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MONDAY SHONE BRIGHT with promise. Zander sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The rising sun streamed through the slats of his window blinds, highlighting a stream of particles in the air that seemed to culminate over his alarm clock, like the legendary pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. He blinked and threw back the blankets.
Today he would meet Emma for the first time. His sister. His twin. A grin spread across his face and he laughed out loud.
An almost explosive sense of anticipation filled his chest. Excitement made his steps light as he showered and dressed and prepared for school as though it were any other day of the week. He opened his book bag and tossed in his History textbook and notebook, his Calculus homework sheets, and the thriller novel he’d started reading, in case he had to sit at the hospital and wait. Although, he doubted he’d be able to keep his mind on a book at that point.
At the bottom of the stairs he dropped the bag by the front door. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed half past six. He was early today, an eagerness born from hope and joy in the future. He hadn’t felt this way since... maybe never.
Zander pushed through the swinging kitchen door and was surprised by his mother’s presence. He usually fixed himself cold cereal, but today she stood at the stove frying sausage and eggs. An electric skillet on the sideboard was lined with six slices of French toast, already browned and crispy. She heard the door swing shut and glanced at him over her shoulder.
“Don’t stand there gawking. Get a plate out of the cupboard and fill it up. This stuff is ready to go.” She shut off the burner and slid the skillet to the other side of the range-top. “Hope you’re hungry. Your father left early for the office. It’s just you and me, kid.”
He raised his brows. “I thought only high school students were forced to get up before the birds.” He swung open a cupboard door and pulled out two plates, reached in the cutlery drawer for forks and knives.
She nodded toward the window and smiled. “Don’t know if you’ve looked outside this morning, but we’ve got about six inches of new snow. The birds all left for Hawaii.”
“Well, up before the snowplow then.” He set the table and took a seat.
His mother brought a platter piled high with French toast, sausage and eggs and sat down with him. Butter and maple syrup were already there, along with a pitcher of orange juice. He hadn’t seen his mom so eager to cook since the last time she was released from the sanitarium. She usually went through some kind of Martha Stewart transition for a week or so and then reverted back to form. But she hadn’t been in the sanitarium for over a year.
“What’s going on?” he asked, pouring syrup over two slices of steaming French toast. He met his mom’s eyes. “This looks really good, but I thought you hated mornings. Why are you up so early?”
She scooped a couple of fried eggs onto his plate. “Haven’t seen much of you lately. Wanted to spend some time with you.”
He suddenly felt guilty for being so happy about finding Emma. His mom wouldn’t understand. He needed to know where he came from. It wasn’t just idle curiosity, but a thirst to know someone like himself, someone with the same blood running through their veins. Emma was his other half, the part he’d been missing since birth. She alone could satisfy this longing. He was sure of it.
His mom had continued to pretend even after the day he learned the truth. She’d acted as if their skin color difference was a genetic dominance thing rather than an adopted thing, unable to acknowledge the fact that he was not her biological son. His dad gave him the talk about adoption, and how they loved him even more than a biological son because they didn’t just have him–they chose him. Which was, he knew now, also a lie. He was never to discuss it with Mom though. She was always too fragile.
Of course, skin color wasn’t the problem. He didn’t care if Emma was purple or polka-doted, but that she was his true sister. Inside, where it really mattered, they were the same. The same father. The same mother. The same blood. Maybe the same questions, and together they might have a chance of finding answers.
He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mom,” he said, even as he glanced at the clock on the wall and wondered if Emma had arrived in town yet. He didn’t know if he could stay in school until lunch knowing she was only a few miles away.
She poured juice into his glass. “I know you and your father have been spending more time together lately. I think that’s great. I was worried for him. For both of you,” she said, her voice tentative. “He’s been so busy at the company since Frank’s death.”
He shrugged, surprised. Conversations with his mother usually consisted of weather conditions, if he’d eaten or not, or reminders to wear a coat. She rarely ventured away from surface topics into anything with a serious tone–something that would take the focus off her own problems. “Yeah, I guess. He is the CEO now.”
“Of course. But I didn’t want him to leave you hanging in the wind while he served his god, as his father seems to have done to him.”
“What do you mean? Dad doesn’t even go to church.”
She let her hands slip into her lap and was silent a moment, as though carefully choosing her words. “No, he doesn’t. I wish he would. He needs to deal with the past and the anger he feels toward his father. He needs to forgive, but he seems to be following Frank’s path–the path of money and power. Those things can take the place of faith in a man’s life, they can take the place of God. Frank prided himself on being free of religion or a need for God. Instead he was enslaved by pride and lust for power.”
The roar of a school bus turning down the street reminded him he was running out of time, but he was curious. “So, you believe in God, Mom?”
“Of course, I do.” She released a quiet sigh. “When I was a little girl, I loved to go to church with my Aunt Mattie. We sang hymns with such feeling. People laughed and cried and shouted praises to the Lord. I felt God’s presence there. In recent years I’ve had a hard time finding the energy to feel anything. My prescription drugs may have had something to do with that,” she said with a small smile. “But that’s no excuse. I’m sorry I never shared my faith with you.”
Tears filled his mother’s eyes.
He swallowed hard. “You were sick,” he said, automatically excusing her as his dad always did.
“I was wrong.”
Zander knew Emma believed in God. Their chat sessions often ran into the topic. She obviously had some kind of personal relationship with Him. Something he was completely confused about. Feeling like a lab rat his entire life had not left him very open to the concept of an all-powerful God, a God who loved and cared for him. If anything, he’d felt abandoned. But now, after finding Emma...
When he didn’t respond, she stood and began to gather up dishes. “You better get going. You’ll be late.” She bent and kissed his cheek.
*****
MICHAEL BREATHED IN deep and expelled loudly. “Ah, the smell of sulfur in the morning. Intoxicating and yet offensive at the same time.”
The science classroom was filled with the stench of someone’s experiment gone awry. Or maybe gone right. Some people liked to shake things up wherever they went. Most of the girls held their noses and ran into the hall for relief from the odor. Mr. Olsen had the guys open all the windows and set a fan to blow the smoke from the room.
Zander glanced at the big clock on the wall. Only 9:40. He still had two hours before lunch. Two hours until he could leave to meet his sister for the first time. He ran a hand through already tousled hair and wondered what it would be like. He’d always been somewhat of a loner. Being an only child wasn’t exactly lonely, but it taught him contentment. He didn’t need constant affirmation or attention to be happy. Unlike some people he knew.
“What are you daydreaming about?” Michael asked, jumping up to sit on the edge of the chest-high lab table. “Hot chicks or ice cream? You always have the same expression for either one.”
“You’re full of it, dude.” His eyes returned to the clock on the wall. The hands seemed to be glued in place. He slid off the stool and shrugged into the hooded sweatshirt he’d placed over the back of his chair during class. The cold air from outside was penetrating the classroom. He picked up his book bag.
“You got an appointment to keep in detention or something?” Michael grinned and rattled a container of test tubes, so the glass tinkled against one another.
“Leave the test tubes alone, son. We don’t need to clean up glass as well as sulfur smoke in the last three minutes of class time.” Mr. Olsen pulled the tubes away from Michael as though he were a toddler and placed it on the far side of the table, out of his reach.
Michael glared at the teacher’s back as he walked away. “My dad pays your stinking salary with his taxes, plus some. I’m sure there’s enough surplus to pay for a couple broken test tubes,” he muttered under his breath.
Mr. Olsen glanced back but ignored the jibe that he most certainly heard. He continued on his way around the room, straightening things and pushing chairs in place.
Michael blew a breath of derision through his nostrils. “What a wimp. These teachers around here have absolutely no backbone,” he said, cutting a swear word into the wood of the table with the edge of a dissecting tool.
“What are you doing?” Zander pushed his hand away. “This is my desk and I don’t want to get blamed for your stupidity again.” He turned and moved toward the door.
“Dude, what’s up?”
Michael was really pushing it. When had his friend become so anti-social? Maybe he was going through a rough patch at home. Whatever it was, he was sick of it. “Your attitude sucks. You always act like you’re superior to everyone. We’ve been friends a long time, but if you’re going to keep cutting people down and treating me like a fool, we’re done.”
“What? What are you talking about? Where ya going?”
“Out of here.” Zander pulled open the door as the bell rang throughout the school. A huddle of girls broke apart at the sound and moved toward lockers and into the flow of traffic. Kids exited classrooms up and down the hallway.
He took the stairs to the second level and made his way to his locker, pushing through kids every step of the way. The press of students in the hallways between classes had to be against fire code, he thought. It was like rush hour in a New York subway.
He didn’t usually return to his locker after Science lab, but he couldn’t keep his mind on anything other than getting to the hospital and he couldn’t think of a good enough excuse not to do just that, now rather than later. He spun the lock and pulled open the door, reached in for his leather jacket.
“Hey, Zander.” A blonde girl stopped beside him and smiled. “You wouldn’t be able to take notes for me in history class, would you?” She glanced back at her two friends waiting a few feet away. “I got a doctor’s appointment.”
He shook his head, wondering how Lydia even knew his name. She’d never spoken to him directly before. She was one of those girls that only went out with the top jocks and ignored the rest of the male species like so much background scenery in a sci-fi movie. “Sorry.”
Her face slowly took on that pouty disappointment girls used to get their way. She put a hand on his arm to detain him when he would have slammed the door shut. “Please. It’s very important. I can’t change my appointment.”
He shrugged. “Neither can I.” He saw his friend swaggering down the hall toward them. “Why don’t you ask Michael. He’s in the same class.” He slammed the door and turned facing her.
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “He said you’d jump at the chance.”
“Really? Well, here you go.” He jumped in the air and clicked his heels together while kids nearby glanced strangely at him and smirked. “See ya!” he said, and walked away.
Michael yelled after him, but he ignored the impulse to turn around. He hurried through the front doors of the building, pulling his jacket on. A custodian was scooping snow from the walkway. He skirted around him and trotted across the parking lot to his car, his hiking boots making a dull thud against frozen ground. He pulled out his keys but turned at the sound of pounding feet behind him.
“Hey! Where ya going?” Michael had followed him. He caught up, breathing hard, his breath a moist cloud in the freezing air. He grabbed Zander’s arm. “What’s going on?”
“Let go of me. What are you, my keeper?” He jerked away and opened the door. “The way you’ve been acting, I don’t even want to be around you. Grow up.”
He slid into the seat and slammed the door, turned the ignition and put the car into gear. Michael stood unmoving, his lips set in an angry, hard line. He didn’t bother to step away from the vehicle as Zander slowly backed the car out of the space.
He shook his head and pulled away. Glancing in the rearview mirror he saw Michael slam his fist down on the hood of the car next to him. He almost stopped, but then changed his mind. It would do no good to talk to him. Michael had anger problems that were getting worse. He needed professional help. “I guess Dad was right about Michael after all.”
*****
THE HOSPITAL PARKING lots were already cleared of snow, giving access to emergency vehicles and the coming and going of employees and visitors. Cars parked overnight were covered in a layer of white powder and with slightly rising temps would be encrusted in ice before their owners came out to clear them off.
The city was bundled in a cloak of low hanging cloud cover, melding with the already grey landscape into a dreary black and white setting that reminded Zander of old movies he and his mom used to watch on Saturday afternoons when he was young. Sometimes she’d make popcorn and they’d laugh together at the antics of Laurel and Hardy or draw their knees up to their chests as suspense built in an Alfred Hitchcock film. His mom pretended she was real scared and put her arms around him as though he could protect her from the monsters. It made him feel brave and strong, even though he knew in his heart he couldn’t really protect her. Not against the monsters she lived with daily.
He wished he felt half as brave right now. Stepping through the automatic sliding doors of the hospital, he was suddenly overwhelmed with fear. His heart raced and his palms were sweaty. He wiped them on the legs of his jeans. Pausing inside the sliding doors, he drew a deep breath and slowly released it. The early morning excitement he’d felt had quickly morphed into insecurity.
Would Emma accept him as her brother? Would she love him for who he was, in spite of his abilities or lack thereof? He knew her gift of healing had become a burden to her and her family, turning from a blessing to a curse in the blink of an eye. That’s what could happen when things didn’t turn out the way everyone wanted and expected. When God or destiny or whoever, pushed the override button, and human beings were no longer in control. Or were they ever?
A group of people milled about the entryway, talking and smiling. A nurse pushed a woman in a wheelchair toward them and stopped. She held a newborn baby, bundled up in blankets. Everyone crowded around and oohed and awwed. He moved past them toward the bank of elevators. Emma told him to come to the fifth floor.
The doors slid open and a young black man bumped into him when he stepped out. His head was down, and he held a folded brown coat clasped in his arms. Zander reached out to steady him. Grief flowed through his fingers into his chest, unfathomable despair sinking like a brick in his gut.
“Sorry,” the man mumbled, never meeting his eye.
He released the man’s arm and watched him stagger away. His path unsure, legs unsteady, he slid down onto the first bench he came to, dropped his face into the coat in his arms, and unabashedly wept. Zander turned quickly away. He felt like an intruder. He stepped into the elevator and pressed against the wall, as far away from other people as he could get. What was going on?
With time he’d learned to turn off emotional wavelengths to his mind, but this touch connection was new and frightening. Touch was far more personal and achingly more exhausting. His energy would be sapped before he ever met Emma unless he kept his distance from people. He would have to figure out a way to divert the path of emotion from his fingers or control it somehow. He wished Dr. Kapoor were alive to help him.
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open on the fifth floor. He carefully moved around the man next to him and stepped out. A floor plan was mapped out on the wall, directing visitors. Zander turned right and started walking, following arrows.
“Dr. Blackstone, you’re needed in recovery room 234,” a voice said over the speaker system. “Dr. Blackstone. Room 234.”
He stopped and glanced left. Rooms branched off a circular hallway, with the nurses’ station at the center. He approached the desk, his heart thumping like the tail of a dog inside his chest. He cleared his throat. A middle-aged nurse glanced up from the computer screen and stared at him strangely. She wore bright pink-rimmed glasses and lipstick to match. She reminded him of one of those quirky computer nerd characters on some cop show.
“Could you tell me what room the Tatums are in?” he asked.
She pushed the glasses up on her nose with an index finger and leaned forward across the desk. “Your family is in there,” she said, pointing to the room over his right shoulder.
His throat tightened uncomfortably at her words. His family? He didn’t know how to process that. He stared at the closed door. He didn’t expect Emma’s parents to accept him into their lives. He was a stranger, after all. A missing link to a mystery they were completely in the dark about. But Emma was his sister and although she’d probably never dreamed of finding him as he had her, he hoped she would accept him now.
“Do you want me to tell them you’re here?” the nurse asked. Unspoken questions spilled from her mind as she openly stared. He had complete access to her thoughts, and he hadn’t even been trying. He shook his head and set a mental block in place.
He approached the door but stopped short of knocking. He was an intruder here. Not really family. Not really needed. Just needy himself. Maybe this wasn’t the right time or place to reveal himself, to reach out to his sister. She was dealing with so much right now.
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what was beyond the door, beyond his sight, to the girl inside. The whir of machines and beep of monitors slowly dissolved around him along with the nurse’s curious gaze and unvoiced questions. Silence settled over his mind and all thoughts of the day were forgotten. He zoomed in and attempted to penetrate the thoughts of his sister. Fear, anger, remorse, and helplessness washed over him at once, like a river flooding its banks in a surge of sensation.
He silently called out to her, wanting to take away her pain–the sadness she felt.
His eyes shot open at the sound of the doorknob turning. A girl stepped out. His mirror image. His lost half. Emma.
She quickly pulled the door closed behind her and stood face to face with him. Her lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. She just stared.
“Emma,” he said softly, reaching out a hand.
Her eyes widened in recognition, the rich sable color darkening to a stormy midnight. “Zander?” she whispered, disbelief tugging at her voice.
“It’s me,” he said, cupping her cheek with his palm. “I’ve found you.”
*****
“THIS DOESN’T SEEM POSSIBLE.” Emma clasped her glass of soda with both hands, unable to take her eyes from Zander’s face.
He bit at his bottom lip and nodded, apparently at a loss for words.
He was so like her–in a taller, broader, male version. His nose was longer and slightly crooked. She wondered when he’d broken it. His mouth was wide and engaging, his teeth movie star straight. Unlike her parents, his had put out the money for braces. But his hair and eyes, the curve of his brow, the way his hands moved when he spoke, the shape of his ears–all familiar, like a reflection in a mirror.
The hospital cafeteria was fairly busy, but they’d been able to find a small table along the far wall away from most of the bustle. Dishes and trays clinked and rattled throughout the dining hall. Chairs slid in and out and conversation buzzed in a continual hum of activity. The perfect backdrop for the storm of emotion brewing between them.
It was like a dream. This moment. This meeting. Life didn’t go from average to upside down, inside out, and all around. But it had. Zander was proof of that.
A smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe not possible a week ago, or a day ago, but it’s happening now. Definitely happening now.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, her eyes taking in his athletic shoulders, the small scar on his left hand. She wanted to know everything about him. This was her brother and she’d missed their first sixteen years together. “How did you know?”
“Dr. Brock. She took one look at me when I went in for the blood test and knew who I was. She was there when we were born,” he explained. He calmly told her about Howard Pharmaceuticals and the testing he’d endured, as though his childhood was like any other.
She shook her head slowly, her eyes filled with tears. How did he appear so unaffected with all that he’d lived with over the years? She felt guilty for having escaped, while her twin was tested and probed, experimented on and used for purposes unknown. It wasn’t fair.
“I always felt different, like I didn’t quite fit in the Tatum mold. But my folks won’t understand.” She wiped a tear from her cheek and took a sip of soda. “How do I tell them?”
He reached out and covered her hand with his own. The pressure was reassuring and confident. “You won’t have to. One look at me and they’ll know.”
“Will they? They’ve lived in denial all these years. I look nothing like them. They don’t understand me, can’t deal with what I’m able to do. Yet they’ve never questioned my origin, never wondered if there was a slipup at the hospital.” She released the breath of a laugh. “A slipup. What a terrible joke. I’m a substitute for their real daughter. How will they think of me when they know that?”
“Their love for you won’t change. Just their perceptions. Maybe they’ll finally see the real you.”
“Would it be better if they never knew?”
“For you, or for them?”
“For everyone.”
He reluctantly withdrew his hand and leaned back in his seat. He didn’t want to come on too strong and frighten her away. Their sibling relationship was brand new and like a new bike might have a few squeaks and breaking in period before they’d be totally comfortable with one another. “Maybe we should talk to Dr. Brock. Is she here?”
Emma shook her head, a small frown drawing her brows together. “We haven’t seen or heard from her since she got my sister in to see this Leukemia specialist. She set up everything and made sure Kylie was added to the donor waiting list.” She shrugged. “I thought she really cared, but after what you’ve told me, maybe she was just paying a debt, and now she’s called it even.”
“I don’t think so. I was hoping she’d be here, and I could talk to her, but...” he trailed off, his glance straying across the room. The lunch line was getting longer at the counter. He didn’t want to tell her that Dr. Brock might be in serious danger. “Maybe we should go by her apartment.”
Her eyes widened at the suggestion. “You mean both of us–today?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“My parents need me here for support,” she said quickly. “And my sister definitely needs a buffer. They may suffocate her with their over-protectiveness. In fact, I should probably get back soon.” She glanced at the clock on the wall across the room, her expression pensive once more.
He smiled. “I understand. Maybe later...after the treatment and everything?”
“Maybe.” She looked down at the table and absently folded her paper napkin in half.
He was silent. Unbidden thoughts and feelings tumbled into his heart and mind, as though she’d pulled out a carton of milk and dumped it on him. The connection had never come so easily before. It took him by surprise. The emotional overload was slightly daunting, but not in the way it was with a stranger. Emma was an extension of himself, the other half of his soul. The unexpected emotions felt almost...natural.
She looked up, the napkin forgotten. “You’re in my head, aren’t you?” she said matter-of-factly, as though she was accustomed to having her thoughts read.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know.”
“What do you mean, you know? Can you read my thoughts as well?”
“Not exactly.” She pressed her hands to her chest. “But I felt you in here, lifting some of the weight. Weird, huh?”
He swallowed hard. “No. I don’t think it’s weird. I think it’s great.”
“I do too,” she said, and her face lit with a smile.
A family of four sat at the table next to them, clunking down their trays of food. They openly stared at Emma and Zander as though they were an exhibit at the zoo. A little boy about six years old rubbed his nose back and forth with one hand and pointed with the other. “Look Mommy! Twins!”
His mother pushed his hand down and gave an embarrassed smile of apology. “It’s not nice to point, Jack.”
Zander gulped the rest of his cold coffee and stood. “You want to get out of here?”
Emma followed him across the fast-filling dining room, out into the hallway. Heads turned as they walked by. She would have to get used to that. She’d never had so much attention paid to her looks before.
“Zander?”
He paused and waited for her to catch up. “Yeah?”
She closed her eyes and expelled a breath, trying to work up the courage to say what she wanted to say. When she opened her eyes, the hope she longed for was reflected back in his dark gaze.
“We should try,” he said, having read her thoughts. “My gifts are stronger since I stepped inside the hospital. Our proximity to one another has to be the factor. Maybe it works both ways. Your gift of healing may be stronger now too.”
“I’ve been praying for just such a miracle, and now you’re here.”
“You think God sent me?” he asked. He thought back to their birth and separation, how they were both ultimately protected from the Sensiline drug testing despite Frank and Dr. Devlin’s plotting. Maybe that was just coincidence, but what about the way his third-grade teacher randomly chose Emma as his email writing pal all those years ago and their online friendship continuing until everything fell into place at this time. Maybe saving Kylie was the ultimate purpose for the gifts they’d been given. He was willing to open his mind to the possibility.
She reached out and took his hand. “God reigns over everything, and our lives are no exception. He gave us these gifts for a reason. Maybe to bring us to this point,” she said, reflecting his thoughts.
“Okay,” he said, more than ready to concede the point. He didn’t know God the way she seemed to, but he was open to an introduction. He waited for two nurses to pass on their way to lunch before he continued. “What about your parents? You said they didn’t want to acknowledge your gift. Is there some way we can get them out of the room for a little while?”
She pulled him toward the elevator, a smile lifting her lips. “Silly! Have you forgotten how strong your powers are? I can feel you in my head. I’m sure they would be much more easily manipulated. Just make them think they really need to get a can of soda or something.”
“You have an awful lot of confidence in my abilities, especially since you don’t know what I’m capable of,” he said. He thought about the time he tried to get inside Dr. Kapoor’s head. There was no guarantee he wouldn’t harm one of them instead of just planting thoughts in their minds. “Maybe you should tell them a doctor wants to speak with them on another floor or something.”
“I won’t lie to them.” She put her hand on his arm and squeezed. “You can do this. I’ll help you.”
The doors opened, and they stepped into the elevator.
*****
MARCUS DIDN’T KNOW if Steven would give him the time of day, much less meet him for coffee, but he’d sent a text message with the hope he’d come. He chose a table at the rear of the café, his back to the wall, where he could watch the door without attracting attention.
A couple of college age kids sat in a booth by the front window, laptops open, making use of the free wireless connection. At the counter a middle-aged woman had placed a large order to go and was rifling through a newspaper while she waited.
The scent of Hazelnut crème coffee wafted his way and he breathed in deep before taking a sip of his green tea. He grimaced. It tasted like liquid squeezed from a compost pile. He pushed it away and wished his stomach ulcer wasn’t acting up.
He checked his phone messages again; half expecting Steven had turned him down and he’d missed it. But there was nothing. No message. No missed call. He slid it back into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and tried to relax. No one had followed him. He was pretty sure about that. Twice around the block and a visit to the drugstore next door had convinced him that Devlin’s twins were nowhere in sight.
Steven pushed through the door as the woman was leaving. He held it open for her and scanned the café for Marcus. After a curt nod of acknowledgment, he stepped up to the counter and ordered coffee.
Marcus drew a deep breath and slowly released it. His stomach churned with anxiety. What was he doing here? If Devlin found out he was warning Steven, his own life would be in jeopardy. He jumped when the door opened again, and three more women came in chatting and laughing.
Steven took the chair directly across from him, pulled the sipper lid off his cup, and blew at the steam. He looked wary, as Marcus had expected, but no more than he felt himself, given the circumstances.
“What am I doing here, Marcus? And why so furtive?” Steven asked.
He rubbed a hand over his scalp and down the back of his neck before answering. Sweat trickled down his sides. He wasn’t sure how much to divulge. “Have you talked to Devlin lately?”
Steven blew a derisive laugh through his nostrils. “Devlin? I avoid that man as much as possible. If it were up to me, he’d be...” He shook his head and looked down at his coffee. “Never mind. What about him?”
“I know we don’t often see eye to eye, Steven. But you’re still married to my daughter and that counts for something.”
“Really. It never has before.”
“Listen, will you? I’m trying to warn you. Devlin is dangerous. He wants Zander out of the program, and he means to make it happen.”
“Out of the program?” Steven’s lips twisted, short of a snarl. “If that were truly the case, I’d be ecstatic. But we both know better than that. Zander’s gifts are much too valuable to be ignored. The board would never okay releasing him from the project. At least, not until Devlin actually perfects a cure for mental illness. Or whatever he’s really working on,” he added, his eyes hard and accusing.
“The board has nothing to do with this. Devlin is out of control. He thinks he’s running things. Him and those twins of his.”
“His twins? Are you talking about the other test subjects?”
Marcus spread his hands on the tabletop and leaned forward. He lowered his voice. “The only test subjects. He knows Zander hasn’t been receiving the injections of Sensiline.” He watched Steven’s expression turn guarded, his lips tighten to a thin line. He continued. “Unlike you and Serena with Zander, he raised those two like freaks. They’ll do whatever he tells them. They’re trained sociopaths–bent on violence.”
“What are you saying?” Steven held his gaze, comprehension slowly dawning.
“I’m saying you should probably get Zander out of town. Somewhere safe.” He repeated the phrase Devlin had used with him. “Bad things tend to come in threes, and there’s already been two funerals this month.”