.

“What's wrong?” Petra asked as she poured orange juice into glasses.

Amy took them all in. “Lucas and I had our DNA tested. There was a chance we were related, and we'd ordered the test before we found out we weren't. We just got the results.”

Lucas held up the report he'd obviously printed. “There's an explanation of DNA, in simple terms. A strand of DNA is made up of building blocks, and there are only four of them: A, T, G, and C. The guy who wrote this says our samples were obviously contaminated, because they contain a fifth block. He's never seen anything like it.” His gray-blue eyes were dark with fear.

“The Booster.” Dread filled Amy's voice. “It changed our DNA.”

The sizzling bacon, the others, everything else fell away for a moment.
Changed their DNA
. Nicholas lifted his hand, turned it palm up. It looked the same as before, but now he saw it differently. By the silence, the others were absorbing this truth, too. “What the hell could change our DNA?”

Amy's eyes were wide as she shook her head. “I don't know. But it can't be good.”

“What do we do about it?” Petra asked.

Amy's shoulders stiffened. “We find Wallace and make him tell us what it is.”

Nicholas set down a large plate of scrambled eggs in the middle of the table. “Richard Wallace?”

They all jerked their heads to Nicholas, who said, “Darkwell asked me to find him.”

Amy put her hand to her throat. “Did you?”

“No. I was getting uncomfortable by then, so I pretended I'd encountered the same kind of block that protects this place.”

“You had good instincts,” Amy said. “He's the man who invented the Booster, the only one who might be able to tell us what's in it. How does Darkwell know Wallace is still alive?”

Eric shook his head. “No way can we approach him now that he's being targeted by Darkwell.”

Lucas nodded in agreement.

Amy looked crestfallen.

Eric slumped in his chair, a surly look on his face. “So back to Darkwell. We go in, get those files, and kill everybody.”

He had as much bloodlust as Nicholas had seen in Jerryl's eyes.

“And get yourself killed in the process,” Nicholas said. “You think Darkwell hasn't upped the security suspecting I'll tell you where he is?”

Eric's mouth turned up in a snarl. “Which you haven't.”

“The last time I gave you a location, a man was killed.” He looked at Lucas. “I know you didn't intend for that to happen, but it did. I need to be sure you're not going to storm the place and kill innocents.” Of course, Olivia's face flashed in his mind. “I agree we need to take out Jerryl and Darkwell. Get rid of them, and the program goes away.”

If Darkwell was killed, Olivia would lose her father. She'd be devastated.

Amy had just stuffed a forkful of eggs into her mouth, and she talked around it. “He's right. The CIA doesn't know what's going on.” She swallowed. “If they find out, they'll bury it, like they buried the first one.”

Eric set his fork down on his plate with a loud tap. “They'll find out about
us,
though. They're sure as hell not going to want us out here knowing the truth.”

Lucas said, “The only way they'll find out about us is if they look at Darkwell's files if they can even find them. They'll probably think he was nuts. Wouldn't you? Besides, they don't have the resources to investigate this kind of craziness.”

Zoe's eyes widened. “Does that mean we'd be able to return to our lives? I could go back to my tattoo shop?” Her hopeful expression crumpled. “Except I'm wanted for dealing drugs.” She looked at Nicholas. “Darkwell planted drugs in my apartment and tipped off the police. He figured they'd find me, then he'd swoop in and take me into custody. I've never even done drugs, and now everyone thinks I'm a dealer.”

Rand rubbed her back. “The people who matter don't think that.”

Amy turned to Lucas. “You can run your art gallery. I can be the Disc Angel who restores data from damaged hard drives.” She rubbed her hands together at the thought. “Petra, you can—”

“I don't want to be a Hooters waitress anymore. I want to be a massage therapist. I want to heal people the normal way.”

Eric picked up his fork. “I'm wanted for arson. Can't undo that, either.”

Arson.
Fire.
Nicholas shivered. “The police think I'm involved in some kind of drug deal gone bad, but they don't have any proof. Yet.”

Lucas sat back in his chair. “So it's agreed. We take out the enemy, no one else, unless necessary.”

“And the Offspring chick.” Eric looked at Nicholas. “Fonda, right? Didn't you say she's tight with Jerryl? And fierce?”

Nicholas reluctantly nodded. “But without Jerryl, she'll probably fade away.”

Eric rolled his eyes before settling his gaze on him. “So, what, that's going to be another restriction before you tell us where this place is?”

He met his hard gaze. “Yes.”

Petra said, “He's being chivalrous. You wouldn't know what that is, Eric, but it's a good thing. I don't think any of us likes killing people, except maybe you.”

Rand pushed his plate away. “Even killing the badasses is hard. When I shot the assassin Darkwell sent after us, it made me sick. I was taking a life. I'd do it again to save any one of us, but it tore me up.”

Zoe leaned her cheek against his arm. Just that simple gesture tugged at Nicholas. Images flashed through his mind, kissing Olivia, touching the scar on her temple. Which reminded him…

“Eric, you coldcocked a woman at the asylum when you broke in to rescue Lucas.”

He didn't look the least bit remorseful. “Yeah.”

Nicholas wanted to slam his nose for the scar he'd left on her and for his smugness. He pushed past that to something more important than caveman thinking. “She's one of those innocent people. I don't want her hurt, got it?” No way would he tell them she was Darkwell's daughter.

Eric gave him a smart-assed salute. “Yes, sir.”

“I'll check out the estate to see what kind of security he's got in place. I don't want any of you to rush in and get killed, either.”

 

After breakfast, Nicholas reclined on the couch and closed his eyes. He insisted that the lights be dimmed, ostensibly to focus. Even with people who were different, too, he wanted privacy.

He knew Jerryl could sense remote viewers, so he had to stay above the estate. He pulled out a few seconds later. “Just like I thought, he's got several guards outside now.”

Eric turned up the lights, pushed up from the sofa, and stalked into the kitchen. “Remember what Robbins told us: Darkwell is bringing in the most dangerous Offspring yet. And Jerryl's bad enough. We can't afford to delay our offensive much longer.”

Nicholas could understand Amy's comment about Eric going off half-cocked. “We're not going to accomplish anything if we get killed going in. Darkwell's expecting us. It's suicide.”

Lucas sighed. “He's right. So we wait and see.”

Petra nervously combed her fingers through her long hair. “The other night I thought I felt one of them—probably Jerryl, since he's always been able to view me easily. I didn't say anything because maybe it was nothing.”

Nicholas saw the alarm on all of their faces. They simultaneously turned to him.

“I haven't heard anything about them getting through the shield, but they didn't tell me everything.”

Petra started braiding her hair. “Cheveyo said his protection would only last so long. He said they would get stronger.”

Nicholas asked, “Who is Cheveyo exactly?”

Petra's eyes glittered. “He's an Offspring, too, and he's the one who put the protective shield over the tomb. He helps us when we need it, but he stays at a distance.”

Eric walked back into the living room with a glass of milk so cold there was a ring of ice around the edge. He leaned down into Nicholas's face. “Why don't you just tell us where he is?”

“When we're ready.” Nicholas trusted them, but only up to a point. “What if I give you Darkwell's home address?” The man had to be eliminated. At least Olivia would be spared any direct violence.

“It's a start,” Eric said.

The lights dimmed, and Nicholas sank into the ether again, picturing Darkwell's face. He sat up a minute later, shaking his head. “He's got some kind of block around him.”

Eric narrowed his eyes. “Did you really try or did you pretend like you did with Wallace?”

Nicholas tilted his head, taking Lucas's cue not to let Eric ruffle him. “I tried.”

Lucas said, “Remember, when we remote-viewed the asylum, Jerryl could bounce us out.”

“Yeah, but there wasn't a shield.”

Nicholas said, “What I felt was solid, like the shield that's over this place.”

Lucas nodded toward the computer room. “We've already looked online and couldn't find anything about the Darkwells. Their properties are probably in some kind of trust. Let's check the estate in two days. Then we'll make a plan.”

Nicholas sketched the estate's layout, and they threw some ideas around.

Zoe rubbed the back of her neck. A tattoo on the inside of her wrist speared Nicholas's attention. “What's that?” He walked closer and gestured for her to hold out her hand.

“It's our tattoo. We call it the Blue Eye.” Lucas unbuttoned his shirt to show he had one over his heart. “Zoe came up with it. She's a tattoo artist. The eye is for BLUE EYES, the original project name. The O of the eye is for Offspring, and the R in the pupil is for Rogues. We all have one.”

Nicholas turned to Zoe. “Where'd you get the idea for this?”

Her smile faded at the intensity of his question. “I dreamed it one night. I saw the eye and the slashes in the iris which I thought looked like an R. Why?”

“I've seen this before. Are you sure you haven't?”

“Not unless it was subconscious, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember it.”

He told them how Pope had approached him about searching for classified items. He'd been sworn to secrecy, but now that Pope was affiliated with the enemy, Nicholas had no compunction about sharing the information. Not that he really knew much anyway. “Three missions were to find these bracelets made from some kind of strange gray metal with what I thought were gems embedded in them. I couldn't imagine why the government cared about them.”

He shrugged. “But they were paying me, and it sounded like it was very important that he find them. One mission was to locate the wreckage of an experimental aircraft. I only found one piece, but he seemed pleased about it. He didn't ask me to find anything else, and we left.” Nicholas nodded to the tattoo on Lucas's chest. “That was on the piece of metal I found.”

No one spoke for several seconds.

Zoe rubbed the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. “Well, I sure as heck haven't seen any experimental aircraft.”

Nicholas had a strange feeling about this. He couldn't tell if it was foreboding or if they were on the edge of something big. “Pope watched me as though he expected me to say something about it. The big question is, how did Zoe come to dream it?”

Eric looked at his tattoo, his brows furrowed. “You mean we might have some government insignia on us?”

Nicholas shook his head. “I don't know, but I'm going to find out.”

 

Tuesday night Darkwell returned to the estate with Sayre Andrus and two armed men, both former prison guards. He'd beefed up security around the grounds, too, though that was mostly for the Rogues.

“Your quarters are this way.”

“Ooh,
quarters.
Sounds impressive.” Andrus's greedy gaze took in the luxurious surroundings as they walked from the kitchen to the winding staircase. Darkwell hadn't brought him in through the front entrance.

“They're in the attic.” No need to let him think he was more than a prisoner. “But I think you'll find them comfortable, considering where you've been living.”

“I'm here for four months,” he said as they walked up the stairs. “Doing whatever it is you got me doing.” He made quotes with his hands, the chains between his wrists jangling: “Top secret shit. And then you're going to work on extending my stay indefinitely.”

“Right.” But that would fall through, sadly enough. Gerard had a feeling four months would accomplish everything he needed, then he'd dump the guy back into the system. Or, if necessary, dump him permanently. He couldn't take the chance of Andrus's talking to anyone in prison about what he'd been doing.

Andrus's ankle chains had been removed. Gerard didn't think the guy would run now, if he was entertaining the thought at all. He was getting paid a lot of money in addition to relative freedom, but he wasn't getting a cent until he'd completed his work.

Andrus stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down. “Purdy place you got here. CIA must pay good.”

Before anyone could react, he'd planted his hands on the banister, slung one leg over, and slid down, letting out, “Wheeeeeeee!” One guard ran down the stairs. The other jumped over the banister and, like a cat, landed on his feet at the same time Andrus reached the bottom. Andrus didn't sprint, though. He let out a joyful holler that was cut off when the guard tackled him. Both men landed on the marble floor, and the third guard took a stance, gun aimed at the scuffle.

Except Andrus wasn't fighting. In fact, he was laughing so hard his legs had pulled up into a fetal position. He let the guard jerk him to his feet.