CHAPTER NINE
Miriya raced past the unconscious people sprawled across the foyer. She could still sense their presence, which meant they were not dead. The council, it appeared, possessed restraint.
Nevertheless, the foyer and ballroom was a madhouse of screams and stampedes. Some guests raced for the exits, pushing and clawing through each other to reach the doors. Others refused to run, and they were locked in combat with the enforcers, who wore crimson-trimmed black uniforms.
Miriya ducked to avoid a side table telekinetically hurled across the room. At least no one had picked up the grand piano yet.
In that moment, the musical instrument turned into a 550-pound missile. It flew across the room and slammed into the door leading into the dining room, sealing it off with a thundering crash of jangled chords
Charles grabbed her hand. “Over there!”
On the far side of the ballroom, Scott Devereaux leaned protectively over his grandmother. Her eyebrows drew together in an annoyed line. She wore a faint, disapproving frown on her face as she surveyed the chaos. Miriya knew that type of frown. If she had seen it on her own grandmother’s face, she would have started running for cover.
“And look! Lionel!”
Miriya glanced in the direction where Charles pointed. On the other side of the room, Lionel Devereaux pressed against the wall. He seemed oblivious to the fight that swarmed around him. His eyes locked on his grandmother and his brother.
Miriya pushed through the crowd, ducking under carelessly swung fists. Apparently, mutants were not averse to throwing in a physical punch or two to supplement the psychic damage they unleashed. She was several feet from Lionel when his expression grew taut and his dark eyes flashed.
Across the room, Scott screamed and reeled to his knees, his hands pressed against his head.
Miriya launched herself at Lionel.
He stumbled back and brought his hands up to protect his face from her. His eyes widened. “You!”
“You bastard. You ruined my dress!” Her pointed fingernails swiped out like talons, leaving bloody scratches down the side of his neck.
His eyes betrayed his stunned confusion.
In that exact second, her mind lashed out. Her telepathic powers sharpened and plunged forward like a stake through Lionel’s mind. It smashed against his psychic shields. Miriya felt them quivered from the impact. A sliver, no more than a shard, broke away; a miniscule crack in Lionel’s otherwise solid psychic defenses.
He drew in a deep breath and smirked at her. “Not good enough. You’re out of your league. Go back to school before you attempt to play with the big boys.”
“She’s protected by the big boys.” Charles threw his fist at Lionel’s jaw.
Lionel’s head snapped back, and he staggered against the wall. He pressed a hand against the side of his mouth and stared at Charles, surprised that a mere human had dared to attack him.
Miriya glanced across the room. Scott was trying to push to his feet, but the mask of agony on his face confirmed that Lionel had not broken off his assault on his brother’s mind. The brawl drew dangerously close to Madame Devereaux. Scott, his teeth bared in a grimace, flung out his arm, hurling the two brawling men to the ground.
A telekinetic. Scott could protect his grandmother, but not if he was simultaneously fighting off a telepathic attack from his brother.
Miriya turned back to Charles and Lionel, locked in a fistfight. Charles could possibly win a physical fight, but not if Lionel used his telepathic powers.
She sucked in a deep breath. Careful now. Her mind glided over Lionel’s, her touch feather-soft as she traced the surface of his psychic shields for the miniscule crack she had inflicted.
Found it.
An imperfection, however tiny, represented a weakness in the overall structure.
She closed her eyes to better focus on the mental image in her mind. The tip of a wedge positioned over the crack. The full force of her psychic ability took on the shape of a massive hammer, bearing down upon the wedge.
She threw herself into the psychic attack.
A thunderous smash rattled her skull and flung her backward.
A cry of wrenching pain tore from Lionel’s throat. He collapsed beneath the punishing assault of Charles’s fists and curled into a fetal ball.
Across the room, Scott straightened, relief in his eyes.
Not quite done. Unless Lionel was actually unconscious, he was not out of the fight.
Her telepathic power reached out once more, gently this time, drawing a curtain of darkness over Lionel’s senses. His exhausted, overstimulated mind sank into unconsciousness.
Charles returned to her side and tugged her away from another fighting pair as they slugged their way across the room, their fight as much psychic as it was physical. “There’s got to be a way to end this. Who’s the enforcer in charge here?”
“I don’t know.” Miriya scanned the room. Faces blurred. “They’re all shielded. I can’t read their thoughts.”
“Then use your eyes, for God’s sake.” Charles’s head swiveled as he too searched the room. “That enforcer over there is standing back, watching. Could it be him?”
Miriya glanced at the man Charles identified. He was tall and thin, wearing a black enforcer uniform, a man with a shock of brown hair and a cocky grin.
A familiar man.
Her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat stuttered. “Jake Hansen?” You’re alive!
He grinned. The damned man had the audacity to grin at her.
Miriya strode across the room, threw her arms around his neck to hug him tightly, and then stepped back and flung the palm of her hand at his cheek.
She saw from his eyes that he could have stopped the slap, physically or with his telekinetic powers.
They both knew, however, that he deserved it.
“You stupid bastard.”
Jake waved his hand. The air around them shimmered. Suddenly, the sound of the brawl subsided, as if someone had turned down the volume.
Miriya jerked to a stop. No way. Jake could not possibly have—
She reached out, her fingers gliding along the smooth surface of the telekinetic bubble that enclosed Jake and her.
Yes, he had. What was he thinking?
On the other side of the invisible wall, Charles glared at Jake. He wore a look of disgust, and his lips moved, shaping the words, “What the hell?”
Miriya kicked at the telekinetic wall, but only managed to stub her toe. “Let me out.”
Jake folded his arms across his chest. “Not until I’m sure you’re going to hear what I have to say.”
“Fine.” She spun around and glared at him. “Why did you let me think you were dead?”
“Because some traps have to be sprung, as opposed to defused. I’ve got two people on Madame Devereaux. We’re not going to let her get hurt.”
Miriya noticed, for the first time, the two enforcers standing close to Madame Devereaux and her grandson, Scott. “I don’t get it.”
“People need to learn not to bait the council. A pointed lesson like this once in a blue moon is much more effective than putting down an uprising once a week.”
Miriya bared her teeth in a silent snarl. “Do you even hear yourself? The council is behaving like a tyrannical emperor.”
Jake grabbed her hand. “No, we’re not. We’re trying to keep mutants playing by the rules, the rules that make society safe for us all. I’ll tell you what’s happening out there right now, Miriya. Alex Saunders is in heated negotiations with the mayor and city council of New Orleans, arguing against mutant registration. He’s fighting for the privacy that everyone, including mutants, deserves.”
“What’s going to happen to the mutants here?”
“We’re going to sit them down, and they’ll get a lecture from Alex on the dangers of mixing alcohol and recreational drugs with alpha-level mutant powers.”
“And Lionel?”
Jake’s expression hardened. He glanced over to where Charles s
tood watch over the unconscious man. “Ah, Lionel’s a different matter. The kind thing to do would be to take him into custody. The less kind thing would be to turn him back over to his grandmother.”
From the hard glitter in Madame Devereaux’s eyes, Miriya did not doubt the truth of Jake’s statement. “What about Lionel’s coconspirator in the council?”
“He’s been dealt with.” Jake’s answer was terse. He did not elaborate. The telekinetic bubble flickered out.
Miriya looked around. Uniformed enforcers stood over the defeated revelers. Overturned tables, shattered chairs, and torn decorations littered the foyer, ballroom, and dining room. Spilled food and drink smeared across the walls and floors. The grand piano lay on its side.
Miriya picked her way across the ruins of the room to Madame Devereaux’s side. The two enforcers who would have barred her way stepped back at a gesture from Jake.
The old woman offered Miriya a gracious smile. “Thank you for your warning, child.”
“I’m sorry it did not come early enough to avert the fight.”
She shrugged. “Interrogating alpha telepaths is both tedious and time-consuming. It was easier to have definitive proof of my grandson’s ingratitude and treachery.” She smiled again. “You did well against him.”
Miriya allowed herself a faint smile. “Even mutant powers obey the laws of physics.” Among other things, she had picked up a trick or two about fighting dirty from Lionel Devereaux. Victory, nevertheless, tasted sour in her mouth.
Scott spoke up. “Thank you, Miss Templeton, for your help.” He glanced over at his still-unconscious brother. “I knew he was frustrated, but I never thought he’d actually turn against the family.”
Madame Devereaux snorted. “He always had the capacity, the heart, for it. It matters not what is in here or here.” She flicked her wrist and tapped her head to emphasize her words. “It’s what’s in here—” She pressed against her heart. “—that counts. The emotions do not lie.”
Miriya could not agree more, but not everyone was lucky enough to be an empath. Sick to the pit of her stomach and still fighting a raging headache, she turned around at the furor of activity by the entrance of the ballroom. A man in his mid-fifties and built like a football player strode into the room.
Jake’s voice spoke in her mind. Alex Saunders was a former pro-wrestler, not a football player.
Stay out of my head, Jake.
Don’t run away, Miriya, he cautioned. Alex is going to want to have a word with you after this.
About what? We won the battle, right? And I helped. The precog was right, and I’m done.
Battle? Jake chuckled. This was scarcely a skirmish. And remember, the precog said you needed to be in place by the end of the year. The battle—the one that really matters—is still in the future.
Her jaw tightened. A muscle twitched in her cheek.
What good was telepathy if it could not penetrate the veil of lies that seemed to surround everyone? In fact, the greater the psychic skill, the greater the apparent deception. Treachery was the name of the game, and backstabbing was the way the game was won.
It was bullshit…pure and utter crap. She did not need, did not want to live each hour of each day second-guessing the thoughts and motivations of the people around her, wondering how deep and how far to push to find the truth.
In most cases, the truth was hideous anyway.
If working for the council meant reaching her full potential as a telepath, she would almost rather reach lesser heights, but on her own terms and in tune with her own morality. She could grow on her own, choose when and how to exercise her mutant powers, and control her own life instead of worrying about a future battle she had no stake in and no intention of fighting.
Miriya sighed. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this.
Too late, Miriya. You’re a fast learner, and you’ve shown a real talent for this kind of work. Alex is not going to let you go easily.
Director general or not, he can’t hold a private citizen against her will. I’m not interested. Read my mind, and since you’re apparently slow on the uptake, read my lips too. I don’t want to be a part of the council.
She turned her back on Jake and walked out of the room. No one, not Jake, not Charles, and not even Alex Saunders, attempted to stop her.