No Peace for the Damned (6 page)

“How often?” This from Shane. His blank face wavered when I turned to him.

“Every day.”

Marie’s tight manicure clicked on the table. She snorted. “I don’t believe you.” Images of me flashed in her mind. Pictures she’d studied from my family’s Network file. A Senate campaign event, a Kelch Inc. holiday function—prestigious occasions held on the estate where I’d been dressed up and put on display. If only they had a photo of what had taken place after the guests said their good-byes.

She continued with her jaw set. “Obviously you can get inside our heads, but you probably just made up that whole scene so we would feel sorry for you or accept you without question. It doesn’t work that way, little girl.”

Little girl. That was cute.

My power rose like an electric current under my skin. I put my drink down so I wouldn’t spill it by accident. Then my mouth twisted into an unpleasant smile. “What
you
believe really doesn’t matter, though. Does it, Marie?” Then I took another drink and peered at her over the rim of my glass. Her face darkened in rage. To be so easily dismissed, she actually started to tremble. I smiled wider.

You’re not the only bitch in the room, sweetheart
.

Jon gently waved to Marie in a “settle down” gesture. “Let’s assume for a moment that what we experienced yesterday was a real memory,” he said. She ground her teeth but sat back in a pout. “What exactly did we witness? The water changed, but what happened to it? And how did you survive?” He raked me with his gaze while he spoke. He wouldn’t find anything. I healed too completely to leave scars.

“You know,” Charles said, leaning around Marie, “if what she showed us
was
real, that could explain Kazan.”

“Oh my God,” Cordele gasped, “he’s right. All those men, with those burns all over their bodies. We couldn’t find a cause.”

Charles continued, “What was it, two days later that the Kazan State Technical University announced its exclusive agreement to collaborate with Kelch Incorporated on their aircraft technology?”

“Was there a sprinkler system,” Shane asked, “in the warehouse where the bodies were found?”

Jon’s calculating eyes remained fixed on me. “Yeah, there was a sprinkler system. No one thought to see if it’d been triggered, though.”

“We need to go back and check that.” Shane pulled out a notepad and started scribbling.

Everyone turned to me.
Where the hell was Thirteen?
Jon saw my hesitation and frowned.

“If you don’t mind,” I said, as politely as possible, “I’d like to wait for Thirteen to return before we get into all the details.”

That appeased Jon for the moment, but questions still bubbled in everyone’s thoughts.

“Who was the third man?” Theo asked before the others had a chance. His dark hair fell forward to frame his face.

“I—I’m not sure who you mean,” I stammered.
Shit!
I seriously needed to pull it together.

“In your memory,” he explained. “Who was the third man?”

“Well, there was my father, Magnus—the one with the remote, and my oldest brother, Malcolm, then my other brother, Markus, and my two uncles, Maxwell and Mallroy.”

Something sparked in Theo’s eye and he turned to Jon. “So that’s Mallroy, then.”

The back monitor beeped twice. In the distance, an SUV approached.

“What happened to us—er—to you,” Heather said quickly, “your legs…they were so…small. How…how old were you?”

The monitor gave a single beep as Banks’s pounding footsteps vibrated from the porch. Heather’s face strained. She didn’t want Thirteen to see her reaction if my answer was as horrible as she believed it would be.

I leveled my gaze to look her in the eye. “I was nine.”

The front door opened just as Heather raced past me to the small bathroom down the hall. As Thirteen and Banks entered the kitchen, the sound of Heather’s heaves broke through the stunned silence.

Apparently Chang wouldn’t be a regular part of the team anymore. Oh, he’d do research and consultation crap, but Thirteen had approved his request for a “less visible role.”

It wasn’t like I gave a shit what any of them thought of me. Still, I couldn’t deny the ache at knowing that one of them had officially requested
not
to work with me. I glanced at Theo. Then again, maybe that ache was from something else.

“So what exactly are we talking about here?” Shane asked Thirteen. “What kind of powers are we looking at?”

Thirteen turned to me. This was it—what I had agreed to from the beginning. I gulped down my whiskey and swallowed the nagging twinge of memories that threatened to resurface. With a deep inhale, I began.

“Well, while we each have the same base-level powers, our individual abilities vary. We all have the enhanced strength and speed that most supernaturals have. We each possess a level of
telepathy that allows us to speak to one another mind-to-mind. Uncle Max has the ability of aggressive telepathy, or mind manipulation, and can also perform a mindsweep. Father has telekinesis. Very powerful telekinesis. Malcolm and Markus have both abilities, but to a much lesser degree.”

“Why do your brothers have both telepathy and telekinesis when Senator Kelch and Magnus only have one or the other?” Jon asked.

“What Malcolm and Markus can do is nothing compared to Father and Uncle Max. Yeah, they can get in your head a little, or turn on the lights without touching the switch—but Uncle Max can erase your perception of reality, leave you a vegetable. Father can tear your limbs from your body without ever touching you.”

My responses were practiced, my tone removed. I’d done everything possible to distance myself from the information I was providing. No reason to make this more personal than necessary.

Unfortunately, some things were just too close. There was no distance great enough to really remove myself from the brutality behind my family’s power.

“She’s getting stronger.”

Father’s voice echoed among the rafters. My heart sank to my feet. They hadn’t used this old barn in weeks—not since their last round of experiments had gone so terribly wrong. I hadn’t meant to shake the building’s foundations or take off that guard’s head when I reversed the motion on the chain saw. But I hadn’t stopped myself when the power flew out of me either. He was right. I was getting stronger
.

Footsteps beat across the cement floor. I huddled deeper into the dark corner of the loft. If only I could turn invisible
.

“Mmm, she is healing faster than before,” Uncle Max agreed. His loafers brushed the straw along the floor. I closed my eyes and made sure my mental blocks were cement against his intrusions.
“She’ll be hitting puberty soon. I can’t wait to see what becomes of her then.” His sarcasm was thick and ignited father’s anger like a match on benzene
.

“I’ve tried everything!” Father shouted. “There is absolutely no reason for her to regenerate as she does. Majid found nothing obscure in her blood, and her DNA makeup is nearly identical to the boys.”

“Your
Doctor
Majid is a biochemist,” Uncle Max responded coolly. “His advances in chemical warfare may prove valuable when the time comes to negotiate that new plant in South America, but the pleb wouldn’t know a DNA obscurity if it sliced open his nostrils. Not a bad idea, actually, but not the point right now.”

We could always eat her. That way if she grew back, then it would be inside of us. I could use another set of arms to help with the horses.

Uncle Mallroy’s thoughts slipped through the minds of his brothers. I held back a shiver. Mallroy’s telepathy always came with a terrifying price: a glimpse inside the gray void that was his mind. And no matter how strong my mental blocks, that icy madness still brushed its way along my thoughts
.

We tried to transfuse her blood into our systems when she was younger and it failed
. Father’s impatience clipped his silent words
. It would be wasted time to try anything similar.

Uncle Max sighed, his feet still shuffling over the cement. “Your continued attempts on the girl’s life tire me.”

My chest burned from lack of oxygen, but I refused to risk the whisper that a breath might make. I could mask my power from them a while longer, but their senses were too strong. I needed to concentrate. Something had happened
.

Uncle Max’s voice was low. “What was the one contingency to your procreation, brother? The one absolute requirement behind
Mother’s allowing you to bring that whore into our home and breed our line?”

A fissure rent the air. Power brushed against my skin. I focused all my might on my concrete mental walls
.

“Control,” Uncle Max hissed. “And you cannot control your creation.”

The power turned hot, and I slammed my eyes shut tight
.

“Don’t you dare fucking mindsweep me, you son of a bitch!” Father’s voice boomed. Uncle Max’s power sizzled, and for a moment I couldn’t tell who would win out—Father’s telekinesis and physical strength or Uncle Max’s telepathic rape
.

The low growl reverberated against the walls of the barn. “I can control her,” Father snarled. “Even now the child hides in fear of me! She may be powerful, but I am more. She is neither seen nor heard by anyone unless I…”

A slam. The cracking sound of bone on cement. Then terrible monstrous gnashing. I gasped, then quickly covered my mouth, halting the breath in my throat once more
.

“But someone
did
see her!” Uncle Max thundered
.

And not just anyone
, Mallroy added smugly
. Maxie’s little press secretary, in all his painful colognes and sprays. Oh, he got a nice look at our precious Magnolia, didn’t he? Wants her in the family pictures now. Won’t that be fun?

“Then kill the bastard!” Father bellowed. “Erase his thoughts!” Then the tearing sound of flesh told me his mouth was otherwise occupied
.

“I will not!” Uncle Max growled in response. “His West Coast connections are too valuable right now, and his mind is worn from all the alterations I’ve already made. Much more and the man will be totally brain-dead. Besides, I shouldn’t have to do cleanup on this. It was your responsibility to control the child before she risked any further exposure.”

“She will be controlled!” Father roared
.

For a moment, something flickered among the three of them. Fear? It was gone too quickly to really sense. And I was too numb now to care
.

I had been spotted by an outsider. There had been a slip in their tight control. No one was supposed to know about me. Ever. That way when Father finally succeeded and I stayed dead, there wouldn’t be a need for explanations. But now…they wanted me in Uncle Max’s family pictures? I could already feel the punishments after I smiled the wrong way or did the wrong thing
.

However horrible my life had been up until this moment, I knew without a doubt that it was all about to get much, much worse
.

“And Mallroy?” Jon asked, pulling me back to the here and now. “You mentioned the telepathy you share with each other, and strength you all have, and the, er, mindclean that Senator Kelch can do…”

“Mindsweep,” I corrected as I took another drink. “Malcolm coined the term. Basically, he uses his telepathy to rip inside your head and scrape away whatever he wants, in the most painful way possible.”

Jon’s eyes narrowed. “Mindsweep, then. What special, um, abilities does your other uncle have?”

“Mallroy has the strength and speed, but his real power is in the way he can alter his appearance. He can do subtle things like change his eye color, or widen his nose, make himself taller or fatter at will. It’s totally creepy to watch, but…that’s Mallroy. Creepy comes with the package.”

I took another drink. Against my will, I envisioned the clouded, swirling madness that lived in my uncle’s mind. Nothingness, emptiness, a complete loss of humanity or control—it was the most terrifying thing I had ever experienced. More than any threat of my father’s, that was for sure. A shiver crept up my spine as I pushed the image away.

“Mallroy doesn’t leave the estate,” I explained slowly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “He is…not like other people. Not even like the rest of my family. If we were normal, he would probably be considered retarded or deformed or something. But as it is, he is simply…maintained.”

“What do you mean, ‘maintained’?” asked Jon.

I hesitated, rotating my drink between my fingers. Major family secrets were on the horizon of this conversation.

“I’m not sure how to explain.”

I spun the glass faster.

“It’s like, to be able to do the things we do, there had to be something
more
to us. Something…other.” The glass whipped around, a blur now, the whiskey rising up perilously. “That otherness is what gives us certain powers, and it’s rooted in something very much
not human
. In Mallroy’s case, the ‘otherness’ is more dominant than anything else.”

The liquid spiraled, a cyclone hovering in the center of my glass. I let it spin for a moment longer, then abruptly stopped it. The whiskey fell, splashing around my hand. I licked my fingers and took another drink.