Part Four

Broken Moments





It was simplicity itself to enter Jacob's Memorial hospital without arousing anyone's

suspicions. Gabriel gave his warmest smile to a lady nurse, nearly causing her to swoon, and that

got him past the reception desk. Bypassing security was, if anything, easier. Dr. Clark had his

credentials on hand. Looking bored and very old, the silver haired security guard let them enter

the labyrinthian halls with barely a hint of concern. Moments later, Clark and his captor were

inside an unused lab, rapidly creating a medical miracle.

Had they been in a rush or if Gabriel had simply been in bad temper, he would have killed

the nurse and the security guard. He wouldn't have broken a sweat or shed a tear either. As

things were, it struck him as funny how easily everything was going. Clark was the consummate

scientist even working under duress. The Nazi wannabe analyzed a sample of blood, determined

the exact nature of the problem, and formulated a perfect remedy, all in the space of an hour.

Gabriel was impressed despite himself. He realized, belatedly, that Clark was just as intelligent a

man as Adam Kane. With that in mind, the ease of his impending genetic restoration making him

breathless, Gabriel decided to kill his savior quickly rather than slowly.

It would be a way of saying "thank you." Before now, the plan had been one to last for

some time and involve many varied methodologies for anguish. Smiling arrogantly, practically

glowing from the cold indifference that burned inside, Gabriel lounged on a hospital bed. He

almost felt bad about having Tiffany killed. Almost.

"Hey doc, how's it coming? I'm known for perfection, not patience."

Clark looked away from his work for just a moment. "Ironic to be in a hospital without

patience, isn't it?" He looked smug, probably expecting the joke to go over his captor's head.

He was, after all, no less arrogant. When Gabriel broke into a rich chuckle, Clark's face turned

sour. "Not long. I'm rather surprised you couldn't find a cure before now. The genetic damage

you sustained early in your mutant development isn't nearly so dire as you might have believed."

Shrugging, Gabriel lay back with his eyes closed. "Whatever. Just remember, if it doesn't

work, I'll kill you and that little monster daughter of yours."

The lie came easily. It was voiced in exactly the same way as the truth.

Clark didn't know his daughter was already dead.

Unlike Gabriel, he had little validation for his arrogance.

"Why me?" The question came out in a desperate whisper. "Why me? There are at least a

dozen other scientists and probably many dozens of possible cures. Why did you single out my

warehouse and my research? Why me?"

Again, that callous shrug. "Why not? Not like you're special. You're just another human.

You're inferior to me. Complaining doesn't do you much good." Gabriel yawned. "Besides,

without Adam and Mutant X for guards, you were easy to grab. They kept me from other

possible cures. To be honest doc, I was getting desperate. I was two steps away from trying to

clone a mutant from ancient Egypt when, two weeks ago, everything changed. Not sure exactly

what happened but, all of the sudden, I just knew the plan would fail. So I changed direction,

learned about you, and here we are."

Clark stared for a moment then went back to work. "Chatty today, aren't we?"

Rather than answering, Gabriel merely sat up and gave Clark a look. The scientist took a

while to see it, but when he did, his heart froze for one instant. There was nothing in that gaze

save an emotionless annoyance, limitless disinterest. He was nothing to the self-proclaimed god,

perhaps even less than nothing, just a nameless entity. A bug underfoot.

The cure wouldn't change that. Nothing would. To Ashlocke, every person alive was

merely a plaything to be used and discarded. That understanding brought Clark a dark certainty.

If he failed, without any hesitation, he'd be killed. Tiffany would be killed. Never before in his

life had he ever truly thought a person could make his blood run cold, but it did now.

After spending so much of his life idolizing men without souls, now that he came face to

face with one such son of the abyss, he found himself looking away. For Clark, who had easily

and happily murdered men and women for scientific gain and the betterment of "pure" humans,

the idea of his own demise proved sickening. The breadth of a moment's passage lay between

his survival or death at the enemy's hand.

"When this is finished, you will let me go?" He asked quietly.

Gabriel smiled in such a way that Clark shivered. "Of course. Why would I want to keep

you? I'll even be generous and send you to your daughter. Assuming you cure me. If you don't

make my problems go away, then I have to make you. . . go away." Fluttering his fingers to

show how easy it would be, Gabriel started lounging on the bed again.

The next half hour passed in dead silence, broken only when a group of doctors went past

the lab, chattering amongst themselves about a patient. "She's showing signs of awakening. It's

truly remarkable how her body has recovered. I'd never seen genetic damage on that scale

before and now it's almost as if nothing ever happened. Our Jane is quite a resilient woman."

"Yes Gabe, she is. I wonder what she'll be able to tell us about herself once she comes out

of the coma. I'm curious about her name especially."

"What? Don't you think Jane Doe #5 is a good and Godly name?"

Gabriel didn't hear the rest of the conversation. They were far away and he heard that last

question only because his Feral ears were so sensitive. If he'd been paying closer attention to

their words, the talk of genetic damage might have made him want to interrogate the doctors and

Jane Doe #5. As things were, Gabriel was close to falling asleep.

He started a little when Clark said "I'm finished."

"Great. Inject me." Gabriel bared his arm and quickly found his own vein. A sigh of near

ecstasy purred from his lips as the needle penetrated. Chemicals flooded into rich blood, mixing

and dispersing when they reached his heart, making him truly perfect. His eyes shut. He

breathed deeply. He could feel the medicine at work, could sense his body becoming stronger,

his genes repairing themselves. Gabriel felt his singular imperfection of mortality vanishing.

When he looked to Clark, the doctor wore a sickened expression. His lower lip trembled

with repressed hatred and sickened self-loathing. Here was a man who'd dedicated every fiber

of his being to bringing about a second holocaust, one to rival the slaughter of the past. Helping

a mutant grow strong went against every principle he subscribed to. It made him physically ill.

Gabriel didn't care. He was strong again, invincible again, and the feelings of others had

never weighed heavily on his mind. "Nice work. I feel good. Better than ever in fact. It's almost

as if I've been reborn." Eyes still unsympathetic and frozen as the devil's heart, he bowed slightly

to his savior. "I'm a man of my word. You can go."

Clark turned to leave. Behind him, Gabriel raised his hand and was about to launch a

killing energy ball when the doctor turned around. He stood silently, his face white as ash.

Surprised, and vaguely intrigued by the sudden turnaround, Gabriel held the ball. "Something

you forgot doc?" He asked quietly.

"You're going to kill me? I just saved your life." Clark shook his head slowly, his heart

thundering with revelation. "You promised to reunite me with my daughter!"

"What do you think I'm doing?"

Voice breaking with emotion, eyes suddenly turning watery, Clark clenched one fist and

pointed a finger at Gabriel. "You had her killed." It wasn't a question, but it was answered with

a disinterested and vague nod. "I cured you. You promised to let me go and you promised to

reunite me with Tiffany! You prom—!"

Before Clark could say or do anything else, without even waiting for him to finish his final

word, Gabriel heaved an orb of pure lightening. It struck its target dead center and propelled the

man back with such force that his body dented the thick hospital door. Clark's corpse seemed

almost in slow motion as it slid to the floor and lay limply in a heap. There was almost no blood.

It would be easy to clean up.

Gabriel drew close and leaned down. Though he knew the man was dead, he whispered

into his ear. "I'm a man of my word." Then he stood, quickly hid Clark's body, calmly walked

down the hall, passed the pretty nurse who glanced back the way he'd come and asked if

anything had happened she should know about, then walked outside into afternoon sunshine.

The old security guard hadn't even noticed him passing by; he was too busy snoring.

Outside he stood for a few moments, before contacting Kelly, basking in his own

resplendent magnificence. He relayed his position, she promised to be there soon. With a

contented sigh, Gabriel stretched in the warm sun and let himself marvel at how energized he felt.

Exactly two weeks ago, he'd had the premonition of failure. He'd seen no images, heard no

voices, but the feeling had been so strong he'd abandoned the promising Egyptian effort. Until

this second, he'd doubted it had been the right choice. Now, he felt strong and vital. He could

taste the power in his body growing, knew that he was unstoppable.

He'd made the right choice after all.

Fate was denied his sacred flesh.

With his new supremacy came an odd patience. He didn't like waiting but he no longer

felt rushed either. Nothing could stop him. His only flaw was gone. What fear of death he'd

had before no longer existed.

Gabriel waited for Kelly and the jet. . .

. . . and plotted vengeance on Adam and Mutant X as he did.





*************************************************************************





At the unsafe safe house, Jesse stood close by as Charlotte rapidly gathered her clothes

and other meager belongings into two suitcases. She worked methodically and silently. She

never turned to look at him. If not for the slightly coquettish look that came across her face as

she packed her underwear drawer's contents, Jesse would have sworn she didn't know he was

there. Every item she thrust into a case seemed to help her regain something of her old

composure, her old feisty strength.

Jesse wanted to say something. He could tell she was hurting, despite the walls she was

rapidly building. Her friends were dead. Unfortunately what he wanted to say and what needed

to be heard were unlikely to be the same thing. Ten thousand cliched platitudes ran through his

brain. Things like "it's okay," "you're going to be fine," and the ever popular and completely

moronic "this is all part of God's plan." Nothing he could think to say seemed worth saying.

As she walked toward a desk, Charlotte suddenly doubled over. Even before he knew he

was moving, Jesse was holding her. He rubbed her back gently as she made gasping noises, as

if unable to catch a breath. She clutched at him like a drowning woman clinging to the last

fragment of driftwood and hope.

"You're alive." He whispered reassuringly into her ear. "You're alive and you're okay.

We can deal with the rest."

She responded to those words only by holding him tighter. If not for the circumstances,

such an embrace would have been welcome. The way things were, Jesse wished that she had no

reason to hug him. He wished she was safe and sound and happy. He'd been the first person,

after Adam, who forgave her after the first time they'd met. Some people would have been glad

she suffered now, but all Jesse could think as he held her close, as the tears finally came in sharp

bursts of pain, was how much he wished the bad things had never happened.

Part of him kept trying to rationalize the whole twisted mess. The problem was that it was

all crazy. The killer Charlotte called Duncan had shot his partner after giving him free reign to

violate her. That alone was madness but Jesse kept thinking of the other mutants in the safe

house and how they'd been slaughtered when the killers could easily have just used their

subdermal governors. Hidden behind the safe house garage was a police car with two dead

officers, the men who'd come in response to Kari Morgan's desperate call for help. The killers

must have forced them to contact their headquarters and say nothing was wrong after all, false

alarm, then killed them too. He couldn't wrap his mind around the brutal savagery. It was

insane, just insane.

Her face pressed against his shoulder, Jesse couldn't hear what Charlotte suddenly

whispered. "What did you say?" He asked quietly, smoothing her hair with one hand and

holding her with the other. The steady movement of her chest and the strong beat of her heart

pulsed through Jesse's chest. He was gently rocking her from side to side, the simple rhythm

familiar from infancy, calming her. She no longer sobbed and when he spoke she met his eyes.

"I said," Charlotte had to stop and take a deep breath, "I asked if you'd please not tell

anyone about this. Me breaking down." There was something close to desperation in her voice.

Her eyes were still brimming with unshed tears, so filled with pain.

"Yeah. Sure, if that's what you want." Jesse smiled and stood, lifting her up with him.

"Why don't you sit down for a while. I can get the rest of your stuff together. The desk is the last

thing that has to be emptied, right?" Graciously attentive, he walked her to a nearby chair. As

she sat, Charlotte nodded gently. A soft smile formed on her lips.

"Thanks. For everything."

He waved away her words and began moving the last of her few belongings. A photo

album of old family photos, mostly father/daughter pictures, was plopped into one suitcase,

followed swiftly by a year's accumulation of odd little nicknacks. A few assorted political

buttons and brochures and various receipts and such followed. For someone who didn't own

much, Charlotte was something of a packrat.

Jesse next brought out three large notebooks, the last of the desk's contents. They were

very plain, typical store bought items, and he wouldn't have given them a second thought if one

hadn't fallen to the floor and opened. Kneeling down to pick it up, he saw something that froze

him in place. A number of words had been written across the page, several scratched out.

What was left he read out loud "the book of Hope by Charlotte Cooke."

"Oh!" Before Jesse could get over the shock of finding the present day version of a book

he'd been given from thirty years in the future, not to mention discovering it's author and sender

were one in the same, Charlotte had the notebook in her arms as well as its two siblings. "You

weren't supposed to see that." She said quietly, turning a bright shade of embarrassed red.

Then she sighed and seemed to deflate. "Not that it really matters right now."

She turned toward the bed and slipped the notebooks inside one suitcase then gently shut

them both. For a moment, she stood quietly, not moving. Just standing. Her head was still.

Shoulders a little slumped, muscles loose, her eyes focused downward.

Then Charlotte turned to Jesse and stared at him with such intensity that he took a step

back. It wasn't a malicious gaze nor one of sadness. Her eyes were filled with curiosity. Pure

inquisitiveness shown about her like a halo. "When I called Sanctuary, you quoted something I'd

just written. How did you know? And before I fainted, you called me 'wildcat' just like my father

used to."

She raised an eye brow. "Been spying?"

Jesse shrugged. "It's a long story and we don't have time for me to tell it to you. Eventually,

someone's going to come here. Whether it's the buddies of the men who did all of this or more

police, doesn't matter. We've got to be gone." He looked down at her suitcases, resting upon

the bed, twin witnesses to their conversation.

"Promise to tell you everything once we're back at Sanctuary. It's a very long story."

Jesse smiled and held out a hand. "Here. Let me take those."

Charlotte shook her head. "No. I've got them. They're pretty much all I've got left." A

pause and then a deep sigh. She sat down on her bed, the cases on either side of her shapely

hips. "I'm alone again." This time, the tears came easily, yet softly.

A hand on her shoulder. She looked up at Jesse. "You're not alone."

She leaned against his hand, resting her cheek then kissing his wrist. "Thanks."

"Okay to go now?" He asked. For a moment she considered his question, then she rose,

her fingers wrapped around his. "Shalimar's out in the garage. She insisted on checking out your

car. She wants to make sure there are no hidden transmitters or anything."

The faintest ghost of a smile appeared on Charlotte's face. "Is she always so paranoid?"

She asked quietly.

"Yeah. But don't let that bother you. I've told her you're one of the good guys now."

She looked at him again, such a curious stare. "Long story?" He nodded. "I want to hear

the whole thing when we get to Sanctuary. Everything, no matter what. No holding out on me."

Her dark eyes locked with Jesse's sapphires. "Promise me something?"

The question came so suddenly that Jesse could only shrug. "What?"

"My friends. . . ." Charlotte paused, turned her eyes toward the floor. "No matter what

Adam decides to do about me, I want you to promise you won't let him put me with anyone.

Those people were after me. Me specifically. I don't know why, but I can't let anyone else be

put in danger. Promise you won't let Adam put anyone else in danger."

Jesse smiled gently and hugged her. "I promise you Charlotte, we won't let you or anyone

else be hurt by those bastards again. We're going to find them and stop them. And I swear, I'll

keep you safe."

Her arms wrapped around him, she sighed and wished they were together under better

circumstances. "You really must have a story to tell."

Jesse snorted.

"You have no idea."





In the garage, Shalimar was on her back on the cool concrete floor as she checked under

Charlotte's car for tracking devices. She had to work hard to resist the urge to just go to sleep.

The feline in her didn't like the chill floor, but the human was tired and hot and just wanted a rest.

Even now, nearly an hour after it had happened, she was still having trouble believing that she

and Jesse had come to the safe house in the Double Helix to save the day.

"Now our ship is a piece of junk and Jesse's gone completely bonkers." She grumbled as

she worked, methodically examining every nook and cranny. Her hands were greasy, the scent

of oil filled her every breath. She yawned. "He's lost his mind. That's the only explanation. I

don't care what he's been reading, this is nuts."

Just before he'd gone with Charlotte to her room to pack, he'd taken Shalimar aside and

told her something strange. It hadn't made a lot of sense but she'd understood that he thought it

should. "He said something about a letter and some book. How could a letter or a book make a

man risk his life? God, Jesse, you could have died!" Shalimar wished he were there right then so

she could yell at him properly. Never before in her life had she seen him do something so

completely suicidal.

"Well, this was a waste of time." She muttered while crawling out from under the car.

"Don't know why I bothered. Even if there were some kind of tracking device, the Mutant X

daredevil would probably insist on leaving it in place. I'll bet he'd love to have to try and phase

the car while we're trying to get away." Shalimar stretched. "He's acting like he's falling in love

with that sooty haired drama queen and he's only seeing her now for the second time."

Shalimar threw her hands into the air. "Not my place. I just wonder if this day can get any

more insane."

Less than a second later, she got her answer in the form of a blow to the back of her head.

Without any warning from her Feral senses, Shalimar was almost knocked out. Weaving almost

drunkenly, she tried to spin around and fight. The second blow caught her fully in the face. Her

vision blurred and her eyes couldn't focus on whoever it was attacking. The man's appearance,

for she was sure it was a man, was too watery blurry to make out.

His third blow made her stop trying. Shalimar hit a wall and slid down it to the floor. A

small trickle of blood ran down from her lower lip. The man who'd knocked her out stepped

closer and pressed a machine to the back of her neck. A hum then a snap followed.

"You won't be causing any trouble now cat woman." The voice was rough, dark, but

controlled and cold as ice water. "I can still salvage this mission. You're a better prize than little

miss harlot Charlotte anyway."

The man laughed darkly at that and quickly took Shalimar to a waiting truck. He threw

her on as several other men got off.

"Orders sir?" One of the new people asked as he surveyed the area and kept it covered

with a machine gun.

The man with Shalimar viewed his acquisition. His expression turned to a death frost, a

murderous chill. He turned toward the new killers.

"End this."





*************************************************************************





Emma DeLauro had exactly three seconds. In that time, her entire life flashed before her

eyes, every instant flowing into every other, a full review. Something rushed past, shifting strands

of her hair. A few drifted downward, as if severed from her scalp. The side of her face flared

with pain so suddenly that her hand darted to the burning spot even as she realized what had just

happened. Her mind raced beyond light speed. She knew that a bullet had just grazed her

temple, that it had been fired by the man in front of her.

More importantly, she knew that he'd missed on purpose.

"Brennan, no!" Without hesitation, Emma struck Brennan's arms as he raised his hands

and launched an arcing stream of lightening, throwing his aim off target even as Adam shoved her

out of harm's way. All three ended up falling backwards. Brennan's expression was stunned

shock, a theme for the whole trio.

Adam was on his feet first. He started to rush the shooter but stopped.

The gunman was kneeling, his pistol lying untouched by his side, tears pouring. "Oh God,

I'm sorry Katherine. I had no choice, baby, I couldn't do it." He held himself and shook. In the

afternoon light, he seemed harmless. A broken man. There was nothing to fear from him, if there

ever truly had been.

With Adam's help, Emma got to her feet. Beside them, Brennan clumsily rose, wishing

he'd skipped his last drink. It had snuck up on him. "Why did you stop me from zapping him?"

He asked quietly. "He tried to kill you. Didn't he?" The question echoed in the empty street,

fortunately it seemed that everyone was inside. Not quite able to fathom what was happening,

Brennan just kept staring at the gunman.

"No, Brennan. He missed on purpose." Emma took a step forward, but stopped when

she felt Adam's hand on her shoulder. She turned back, saw the fear in his eyes. It could

easily have gone differently. Her racing heart and pessimistic side knew how bad the situation

almost was. "It's okay. I can sense every thought, every emotion that's pouring out of him. He's

terrified."

Reluctantly, Adam stepped back. He trusted her instincts, yet it was obvious from the

way his muscles remained tensed that he would move at the first sign of danger. She knew that

he'd gladly take the next bullet for her, that he'd die to protect her.

Emma was simultaneously touched beyond compare and terrified. The only outward sign

of her inner turmoil, a faint wavering of her mask of calm certainty. Still, she leaned down,

almost kneeling, and brought the gunman's face close to her own. "Who are you?"

"Devon Bowden. He has my wife."

"Who has your wife? What's his name?"

"Sheckt. Aaron M. Sheckt. I don't know who he is. The bastard contacted me through

another man, an ice-cold bastard named Duncan Ladd. They kidnaped my wife." Devon raised

a hand to his face to cover his eyes, either to relieve the pain in his head or out of shame. The

move made both Adam and Brennan draw closer, their stances plainly defensive. Their

concern for her brought a smile to Emma's lips.

She tried to show them Devon was, despite evidence to the contrary, harmless. She

touched his shoulder. And she reached down and took his pistol. She held it up for her

teammates to see. "They gave this to you?" At his emphatic nod, Emma passed the weapon

back to Adam.

He looked it over for a moment before handing it to Brennan. The former criminal

examined it closely, scrutinizing every detail, then shrugged and tucked it into his coat. "I've

never seen this kind of make or model."

"Ladd said it was just for me. He said I had to kill Emma DeLauro and Brennan Mulwray

when they came out of this club." Voice breaking, Devon sobbed again. "They're going to kill

Katherine now. I'm sorry baby."

"Why did Sheckt want this done?" Emma asked, her voice keeping him in the present.

"Where are they?"

"I don't know. They only took me to a warehouse out by Frost Lake. They never said

why they wanted this done. Just to do it or they'd kill her." A tremor ran through his body, as

if an earthquake was occurring inside his chest. Devon's eyes met Emma's. Images and words

flashed between them. She knew almost instantly that Aaron Sheckt had never shown his face

nor allowed this man to hear his true voice. Duncan Ladd, however, appeared in stark reality.

Behind her, Adam was activating a small comlink pin he'd recently built, a simple device

with a tracker built in, gold plated, with the letters M and X in intaglio print. "Jesse, Shalimar,

this is Adam. We've got a situation. How fast can the Helix be ready for a flight to Frost Lake?"

There was no reply. Static and a high-pitched whine filled the air. "Jesse? Shalimar? Do

you read me?" Still nothing. Adam adjusted nearly invisible switches on the back of the pin,

boosting its gain and rotating through frequencies in search of a better connection. "Can anyone

hear me?" After several minutes, he gave up.

"Nothing. It's possible we're being jammed."

"Ashlocke?" Brennan asked, a worried timber in his voice. Memories of Shalimar's

capture, of Gabriel's icy arrogance, and of the recent battle against his Links just this morning

rushed through his head. Fear for his friends made his heart pound even faster than before.

Adam frowned. "Unlikely. I doubt he's got anyone on his team with the skills. We can't

rule him out right now, but my guess is this Sheckt character. Obviously, he's been watching us

for a while. He knew the three of us were in this club."

Looking up, Emma brushed a loose strand of hair from her eye. "I don't sense anyone

nearby that might be a threat. If he's watching, it's with something high-tech."

"Right. We've got to assume the bastard knows we're still alive. Emma, you and I are

going to Frost Lake. Brennan, I want you to take Devon back to Sanctuary and—." Before

Adam could finish, Emma was on her feet and staring at him. An argument passed between

them, one made with eyes, thoughts, and emotions.

After a moment, he sighed deeply. "Alright Emma. You're right."

"You know it's the smart thing to do." She replied, reaching out to touch the side of his

face comfortingly. "Don't be mad."

"Never."

Brennan gave them both a curious look and raised an eyebrow. "Um, not to sound like a

guy who's completely lost in the woods, but what the heck are you two talking about? Seriously,

what are we doing here? One second, this guy's trying to kill Emma, then we're feeling sorry for

him, then our comlinks are jammed, and now Adam's got a plan but. . . . Well? What are you

two talking about?" He shook his head, rubbing his temples. "This day is giving me a migraine."

Smiling apologetically, Emma said "you and Adam are going to Frost Lake. He didn't

want me to be alone with Devon, but I'm certain he's safe. Crazy as that sounds, I know he's on

our side. Now, I'm going to take him back to Sanctuary and try to help him remember anything

that might help the two of you once you reach Frost Lake. Plus, I can take a whack at trying to

get the comlinks back online. Jesse's been showing me how they work." She smiled, and

nodded toward Adam.

Although it was obvious from the way his eyes strayed to Devon, then the slight bulge in

Brennan's coat where his pistol waited, that Adam was less than certain about leaving Emma

with the man, he knew every word she's said was true. Everything that had passed between

them in that exchange was true.

He could go back to Sanctuary, but past fixing the comlinks, he'd be useless. Normally,

his place was there, coordinating things. In this case, he knew nothing that might help. By all

appearances, Aaron Sheckt was a complete unknown, a new enemy. Devon might know

something, but Adam couldn't help him remember. Brennan wasn't qualified to fix the comlinks

or to interrogate Devon. He was an obvious choice for the field, given his electrical powers.

Emma's telempathic gifts would allow her to sort through her almost assassin's mind and she

might be able to get the comlinks working. Despite the obvious merits of sending her to

Sanctuary, Adam was afraid to leave her alone with Devon.

For obvious reasons, he didn't trust the man.

He did trust Emma, though, and that was ultimately why he nodded finally.

"Brennan, much as I hate to ask you to regress after you've come so far as a part of

Mutant X, can you hot-wire a car? Emma can take our's back to Sanctuary, but we'll need one

to get to Frost Lake." Her hand held his for a moment, a gentle squeeze to reassure him.

Suddenly, Devon rose from the ground. He almost got his throat crushed by Adam, who

immediately moved to protect Emma and attack him. Before anyone could do anything

damaging, the dark man stepped back, holding his hands high in a gesture of surrender. "Whoa,

careful. I don't want to hurt anyone."

"Could have fooled me." Brennan murmured, so softly that no one heard.

Moving very slowly, Devon reached into his pocket and withdrew a set of keys on a flimsy

metal ring. "Sheckt gave me a car. You can use it. They wouldn't expect anyone else to use it."

There was a sort of quiet desperation in the man's voice. It made his words harsh, his tone

shaky. "They can't know I failed. They've got to think I succeeded."

No one spoke. According to Devon, if he failed, his wife was dead. He couldn't allow

himself to believe Sheckt knew what had just occurred.

Adam hoped he was right.

Without waiting, Brennan took the offered keys. "Thanks. Now, go wait in the car. We

need to talk for a minute." Even if he'd wanted to stay, Devon wouldn't have argued with

Brennan. Something in the man's eyes said that this wasn't a man to cross. Not today.

Still trembling, the almost assassin climbed into the Mutant X car, momentarily admiring

it. He shared Brennan's taste for vintage vehicles, but even that didn't distract him long.

Once he was out of earshot, Brennan reached inside his coat and drew out the silenced

pistol. "Emma, take this. I know you think this guy is on the level, but I'm not so sure. I've got

a feeling he's not sharing everything with us." A quick glance toward their car showed that the

man was sitting motionless in the front passenger seat, perhaps crying. Turning back to Emma,

he continued, "maybe I'm just being paranoid, but I've gotten it right before. Watch him." With

those parting words, Brennan headed for Devon's car, keys jangling in hand.

Emma hesitated only a moment before slipping the pistol into her clothes, hiding it from

sight. "I'm not sure if that gesture was sweet or just creepy."

Adam smiled, though he felt a sense of unease in the air. Stepping close, he wrapped his

arms around her and was hugged back easily. The embrace made them both breathless as their

hearts beat in time. His fingertips sifted through her hair as her's drifted gently over the muscles

of his shoulders. A sigh of contentment passed between them.

"Be careful." She whispered into his ear before letting go.

He ran his hand through her hair a final time, then kissed the very tip of her nose. It made

her giggle. "You too."

Then they separated. Adam turned and ran to Brennan, who had just started revving the

engine of Devon's car. She, in turn, opened the driver's door of the Mutant X car and quickly

started it with an easy turn of the key. Emma watched in the rearview mirror as Adam and

Brennan started on their journey to Frost Lake, knowing that her consort, the man she loved

more than life itself, was watching her as well. Long before she left the club's parking lot, a

feeling of uncertainty settled inside.

A strong, instinctive nervousness made her heart beat faster, her breath go shallow, and

her mind surge with unwanted worries. The man sitting close by, eyes focused downward, hands

in lap, wasn't the source. Within her thoughts, near her mind's very edge, rested a truth she

resisted considering. She wanted to know what she was feeling, wanted to put it into words, but

at the same time, Emma was desperate not to know.

Yet, as she drove toward Sanctuary, her Psionic talents keeping Devon unconscious for

the trip, Emma reached an inescapable conclusion. One single thought reverberated inside her

skull. It rattled about then exploded into the center of her mind.

The source of her unease, slithering cold and alien inside her brain, was the certainty that

she and Adam were somehow responsible for what was occurring. Though she had no reason

to think that, her instincts told her it was the truth. As Emma drew ever closer to Sanctuary, she

felt the weight of an apocalyptic future weighing down on her soul.

"This is the price for coming back together," she whispered to herself. A glance in the

rearview mirror showed her the city. Her memories showed what it could become, thirty years

forward and millions of lives from now. Though the rational side of her mind rose in protest, the

certainty that she and Adam were somehow to blame didn't go away.

Somehow, she knew that fate was trying to reassert the darkness. The future that had

been, might still come to pass.

It wasn't fear that plagued her.

It was guilt.





*************************************************************************





At Jacob's Memorial hospital, Gabriel Ashlocke waited on the helicopter landing pad

next to the parking lot. The jet his people had acquired recently, and that Kelly had been taught

to fly, hovered over head, its VTOL systems bringing it to a gentle landing. Almost like the

choppers the pad had been intended for. A door opened and Gabriel climbed inside,

immediately feeling a pleasurable sensation as air-conditioned coolness spilled over his face.

"Where to now? Back to the base?" Kelly asked from the pilot's seat. In her voice was

the sycophantic obedience and eagerness that characterized all of Gabriel's followers.

He considered a moment. Where to go? He was perfect again, invincible. Mutant X

would have to be destroyed eventually, but was it necessary to attack them now? Gabriel didn't

feel like fighting a battle. Not even one he could finally win.

His lips curved into a pleasant smile. "Back to base. Now that I'm cured, I want everyone

to see. I want all of my people to feel the blissful certainty of our coming victories. They deserve

that much."

Kelly nodded and closed the side door with a series of keystrokes. Then she manipulated

levers and switches, pulled back on her controls, and the jet rose easily into the air. So effortless

was the ascent, that Gabriel did not once lose his footing nor even sway. As his blonde

pyromaniac lover piloted, he took a seat in the luscious surroundings of the passenger

compartment.

"Tiffany's dead?" He asked calmly.

"Torched."

A chuckle.

They might have been discussing the score of a recent baseball game. Or perhaps some

local political squabble.

"You know, I almost felt bad about killing Clark." Gabriel said quietly, leaning back in a

lounge that had been installed just for him. Long brown hair dangling on all sides, eyes sealed,

he stretched. So calm, so disinterested with the world. "Almost. That man might have been

dreaming of a new Reich, but he knew what he was doing. I feel great."

Setting the autopilot, Kelly glanced back. "His psycho spawn tried to kill me. No need to

feel any regret over her."

Another chuckle.

"Glad you're okay." Ashlocke said before yawning again. "What's the in-flight movie?

Or maybe there's food, because I'm very hungry." His leering gaze fell upon Kelly as she slid

between the pilot's and copilot's chairs to enter the back, her shapely body and long legs.

"Hungry for a lot of things."

She smiled. "We can take care of that. But I'd like to ask a question first."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed just a fraction of a millimeter. The impulse to kill very nearly

overpowered him, but it was repressed finally. It was a childish rage that came and went in an

instant. Still, that instant nearly cost Kelly her life.

He often wondered if anyone realized how easy it was for him to kill. Almost like breathing

sometimes or perhaps sneezing, since the act was fueled by sudden impulse.

"What's your question?" He asked finally, patting his lap.

Before speaking, Kelly sat upon him, and shivered with desire. His hands were on her,

increasing the heat between them. "What about Clark's wife, the one working for Trinity Inc.?

Shouldn't we take care of her too?"

The coldest smile formed on Gabriel's face. "Nah. She's not important. I've been cured.

I've got no further need for scientists."

He sat up and kissed Kelly. "But I do have a need for a certain young woman." The

breathy whisper took her breath away, just as Gabriel wanted. She did everything he wanted.

That was why she existed, to serve him.

While he was enjoying a few of Kelly's services, Gabriel's mind drifted back to the

hospital, to the conversation he'd overheard. Jane Doe #5. A woman recovering from severe

genetic damage. "Awakening," the doctors had said. The mystery intrigued him only for a few

seconds, but in that time, he felt a strange anxiousness.

Gabriel wondered why he should be afraid of a woman he didn't know.

He didn't know that by the end of the day, when the sun set and the darkness crept back

to claim the world, everyone on Earth's fate would be decided. Not even this false god could

sense that thirty years of suffering might be at hand, that millions upon millions of deaths might

soon come. Nor could he feel that the name Jane Doe #5 was a harbinger for slaughter.

Of course, Gabriel wouldn't have cared if he had known.

He was too busy enjoying the pleasures of his favorite harem girl.





*************************************************************************





Perfect silence dominated the downstairs area as Jesse descended. It was a peculiar

quiescence, filled with an unpalatable foreboding. Shadows stretched long and nested in corners

like packs of black furred rats. Half the lights had been destroyed in the massacre, the other half

lay on the floor or under bits of furniture. Nerves already tense, Jesse felt himself going into a

fighter's defensive half-crouch as he moved. Unease crept into his battle weary mind.

Behind him, Charlotte also felt that something wasn't quite right. What training she had

kicked in. Though far from the capable fighter, she raised her hands, ready to block or punch.

Muscles twitched under her clothes. A frightened yet determined gleam was in her eyes.

Gesturing silently, Jesse motioned for her to wait at the foot of the stairs. She nodded back,

slightly bending at the waist to present less of a target.

The silence was too complete. It felt. . . hostile.

Jesse took a deep breath and phased out, his body seeming to become translucent. With

practiced ease, he moved through the nearest wall, actually leaving the safe house. He let his

eyes sweep through his entire field of vision. Late afternoon sun glared down from heaven. A

breeze bent several trees just enough to be noticeable. Everything seemed as serene as an

Andrew Wyeth painting. Jesse felt some of the emotional tension flow out him. Without

warning, a mere second before he would have taken a breath, and thus solidified, someone

shouted and three men leapt from cover, raising formidable weapons.

Diving backward, he opened his mouth, breathed, then knocked Charlotte to the floor a

hair's breadth before automatic weapon's fire stitched across the wall. "Stay down! Don't

move!" He yelled unnecessarily.

The bullets raced by overhead, making a sound that might have been equaled only by a

bee that had developed supersonic flight capability. Above them, the wall disintegrated,

shredded by death. Harsh thuds and strident clanks indicated hits on simple boards and metal

supports. Jesse thought he heard a few soft thumps that might have been over stuffed furniture

dying in the next room. No matter the mark, it was quite some time before the weapons fell

silent.

Jesse yanked Charlotte to her feet. "While they're reloading, we've got to move!" They

started running together. She took the lead since she knew her way around better and had

almost reached the front door when a man appeared in the open frame.

Even as the killer raised his weapon, something that looked like a rifle that had shrunk in

the laundry, she was attacking. Charlotte drove a fist into his face and shoved his gun away.

Despite the facial blow, the man held his ground and counterattacked. She barely dodged under

his punch. He fought with a professional's precise movements, striking repeatedly, but an

opening let her give him a stomachache with a well placed fist. He retreated, only to raise his

weapon again. At point-blank range, he opened fire. A fraction of a second faster, Charlotte

dove to the side and nearly dislocated her shoulder as she struck a wall and hit the floor.

Massing out kept Jesse alive. Bullets slammed into his nearly impervious chest and fell to

the ground, harmless as ball bearings.

Realizing he was shooting the wrong mutant, the killer started to draw a bead on Charlotte

but a kick to the groin made him forget how his gun worked. Not to mention everything else.

He groaned hoarsely and doubled over, hands covering the injured vulnerable spot. Another

kick, delivered to his skull, sent him reeling.

"You okay?" Jesse asked, kneeling at her side.

"Yeah, still standing." She glanced toward the open door, knowing that it would be

suicide to try a run for freedom. There were still gunmen out there. "How are we going to get

out of here?"

"Divide and conquer." Retrieving the killer's rifle, Jesse held it out to Charlotte. "Take

this. I'm going to try and circle around, get in their flank." A smile formed on his lips, the kind

that only comes just before doing something completely insane. "Listen to me, General Jesse."

Charlotte shook her head emphatically. "Do I look like Rambo? I don't know the first

thing about guns! I've never even been taught self-defense!"

"Crash course. Aim and shoot." Jesse kept his eyes on the doorway. "Listen, I don't

need you to be sniper woman. Just make them keep their heads down long enough for me to

take them out. Keep me safe. I trust you." He squeezed her shoulder and, in that moment, both

knew that it was going to be okay. They were going to survive. It wasn't too crazy a plan.

Jesse closed his eyes, breathed deep, phasing out once more. At his partner's nod, he

dove through the wall, drawing air immediately on the other side and running. A hailstorm of

lead followed immediately, but it was answered by the harsh hacking snarl of individual reports.

He was lucky. Their attackers had been surprised by Charlotte's cover fire. Without hesitation,

they'd turned to fight her, seemingly forgetting about him. Legs pounding, he curved toward

them, approaching their line from the side and slightly behind.

Too late, the killers remembered a certain blonde haired, baby-blue-eyed mutant. One of

the men had enough time to bring his rifle to bear before taking a fist to the face. The weapon

snarled cruelly, sending a stream of bullets out that came so close, they ripped his shirt.

A few seconds later, his lady commando rejoined him. "That was almost too easy." She

said, which earned her a rather stunned stare. "Kidding."

Shaking his head, Jesse started searching one of their attackers. Then he stopped and

turned to Charlotte, who was still holding her captured rifle, cradling it much like a mother with

child. "Hey, why don't you use your toxin on them? It'll be a hell of lot easier to interrogate

them if they're suddenly on our side."

A darkness came onto her face. "You're thinking of the old Charlotte Cooke, the one

willing to deal with the devil for a chance at revenge. I'm not like that anymore. I don't have that

right, I'm not God. Playing with people's souls, Jesse, it gets to you. Believe me." For a long

moment, she was silent as she leaned down to check one of the assassin's pockets. Before the

silence grew too uneasy, Charlotte let out a sigh and said, "what happened with Adam taught me

a lesson. Can't be that person again, no way." As those words left her mouth, she withdrew a

slip of paper, half crumpled but completely readable.

"Besides. Why do all that work when we've got everything we need right here."

Jesse took the note and examined it. He read quickly, his gaze going to Charlotte's after

just a few seconds. "I know where this is. It's an address for a motel off the highway. We can

be there in five minutes if they didn't trash your car."

"Then lets get moving. These guys aren't going to stay down forever."

She left the rifle behind and headed back into the safe house to gather her suitcases,

discarded earlier. Jesse opened the garage and made a quick cursory exam of Charlotte's car.

No bullets had punctured it, no bombs had been attached, and he couldn't find a single tracking

device. The men hadn't expected to fail.

Just as he slammed down the hood, his partner returned. "You said you know where the

bad guys went?" She asked as she threw her things into the trunk.

"Yeah. Land's Inn motel. I've been there before."

A softly flirtatious and genuine smile formed on her face. "I'm jealous." Before Jesse

could respond, or manage to stop blushing, she was in the passenger seat. She twisted the keys

in the ignition as he climbed in. "A benefit of having a used and customized car: its starts the

instant I turn the key. Plus, this baby can fly." She shifted gear before Jesse could even reach for

the stick between them.

The engine roared to life when he hit the gas. Leaping backwards like a pouncing cougar,

Charlotte's car surged with power. It took Jesse a second or two to adjust himself to it. When

he was ready, he slammed the gas pedal to the floor, set his sights on Land's Inn, and found

himself loving the feel of speed even as he worried about Shalimar.

In less than half the time he'd expected, they were arriving. "The Helix couldn't have

done better." He muttered, surprised and pleased.

Charlotte said something under her breath that might have been "especially now that its

junk," but Jesse preferred to think it was "at last we're having some luck." Regardless of her

choice of words, the raven haired woman had an expression on her face that could only be

worry. And fatigue. She looked extremely tired. Her day had gone from one extreme to the

next; she'd faced hell.

It surprised Jesse how resilient she was. When he and Shalimar had first arrived, she'd

been near a meltdown. She'd fainted. Now, having recovered from the shock of finding her

friends dead and coming dangerously close to being raped, Charlotte seemed to have tapped a

reserve of strength. Her movements were amateurish, she was probably subconsciously copying

things she'd seen in a movie, but she was ready to fight. No one who saw her eyes, filled with

sadness and anger but most of all determination, could doubt that.

Keeping close to her, Jesse couldn't help but smile. She reminded him of Emma back

when she'd first joined Mutant X.

He wondered if. . . no, Adam wouldn't agree to that.

Would he?

From inside a room, number 7 to be precise, Jesse heard a woman's muffled scream. He

didn't know for sure if it was Shalimar, he's ears weren't that good. The only thing that

mattered was that she was in trouble.

Gesturing for Charlotte to stay back, Jesse ran to the door and hit it with all his strength.

The wood was almost paper thin and extremely fragile. It exploded inward, a shower of

splinters blasting out from the suddenly dislocated hinges. He cracked his elbow on the heavy

metal lock that was still firmly in place, absurdly hovering where the knob had been.

There were two men in the room and one woman, face down on the bed, with long blonde

hair. One was strangling her. Jesse went for that man, a single punch taking most of the fight

out of him.

The other man tried to go for a gun, which he'd left lying on a graffiti carved night stand.

Seconds before his fingers could touch the handle, Charlotte was hitting him in the back. He

spun around and ducked another punch. She danced back a few steps as he tried a sweeping

uppercut. Unfortunately, that wasn't all he was doing. Moving with an almost feline grace, the

man ducked down and spun, delivering a powerful back kick that sent Charlotte flying.

A mirror shattered as she slammed into it. Her breath was knocked out, her head swam,

and warmth slid down the back of her neck. The glass had cut into scalp.

The man came straight for her. He jumped and performed a midair somersault when she

tried to sweep his feet out from under him. Charlotte got kicked in the face as she tried to roll

away from the fight.

"You're mine, gene joke." The man hissed as he took hold of her head and prepared to

snap her neck.

Charlotte had just enough time to wish she'd had more time before a sickening SNAP

filled the room. Then everything was still. Then a body hit the floor and lay lifeless.

"You okay?" Jesse asked quietly.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, turned.

The man who had been about to kill her lay on the floor, his head slightly askew. Charlotte

looked at the corpse then stared up at Jesse. "You saved my life again. Thanks." She let him

help her up, his arms pulling her close to him.. So close.

A very faint trace of a smile touched his face. "You're welcome. Can you check on her?"

He asked, pointing toward the woman on the bed, who still lay face down.

Unquestioning, she approached and rolled her over. "It's not Shalimar." She said,

disappointedly. "She's a little unconscious too." Charlotte checked the woman over, pulse and

breathing, then sighed with relief. "Aside from some nasty bruises around her neck, I think she'll

be okay. Pulse feels good. She's breathing fine."

At that moment, the woman's eyes shot open. She scrambled backwards on the bed,

tucked her legs to her chest, and tried to hide her face against her knees. Visibly trembling, she

started speaking very fast. "Don't hurt me anymore, please, don't hurt me."

"It's okay," they said at the same time, "we're friends."

The woman looked up very slowly. Her eyes were red from crying. Carefully, they

studied first one of her rescuers, then the other. At last, they settled on the men who'd been

holding her captive. One dead and one unconscious.

Jesse smiled as best he could. "You're safe now."

"What's your name?" Charlotte asked, then on the heels of that question, "did you see or

hear anything about a woman named Shalimar?"

Choking down air, the woman pointed toward the dead bad guy. "That one, he said they

were taking a woman to their base. I. . ." the woman had to pause to catch her breath, "I think

he called her Shalimar. I didn't hear an address. But you've got to help her. That monster has

her."

"We will, don't worry. She's our friend. First we're going to get you someplace safe.

What's your name?" Jesse asked, his blood running cold at her choice of words. 'The monster

has her,' he thought as adrenaline pumped through his body, 'that sounds as far from good as

you can go.'

The woman looked from Charlotte to Jesse then back. Her expression was one of

absolute seriousness. "My name is Katherine Bowden. Please, you've got to help that woman."

She took a deep breath, then said emphatically, "that monster has her! Duncan Ladd has her!"





*************************************************************************





"This is your home?" Devon Bowden asked for the third time since Emma had let him

regain consciousness. His hands were spread to encompass all of Sanctuary. A gleam of

childlike awe in his eyes, a remarkably handsome smile on his lips, he seemed a completely

different person now that he wasn't feeling obligated to kill anyone. Though desperately worried

about his wife Katherine, the man's amazement was too powerful to ignore.

A feeling of pride filled Emma as she walked toward the communications computer. It

was nice being able to brag about Adam's accomplishment. Sanctuary deserved to be admired.

The team took it for granted far too often.

"Yes. This is home. Adam named it Sanctuary." She glanced back at him, wanting to

make sure he was following. "Ever since I joined Mutant X, this is where I've lived."

"It's astounding."

Her smile grew. "So's the man who designed it."

At first glance, the computer looked fine. Emma tapped at the controls and was rewarded

by a diagnostic screen which said that everything was fine. If her comlink worked, she would

have felt perfectly comfortable believing the machine. Under the current circumstances, a second

opinion was needed. Namely her own.

Feeling around beside the machine, she found a box of high-tech tools and a few

replacement circuits. "With any luck, the problem will be simple and easy to solve." She started

removing holding bolts and screws, loosening a heavy metal panel. Soon, the cover rested

against one wall, revealing a dark corridor that was barely large enough to climb into.

Emma entered, flashlight and tool kit in hand. Thick wire vines hung down and snaked

across the floor. Dozens of encyclopedia sized circuits hummed with electric life. Thousands of

larger machines were wired together all around her.

"Of course, luck seems to be on vacation lately. First a future ruled by Eckhart, now this

mess. If it weren't for Adam, I'd have gone crazy ages ago." Emma muttered to herself as she

searched for any sign of malfunction in the communications computer. It seemed hopeless, since

the machine was enormous and a short could be minuscule, but she stayed at it for a while,

steadily ruling out possibilities.

Outside the machine, Devon waited. He sat at a desk and thought about the decisions

he'd made recently. How had he come so close to taking another's life? Despite training in

detection and his time with the FBI, he'd never killed anyone. It had never been an issue. He

was a profiler, but not a field agent. Virtually all the cases he'd handled as a private detective

had been cheating spouses.

His introduction to Duncan Ladd, the lethal servant of Aaron Sheckt, had been through a

former client. Both he and Katherine had trusted him, despite an instinctive nervousness, because

he was vouched for by that client. At first, everything had seemed simple and easy. Ladd asked

him to investigate a theft. Devon went out, found nothing, and came home to find his home

empty. Completely empty.

Three days later, when he was on the verge of insanity, Duncan appeared and delivered

Sheckt's ultimatum. That seemed like a lifetime ago. His mind was trying to forget, trying to

gloss over the part where he almost murdered two innocent people and paralyzed a third.

Devon rubbed his head. "I feel like I'm missing something."

From deep inside the computer, Emma's voice came back to him. "Say what?"

"Nothing. I've just got a strange feeling. Like there's a hole in my memory, something I

should remember but can't." He closed his eyes and waited for her to tell him he was talking

crazy. He needed her to say that. Normalcy was something he desperately needed.

"It's possible Sheckt had a telepath work you over. Duncan Ladd might himself be one.

Ever since I joined the team, I've been going through Adam's files. Not just the new mutant files,

but ones on covert organizations and black book government operations, all kinds of nasty things.

James Bond type stuff." As she spoke, the communications computer started making a funny

noise, half whine and half grumble.

Before Devon could do anything, sparks belched out of the machine. "Oops." Emma's

voice grumbled. "Found the short. Jesse must have been really tired when he worked on this

last. I think he crossed a few wires." There was a pause. Then, suddenly, the computer made

a sound like a wounded kitten and went black. A thin swirl of smoke curled out from the

access panel.

"Are you okay?" Devon asked quietly.

The computer hummed back to life, controls blinking gently. A large screen started

displaying static, then a diagnostic program started. "Peachy. Especially now that everything's

working again. At least, I think it is."

Following her words, Emma herself came out of the machine. She wiped sweat from her

brow and stretched. "Note to self, when this is all over, take a really long bath. And a nap. And

a vacation." She sighed softly and turned toward Devon. "I'm a telempath. If something's been

erased from your mind or if Sheckt's people put something in there, I might be able to do

something about it. Trust me?"

"Do I have a choice?"

A strangely sad smile formed on her face. "You almost killed me. I kept Adam and

Brennan from killing you. If you can't trust me now, you're either very stupid or way too

paranoid." Emma reached out and took his hand. She sat across from him, locking eyes with

him. "Look, I'm just trying to help, Okay? I want you to find your wife and live happily ever

after. Sounds stupid, but that's just me. I like happy endings."

She folded her hands on the desk. Watched him. "Devon, you can trust me. I'm one of

the good guys."

He nodded. "I know. I'm just having a little trouble with trust right now. Last person I

trusted took my wife hostage and delivered an ultimatum from a mad man." Turning fully toward

her, he placed his hands on the desk too. All of his focus was on Emma now. Her gaze seemed

to pierce deep inside to his soul. For a full minute, he could feel the gentlest fingers probing his

memories, searching for something hidden, something secret.

Across the desk, Emma's eyes narrowed. She sensed it close, buried under thoughts and

fears, in a dark place where no sane telepath would ever venture. Although she wasn't a

telepath, her powers had expanded since she joined Mutant X. Emma could do things now

that no ordinary Psionic could hope to.

"I sense something. It's deep. Cold. Evil." She was getting close to it. Her mind could

just barely feel the edges. Serrated. Jagged nightmares. "Very close now. Whoever did this

wanted it to stay hidden." Closer now. Emma felt a dull ache in her skull, a sensation of terrible

emptiness that was trying to draw her down into it's heart of darkness. "I see a face, I think. It's

blurry, distant. Can't make it out."

At the exact moment Emma thought she was about to reach the hidden memory in Devon's

mind, her attention was diverted. For a second, she didn't know what had distracted her. She

spun around and practically leapt from the chair. Time had passed, much more time than

seemed possible.

Strident beeping noises found their way into her ears. She glanced down at her comlink

for a moment then raised it to her lips. "Adam? Who's there?"

"Got it in one." Adam's melodious voice sent a wave of delicious warmth throughout

every inch of Emma's body. Every word he spoke brought her fully back to alertness. "Brennan

and I've found something. There's an abandoned military base on the north shore of Frost Lake.

Except it's not quite abandoned any more. We've been scouting it for over an hour, trying the

comlinks every fifteen minutes."

"Sorry I didn't call the second I got them back online. There's something in Devon's

head, a hidden memory. I think he's had more contact with Aaron Sheckt than he thinks. Or, if

nothing else, whomever he has had contact with doesn't want anyone to know about it." Emma

walked over the communications computer and checked the systems. Every relay appeared to

be working properly. "Listen, Jesse and Shalimar aren't here. They took the Double Helix."

Silence met her words. A sudden rush of static crawled out from the ring.

Emma's heart beat faster, pulsed deeper. She knew, without a doubt, that something

terrible had just happened. Since the first moment they'd made love in the dark future, there

existed a connection between her and Adam. Now, through that bond, she knew that he was in

trouble.

"Adam! Brennan! Someone respond now!" The words tumbled out, so fast that they were

almost a single word and breath. She started manipulating controls on the computer. "Can

anyone hear me?"

The signal gain was boosted. A satellite in low orbit rushed toward the area over Frost

Lake for maximum possible strength of connection. In her heart, Emma knew that comlink

wasn't the problem, but she wanted to be wrong. Wanted it more than anything else on Earth.

Her fingers played across the controls again, using the newly enhanced G.P.S. to triangulate her

teammate's positions.

Even as the satellite took pictures from high above, a single came in through the

communications computer. "Emma! We need backup! They've got Adam and I'm pinned

down. Too many of them to fight! They're everywhere, just everywhere." It was Brennan's

voice, desperate and just a little afraid. She could hear lightening sizzling in the background.

"I'm coming Brennan! Hold them off as long as you can." Emma waited for a response.

There was only silence.

Empty and dead air.

A hiss of lifeless static.

"Come on." She turned toward the garage, heading for the car. A glance back over her

shoulder showed that Devon was following. Despite everything, he wanted to be a good guy.

Emma was glad, for she would need someone to watch her back if things were as bad as her

instincts screamed they were.

The weight of the silenced weapon tucked in her clothes was oddly comforting. Memories

of future wars and death flooded her mind, but they yielded under her will. 'Focus on Adam,'

she thought as she reached the car and climbed in. 'Focus on him, he's still alive. Save him now,

breakdown later.'

Emma waited only a few seconds for Devon to climb into the car too. She glanced at him

and saw that he was calm, perhaps too calm. "No time for secrets."

Without asking or even considering alternatives, Emma used every iota of her considerable

telempathic power to learn everything she could about Devon Bowden. As she read the very

essence of his soul, he was rigid in the seat, and in pain.

When it was done, she erased all memory of her actions. "I can trust you."

"Of course you can." Devon muttered, feeling strangely disoriented.

"I know. I'm sorry I doubted you."

He shook his head. "No reason to be sorry. You thought I was going to kill you. Hell, I

thought I was going to kill you. But I couldn't. I just couldn't do it." His soft, dark eyes fell on

her. His dark, handsome face wore a perfect expression of confusion. "Why are you trusting me

anyway?"

Emma didn't look at him as she drove. She didn't answer and, after a few moments of

silence, he got the hint and turned away from her.

As the car raced toward Frost Lake, first down the hidden cavern tunnel then out onto the

secluded road, Emma mentally chastised herself for what she had just done. It had been a long

time since she violated someone's mind in that manner. The act left her feeling dirty and guilty,

yet thrilled and empowered. That side of her made Emma angry.

However, her betrayal of her own principles wasn't the only thing that weighed on her

mind. When she'd broken through Devon's defenses with her formidable mutant gifts, she'd

also found the memory that had been buried. It was as she'd thought, a deeply repressed

recollection, one that had been shoved down by a telepath of the highest order.

Fortunately for Mutant X, no other Psionic could equal Emma DeLauro's power.

Too bad she'd never told anyone that.

On the road, she mulled over the face she'd seen in his mind; a hidden horror. The black

and venomous spider prowling his web.

She had seen the face of a monster, the face of a killer. The face of the one who'd truly

ordered him to slay her and Brennan and to paralyze Adam. Emma had beheld their true enemy

and it was not a man named Aaron Sheckt.

It was a woman named Katherine Bowden.







****************************END OF PART FOUR***************************