Flawed (Perfection) Page 5

  “Let him go,” Ellyssa said.

  Rein glanced at her, his eyes circles; wildness raged within the green. Red splotched his face as well. A slew of cussing saturated the room.

  “Let him go, Rein. If he is a spy, I can get information from him.”

  Rein stopped knocking the captain’s head but didn’t let go of his neck. His knuckles were bleached white from the death grip he held. “It—It’s him,” he stuttered, his words pained and angry. “He helped her.”

  The her Rein referred to was the now-deceased Detective Angela Petersen, The Center’s Schutzpolizei. Ellyssa’s father, Dr. Hirch, had sent Angela to find Ellyssa when she’d escaped from under his control. It was the detective who’d delivered Rein to Dr. Hirch, and ultimately into the hands of Ellyssa’s sister, Aalexis.

  Rein’s lips curled into a snarl as he turned back toward the captain, their noses almost touching.

  Thump.

  Plaster dust fell. A bluish grey tinted the captain’s face.

  “Stop it!” Trista screamed, still trying to break free from Woody.

  Ellyssa didn’t need to read Rein’s mind to know what he was thinking. The pain and suffering he’d experienced under Aalexis’ influence had been torturous. She herself had felt the faux fire lick through her veins as her sister manipulated his pain receptors. Even with Ellyssa’s genetically enhanced capabilities and high threshold for pain, the intensity had crumpled her to the ground like a ragdoll. Frankly, it surprised her that Rein, a normal human, had been able to withstand such agony.

  “I know. I understand,” Ellyssa said. Calmly, she reached up and stroked Rein’s face. “I can get to the root of this if you let him go. If you give me the chance.”

  For a moment, Rein acted like he wasn’t going to listen to her, the tips of his fingers hidden in the flesh of Dyllon’s neck. Then, he let out a breath and, slowly, he nodded. One by one, Rein’s fingers relaxed. Blood rushed back into his knuckles, turning them pink.

  Hacking, Captain Jones slid down the wall to his knees. “I…” he croaked.

  Ellyssa knelt before him, her face clear of emotion. “I know who you are,” she stated.

  The captain looked at her, understanding filtering into his eyes.

  “I need you to calm down.”

  He acknowledged her words, but his expression, and the way his eyes darted around, showed lack of ability.

  Ellyssa looked up at Rein, whose face was still flushed in fury, then at Woody. He held Trista by her upper arm; she no longer struggled, her blue eyes locked on Ellyssa. Back by the French doors, holding hands, Tim and Sarah stood.

  They were all watching her.

  “I want you to understand,” she said, facing Dyllon, “as of right now, no one will hurt you. But you must relax.”

  Hand around his neck, breath ragged, Dyllon stared at her, apparently confused. He glanced at Trista, pleadingly, as if he expected her to save him.

  Ellyssa shook her head. “Do you understand?”

  He nodded and exhaled a raspy breath.

  She looked into his eyes, the bluish-green peeking around the edges of dilated pupils. “Calm,” Ellyssa said in a soothing voice.

  Surprisingly, the captain did. His pupils constricted slightly, and the anxiety on his face dimmed. As Dyllon sucked in a ragged breath, Ellyssa swung her mental door open. Images and emotions filed in, one fading into another, a blend of past and present.

  First, instant recognition of Rein when he’d barreled in the room. Rein grabbing him off the chair and slamming him repeatedly against the wall. Fear, confusion and betrayal. Trista had assured him he’d be accepted.

  The captain was infatuated with Trista. Blonde hair and blue eyes, Trista could blend so easily into society. Yet, Trista was part of the Renegade camp. If Dyllon hadn’t helped her, Trista would’ve been amongst the exterminated, captured or lying dead in a pool of blood back at the cavern, like so many of the Renegades.

  The picture shifted.

  Males and females dressed in black riot gear, armed. Darkness, then flashes of light. Shots fired, screams of terror. A river of crimson, thick and flowing. Men, women, and children falling to the ground, eyes glazed over in permanent accusing stares.

  Guilt saturated Dyllon, wiping free the fear and confusion. He hadn’t pulled a trigger; his eyes stayed glued to the macabre, unable to step forward and stop the madness.

  Through the captain’s mind, Ellyssa lived the horror, feeling Dyllon’s repulsion. Her friends and family gunned down without mercy. Bile bubbled in her midsection. She wanted to stop looking but couldn’t, just like when she’d been drawn to the toddler down in the cavern that was now a tomb.

  Finally, the captain’s gaze shifted to Trista. Like a tether broke, Ellyssa slammed the mental door, cutting off his thoughts. Trying to blink away the nightmare she’d just seen, Ellyssa shook her head. She looked up.

  Rein stood over her, his eyebrows pinched together over the bridge of his nose and arms crossed over his chest. Woody was behind him with the same expression, his hand locked around Trista’s arm; her blue eyes had narrowed to angry slits.

  Standing, Ellyssa nodded once. Rein’s and Woody’s postures relaxed a little, but not completely.

  Hesitantly stepping forward, Tim said, “Why don’t we all go into the kitchen?”

  Ripping away from Woody’s grip, Trista ran to Dyllon and helped him to his feet. She faced Rein, her eyes like icy shards. “If you guys would’ve listened…”

  Rein didn’t reply, his face set hard and angry.

  “Are you okay?” Trista asked Dyllon.

  Massaging the tender flesh where Rein’s fingers had dug in, Dyllon nodded. Trista helped him into the kitchen.

  Sour moods cast an ugly grey over the yellow, covering the sunshiny ambience of the kitchen. Woody stood behind Captain Jones. Tim took the seat at the head of the table while Sarah went to Trista, who leaned against the counter. She patted the younger girl’s shoulder consolingly. Looking apologetically at Trista, whose eyes flashed dangerously, Ellyssa sat across from the captain.

  “Start talking,” Rein said, plopping into the seat next to Ellyssa.

  “I can’t believe how you’re treating him,” Trista mumbled.

  Rein and Woody both glanced at her, but neither commented. The tension in the kitchen thickened, almost suffocating.

  For a moment, Dyllon didn’t say anything. He just massaged the sides of his neck as he stared at Ellyssa, then Rein. Finally, he set his hand on the table and cleared his throat. With him calmer, Ellyssa locked onto his mind. If he told one lie, she would finish Rein’s job.

  “There’s a lot to tell you,” he said, grimacing with each word. Finger-shaped marks shaded his neck.

  Leaning back in his chair, Rein crossed his arms over his chest. His jaw worked nonstop. A vein pulsed in his temple.

  “It was awful.” The captain closed his eyes and swallowed, loudly. He massaged his neck. “I’d never witnessed anything like it,” he said. “Before, we captured Renegades and sent them to concentration camps. I had never been on the front lines.” He opened his eyes, his expression apologetic. “Children, women…”

  “Shut up,” Rein said, looking away. “Just shut up.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Slamming his fists on the table, Rein popped out of the chair. “Sorry!” he yelled, his body rigid, like he was ready to climb over the table to finish what he had started.

  As soon as Rein jumped out of his seat, Dyllon’s thought process jammed, and images looped around—back at the cave, the murderous scene, Trista—making it hard to get a read on him.

  Trista brushed by Woody, pushing him out of the way. “Stop it,” she said between clenched teeth. “I want you to stop it, right now.” She jabbed her finger in the air at Rein. “That’s enough.”

  Ellyssa grabbed Rein’s hand. The gesture seemed to calm him a little. He fell back into his chair and covered his face.

  “We have always accepted people
. Always. Including her,” Trista said, nodding toward Ellyssa. “No offense.”

  Ellyssa waved her off in understanding.

  “Did you think for a moment, that everyone we ever accepted was innocent? I’m sure plenty of them had marks against them before they had enough…saw the light…Whatever, and defected from society.”

  “Maybe not,” Rein said, lip quivering, “but that was our family.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? I was there.” Her voice broke, tears forming in her eyes. “Dyllon might not have been able to save everyone, but he saved me.” She swallowed. “Me.”

  Rein glanced around the room. Besides Woody, who looked at the back door, everyone else warily stared at him. Exhaling, his body deflated as the anger left. He slumped forward. “Thank you,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “Don’t thank me,” Dyllon said. “It was terrible, and I’m sorry I…” He stopped. Trista held out her hand, and he wrapped his fingers around hers, pulling strength from her. “It was a madhouse. An utter madhouse. Gunfire ricocheted. The screaming. The cries for help.”

  “That’s enough,” Woody said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We saw what you left behind.”

  “There was nothing I could do. Nothing.” His voice was desperate, as if needing them to understand and forgive. “What could I do?”

  What seemed like an eon ago, Ellyssa had said the same exact thing to Rein back in the cavern. She felt his eyes on her, and turned to look. Remembrance of that time reflected within his green eyes as well.

  Putting her hands on Dyllon’s shoulders, Trista said, “You didn’t see it…didn’t hear it. There was nothing anyone could do. Don’t you think I would have? I was armed, too, and just as helpless. If either one of us tried, we would have just been added to the body count.”

  Woody cringed at Trista’s words.

  “Any courage I had died the moment gunfire flashed from the barrels,” Dyllon started, his head lowered. Shame accompanied the memory Ellyssa had witnessed. “Like a coward, I backed out of the cavern and ran. The barrage and screams chased me down the passageways. In my confusion, I went right past the opening to the upper level.”

  “It was lucky for me he did,” Trista continued, her blue eyes swimming in grief and unshed tears. “He ducked behind the rock formation I had been hiding behind.”

  “The coward I am,” he mumbled.

  Trista lowered her head to his ear. “If not for you, I’d be dead,” she whispered before straightening back up. “I dropped my gun in surprise, and I thought that was going to be it. I closed my eyes, waiting for the sound of gunfire, waiting to feel the impact of a bullet. Instead, I felt his hand over my mouth as he slipped in behind me, pulling me back further into the darkness. Shh, he whispered to me, I’m not going to hurt you. And I believed him. For some reason, I believed him.

  “We stayed hidden, listening to the sound of footsteps of the police patrolling the areas. I remember being shocked that I could hear them at all with my heart pounding in my ears.” She paused for a moment. “It’s funny where your mind travels under times of stress.

  “As time passed, the frequency of the patrols lessened. Dyllon picked up a rock. I crazily thought he was going to do me in with it.” She laughed a little, a sad, sad laugh, and shook her head. “Absurd.”

  “I didn’t want to chance the gun,” Dyllon threw in, absently. He still sat with his head hanging.

  “He edged back to the formation, and the next patrol that had happened by, he smacked him on the side of the jaw. The guy went down with a thump that seemed to echo louder than the gunfire.”

  Trista stepped away from Dyllon and waved her hand down the side of her body. “My uniform. As I said, there was no time to pick and choose.”

  Ripples of silence washed away the last of Trista’s words while everyone stilled, contemplating what she’d just told them. Ellyssa watched the captain, who seemed content to stare at his twisting hands.

  During Trista’s recounting of events, not once had Dyllon feel regret for his new choices, or anything that felt like he betrayed his society or planned to betray the resistance. All he felt were utter guilt, sorrow, and shame. A saturation, really. In that instant, at the site of the massacre of her family, everything he had once believed in had bled out onto the stony ground with the blood of the Renegades.

  Ellyssa prodded deeper, sinking tentacles into hidden crevices and caches of his mind. Nothing sinister to alert her. Gating off the stream of thoughts, she pulled her eyes from Dyllon and met the expectant eyes of Woody and Rein. She nodded once, indicating he was telling the truth.

  Like a light breeze had blown in, the intense storm cloud lifted a little as muscles relaxed and jaws unclenched. Peeking through, the sunshiny feel of the kitchen tried to reclaim its territory.

  “What does that mean?” asked Trista, breaking the silence. She watched Ellyssa through narrowed lids, light eyelashes brushing her cheeks.

  “It means,” answered Woody, “we believe his story.”

  Trista’s head snapped toward him. “So, what, does that mean I’m in the clear, too? And how would you know?” she said, facing Ellyssa. “What’s with the freaky episode?”

  Unbelievably, Rein chuckled, a sound that wasn’t filled with happiness, as if he had just remembered everyone, besides he and Woody, was in the dark about her ability. “That’s a long story, too.”

  Trista didn’t try to pry any other information from them. She stared at them for a long time until she finally broke the silence. “Well, to continue, what is good about Dyllon’s involvement with us is that they don’t suspect him as of yet.” She lifted her chin in pride. “His knowledge of the patrols is why I was able to check the cavern one more time for you before leaving.”

  “And where would you go?” Rein asked.

  “It’s too dangerous to stay here,” Dyllon answered.

  “They were going to hide south of here,” Tim broke in. “I didn’t know what else to do. Communicating with any others has almost been impossible. And I have Sarah to protect.” He glanced at his wife lovingly. The older woman smiled.

  “Which reminds me,” Dyllon said, as he stood. “I have to get back.” He tried to straighten the creases Rein’s hands had left in his uniform, then gave up, shifting his attention to the armband. It fell loose again and dangled from a seam.

  Leveling his eyes on Dyllon, Rein stood, while at the same time Woody placed his hand on the captain’s shoulders as if he were about to shove him back into the chair. “And what about the others?” Rein asked. “Not everyone was…” he closed his eyes.

  Dyllon’s shoulders tensed, and he clearly looked uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t wait to escape outside. “I don’t know yet. I think they’ve been taken to a camp. I’ve been trying to find out, but I don’t have the security clearance.” He cocked his head. “I’m trying.”

  For the first time since Rein had grabbed him, Ellyssa saw sympathy in Dyllon’s eyes, instead of confusion or pain. She touched his mind and saw the attempts he’d made trying to locate the missing people.

  “It is okay, Rein, Woody. Let him go. If we keep him, they will send someone looking.”

  Woody’s hand slipped off his shoulder, while Rein sighed.

  Ellyssa stood and leaned into Rein. “Trust,” she whispered in his ear.

  She could feel his warmth, and an underlying odor of fear mixed with his scent. He nodded.

  She turned back to Dyllon. “Do something about the marks on your neck.”

  Dyllon reached up and touched his neck. His eyes flinched at the contact. Looking at Ellyssa in a weird way, he said, “Yeah.” He pulled his collar up and faced Trista. “I will see you tomorrow.” He leaned over and quickly pecked her on the cheek.

  Rein and Woody noticeably bristled but remained silent at the show of affection. Reaching over, Ellyssa laid her hand on top of Rein’s. He interlocked their fingers.

  Trista touched the spot where Dyllon had kissed her as she watched h
im slip out the back door. Crossing her arms, she turned back toward the table. “The way you treated him was deplorable.”

  “You don’t understand,” Rein retorted.

  Trista’s eyes raked across Rein, before she exhaled and released her arms from their defensive position. “You’re right, I don’t. I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through, Rein. For everything you all have been through. But you can’t imagine what I’ve been through, either.”

  “You’re right,” Rein said, his voice drawn and tired. He plopped back down in the chair.

  Looking at Rein and Ellyssa, Trista grabbed Woody’s hand and held it to her chest. “You have to understand; he saved me. He helped me get to you. For that, regardless of his past transgressions, we owe him a chance. Please.”

  Rein lowered his face into his hands. It was a long while before he spoke. Finally, he said, “Whatever.”

  “I think we should get something to eat and talk about something else for a while,” Sarah said, removing the coat she still wore.

  Ellyssa glanced at Tim, who sat silently in his chair, thoughtful. She wondered what he was thinking about, how all this affected him and his wife. Tim had mentioned how they needed to protect themselves, too. She entertained the thought of looking into his mind, then disregarded the notion. The invasion of privacy seemed wrong. If he wanted to share his thoughts, it should be by his choice, not by her curiosity.

  The older woman went to the refrigerator and started to pull out packages of meat and cheese, while Trista, apparently already at home in the quaint house, went over to the cupboard and grabbed bread and mustard.

  Ellyssa’s stomach rumbled loudly.

  6

  The one Rein had called out to during his torture, Doc, lay curled in the corner of the low-lit storage room. Red welts marked his back, chest and face, and beads of blood formed along the angry ridges. Regardless of the punishment, the prisoner’s lips remained pressed together in a tight line. Head hanging low, he looked between strands of his greying hair, hatred burning bright in his light-brown eyes.