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ZANDER SLOWED AS HE took the exit off the freeway. He turned left onto Burnsville Pkwy and drove another couple blocks before he spotted Michael’s car parked in front of Caribou Coffee, the designated rendezvous point. He pulled into the nearest empty slot and climbed out, eager to see Emma and get her back to the cabin where it was safe. Through the front window he saw them together at a table, Michael’s blonde head bent toward Emma as though listening intently to whatever she was saying.
He watched them for a moment, wondering why Michael’s interest in Emma made him feel so protective. He didn’t like the idea of his friend being anywhere near his sister. Yet he was the one who had brought him into the mix. He stepped up to the brick building, away from the window and eye contact. What was wrong with him? Michael could be trusted. They’d been friends forever. He’d jumped at the chance to help even without knowing all the details.
He took a deep breath and reached for the door handle. Emma had gotten up and was standing at the counter for a refill or something, while Michael stared after her. The look of malevolence on his friend’s face hit Zander with such force it nearly knocked him over. He gasped with shock at the brutal attack on his senses and leaned back against the brick wall for support. He could feel hatred coming from Michael’s entire being, like a tidal wave washing over him, drowning him in a maelstrom of evil.
Zander struggled to mentally shut down the flow. He felt sick to his stomach. The techniques Dr. Ahkelish taught him were small help against this onslaught of Michael’s soul. He took deep breaths, his eyes closed, his thoughts on happier times.
“I thought I saw you out here.” Michael had opened the door and was staring at him strangely, his eyes narrowed. Access to his thoughts was completely shut down. “What are you doing? We’ve been waiting for over an hour.”
“Sorry. I was feeling kind of nauseous.”
He raised his brows. “You’re not sick with the flu or something, are ya? Because there’s no excuse. Your dad’s company ought to have plenty of drugs for that.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe it was something I ate.” He pushed away from the wall and moved quickly past Michael and in through the open door.
Emma smiled and stood up to give him a hug. “I thought you’d never get here.” She whispered in his ear. “Your friend seems a little strange–and scary.”
“Did he hurt you?” he asked, pulling back to look her in the eye.
“What are you talking about?” Michael joined them at the table and slipped back into his chair. “Don’t you trust me with your long-lost sister?” he asked, a smirk on his lips.
Zander took Emma’s hand and moved toward the door. “I know who you are, Michael. You can’t do this. We’ve been friends for too long.”
“Friends, huh? Then why didn’t I know you had a sister?”
“What’s going on?” Emma asked, looking from one to the other.
“Just go out and get in my car, Emma. The brown Buick.” He didn’t take his eyes from Michael until he heard the door open and close again. He glanced out the window and saw Emma opening the passenger door of the car.
Michael stood up and crossed his arms. “What are you going to do? Run away?”
“I don’t understand. After all they put us both through over the years, why would you want to help them do it to somebody else?”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? Instead of fighting my father every step of the way, you should have embraced what he was offering you–a place of superiority in the world.”
“Superiority? Is that what you call the hatred and bitterness you live with daily? Or what drove you to murder Dr. Akhilesh?” As soon as the words were out he knew they were true.
Michael smiled, his eyes cold and hard. “You’re getting better. Did you pull that out of my head or just guess?”
“I don’t even know you. I never really did,” he admitted, and stepped out the door.
He jumped in the car and turned the ignition. Michael stood at the window looking out at them, a smirk still on his lips. He backed away and turned toward the freeway. So far, he couldn’t tell if they were being followed, but Michael had given up way too easily.
“What’s going on, Zander? You’re scaring me.”
He glanced at his sister as he took the on ramp to 35 E. “Put on your seatbelt.”
She obeyed, but a dozen unspoken questions poured from her mind into his.
Zander clenched his teeth, anger seething to the surface. It was as if Michael’s hatred was erupting in him. He tamped it down and tried to think clearly. Emma reached out and laid her hand on his arm. Immediately he felt calm settle over him.
“We should call your father. He’ll know what to do,” she said, watching him closely.
“Make the call.” He handed her his cell phone and kept his eyes on the traffic. He’d pull off onto a random exit soon and see if they were being followed. He couldn’t take her back to the cabin yet. Not without knowing it was safe. It was too secluded.
She flipped it open, but it rang before she could make the call. “Do you want me to answer it? It says unknown caller.”
He glanced at the caller ID. “That wouldn’t be my dad.” His eyes narrowed. “Go ahead.”
“Hello?” she listened for a moment and her face paled. “Don’t hurt her!” she burst out. “We’ll do whatever you want. Just leave my sister alone.”
Zander grabbed the phone from her hand. “Who is this?” he demanded, spying a turn off.
“Why young Mr. Howard,” a strange man’s voice replied. “I don’t believe we’ve met. But I have a small child with me you might recognize. I believe you were at the hospital when she was healed yesterday. News gets around.”
He took the exit ramp, gunned the car to the light, and turned right in front of an oncoming pickup. The pickup stopped with a screech of brakes. The driver blasted his horn, but Zander ignored him. He had more dangerous men to contend with than an angry driver. “How do we know you have her?” He looked at Emma for confirmation. “Did you drop her at the neighbor’s?” he mouthed. She was supposed to sneak out the back of the house, drop Kylie at a nearby friend’s home and meet Michael a couple blocks away. But he’d also told Michael the plan, so... She nodded, her eyes wide with fright.
“Here kiddo. Say hello to Zander,” he heard the man say, then a little girl’s voice close to tears, “Zander? Is it you? This man said he was going to take me to you and Emma. But I don’t like him. Can you come get me?”
“Kylie? Where are you?”
“I’m in a van.”
“Okay, Kylie. Just–”
“That’s enough,” the man said, his voice harsh with impatience. “Now turn around and drive straight back to the company. Dr. Devlin is waiting for both of you in the lab.”
“What is it you want?” he asked, terrified of the answer. How could he give up his sister in exchange for hers?
The call disconnected.
He pulled into an empty church parking lot and idled the car, leaned his head on the steering wheel for a second to collect his thoughts. Emma suddenly threw open the door and stepped outside. He looked up but she was already hurrying toward the building.
“Emma! Where are you going?”
She didn’t respond.
He expelled a frustrated breath. They had to do what Devlin wanted. Kylie’s life depended on it. Too many people had been hurt already because of him. He reluctantly got out and followed her into the church.
She’d already entered the sanctuary, strode to the front of the auditorium and sat at an old upright piano by the time he caught up. With fingers resting lightly over the keys, eyes closed, face raised, she began to play.
Zander had never heard anything so beautiful or stirring. It spoke to his bruised heart over lost friendship, to his anger at injustice, and to his need for redemption. He slipped into a pew and listened, entranced. He closed his eyes and with the music speaking to his soul, opened his heart.
“Hallelujah! Ain’t you an answer to prayer.” A tall black man stood at the sanctuary doors, a broom in hand. His smile was genuine and broad. “We’re needing a pianist and here you come, walk right in, and begin to play like an angel from heaven.”
Emma carefully closed the lid on the keys and stood up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have helped myself without asking. I needed to play, and your piano was available,” she explained with a shrug.
“Well, I’m Pastor Williams and if you ever get the urge to play on a Sunday...” he said, jingling the keys on his belt. “But I’m afraid I have to lock up now. It’s time for me to get home for dinner. My wife gets cranky when I’m late.”
Emma hurried down the isle. “Thank you for understanding, Sir. I promise I will return the favor someday. God willing.”
“God willing.” He followed them out the door and watched as they climbed back in the car.
Zander stared at his sister with pride. “That was amazing.”
Emma didn’t respond. She sat completely still, quiet, as though listening to an inner voice, resigned to some unknown fate. Nearby streetlights popped on and dusk gathered around them. Time was running out.
He tried to reassure her, but his words sounded feeble. “You’ll play the piano again, you know.”
“I know. But I wanted to play one more time–just for the joy of it.”
*****
THE PHONE RANG THREE times before the answering machine picked up. “This is Dr. Carl Devlin,” the recording said, “I don’t answer the phone after hours. If you wish to speak with me, call back between the business hours of nine and five.” The machine beeped, the cue to leave a message.
“Devlin–I know you’re there. Pick up.” Steven waited, but the machine continued to record. “I have Frank’s backup on the Sensiline Project, and I intend to leak it to the media if you don’t leave my son and his sister alone. Do you understand? It’s time to shut this project down. Nothing good has come of it.”
The line clicked as someone picked up the other end. “Steven. How like you to pour empty threats into an answering machine. Impotent in so many ways. No wonder Serena suffers from depression. Living with you must be hopelessly unfulfilling.”
His hand tightened on the phone. “It’s not an empty threat, and I know about the depressants you gave Serena.”
Silence.
Steven’s lips lifted slightly. Finally, the man was speechless. He continued. “Take a look at your email. I sent you a copy. It names names, gives details, points to you and the other board members as culpable players. I have the original in a very safe place. So, you can start packing up, because you’re moving on. Out of the company and away from my son.”
Instead of capitulating as Steven expected, Devlin laughed. “It’s too late. Science can’t be stopped with blackmail.” The irony of his words apparently didn’t register because he went on, “My work will be acknowledged as genius. I will not allow anyone to delete all I’ve done with the click of a button and the terminating of a project. You don’t understand. You’ve never understood. Zander is the key that unlocks his sister’s power. And that power is because of me! I gave them that when I injected their mother with Sensiline.”
Steven frowned. “What do you mean, it’s too late?”
Serena moved close and leaned in to listen.
“Did you think you could hide him from me?” Devlin asked, and then the line went dead.
“Is it possible he found Zander?” Serena moved to sit on the edge of the desk, arms wrapped around her middle, her eyes filled with fear.
“I don’t know.”
He called Zander’s cell and texted him. No response. It wasn’t proof of anything. After all, if the boy wasn’t sitting on the roof of the cabin, the calls didn’t go through. But there was a way to be sure.
He sat before the office computer and brought up the website for their family’s wireless phone plan. “I set the location finder on Zander’s phone when I gave it to him. This should tell us if he’s still by Whisper Falls or not.” The information popped up on a map. The locator pinpointed his signal. Fourteen miles from home. At the corner of Belmont and 240th. Howard Pharmaceuticals.
Steven jumped up and moved to the door. “Call the police. Tell them anything. Just get them there.”
“Where are you going?” Serena called after him, her hand already on the phone.
“To the lab. Zander is my son and my job is to protect him.”
*****
“IT WAS GOOD OF YOU to join us,” Dr. Devlin said with a sweep of his hand, waving them through the door of the lab. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Emma held on to Zander’s arm as they entered. Fear and worry for Kylie flooded his mind at her touch. She wasn’t thinking about herself in this moment, but about her sister. He moved to block her from Devlin when the doctor reached out to touch her.
“She’s not one of your specimens.”
Devlin smiled and gave a slight nod. He turned and indicated the boys standing behind him. “I believe you’ve met my son.”
Zander stared at the twins, unable to tell which one was the Michael he knew. They even dressed the same. Perhaps he’d known them both at times. Or, as he was beginning to understand–not at all. The friend he grew up with, played with, fought with–didn’t really exist. The facsimiles that stood before him now were void of connection. They stared back at him with empty eyes. Then he felt a wave of hatred from the twin on the right. Maybe not so empty. Maybe just shuttered. Somewhere along the line he had taken on the Michael persona as his own and didn’t want to give it up. Fragments of thoughts, jumbled and distorted, filled his mind, then quickly shut down. Michael very effectively blocked him.
“Where is my sister?” Emma demanded, stepping forward. “Only a coward would steal a little girl to get his way!”
Devlin smirked. “Your sister is quite safe. My associate has her outside in the parking lot. She’ll be fine as long as you cooperate.” He snapped his fingers and one of the twins handed him a cell phone. He turned the screen toward Emma so that she could see the picture displayed. Kylie was tied up in the back of a cargo van, her mouth covered with duct tape.
She gasped. “How do I know you won’t hurt her?”
“You don’t. That’s the beauty of obeying under duress.” He moved to the corner of the lab where a full-sized keyboard was set up and ran the backs of his fingers over the keys. Notes spilled out like foreign objects in a wound.
A man knocked at the door of the lab and Michael let him in. Zander recognized him as Uncle Frank’s attorney. Fillmore. The same man who had been following them. The sound of his name had always tasted like iron, or perhaps blood. Filmore pulled a black stocking cap from his head and glanced around the room. Pale brows rose at sight of Zander and Emma, but his expression remained impassive. He ignored the twins and spoke directly to Devlin. “You wanted me?” he asked, his tone slightly defiant.
“Yes, I did. We’re going to do a little experiment and I need a volunteer.”
Fillmore failed to react in time as Michael stepped forward, pulled a revolver from his jacket, and shot him pointblank in the chest. The attorney slumped to the floor, his eyes wide with shock. His mouth gaped open, gasping for air.
Emma screamed and dropped to his side. Zander followed but kept looking over his shoulder to keep sight of the twins. They backed away from the scene as though what occurred was equivalent to smashing a bug with a shoe. Michael leaned against the wall and picked at his fingernails.
“Call 911!” Emma said, her voice shrill. She pressed her hands to Filmore’s chest to slow the flow of blood. A wet, dark blot spread slowly outward from under her fingers. She glared across the room at Devlin. “This man is going to die if you don’t do something.”
“Actually, poor Mr. Fillmore will die unless you do something.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What do you want from me?”
“He wants you to play the healing notes,” Zander said, clutching his stomach as his gut twisted with the emotional turmoil in the room. Too many thoughts, too many feelings sharp with hate. He struggled to shut them out.
“That’s right. The healing notes,” Devlin repeated, glancing at him curiously. He crooked his finger for Emma to join him at the piano. “Your little sister was good enough to let us in on that part of your talent. Although, I heard you didn’t need a piano yesterday. But we didn’t want to take the chance of that being a fluke. After all, this man’s life rests in your hands.”
Emma stood, her hands red with blood. A look of near hysteria filled her eyes. Zander grabbed a white lab coat hanging by the door and helped her wipe the sticky mess away. He noticed a nametag clipped on the pocket. Dr. Akhilesh Kapoor.
“Keep pressure on the wound,” she mumbled.
Zander knelt down and pressed the soiled coat against Fillmore’s chest. He spied a glint of metal sticking out of the pocket of the man’s leather jacket. He covered the area with the soiled coat and slipped his hand covertly beneath to retrieve it. A switchblade. Stark images of Dr. Brock’s lifeless body came immediately to mind, images he’d tried to block when talking with the detectives the day before. This was a murder weapon.
Emma moved to the piano, in a daze. She rested her fingers on the keys and closed her eyes. “God, heal this man,” she breathed.
“God has nothing to do with it,” Devlin said, his voice hard and brittle as flint. “You’re the one with the power. Now play!”
The twins moved nearer to Zander. He sensed their growing anger with the situation. They weren’t brainless robots after all, but flesh and blood. Sparks of jealousy hit him like quick flashes of lightning in his brain. They didn’t want Emma to succeed. He prepared for the coming storm, furtively easing the knife into the palm of his hand.
Notes flowed softly from beneath her fingers, tinkling like wind chimes in the spring. Soon the tempo rose as birds in flight and flew wildly along. She played as though her life depended on it, and Zander knew it did for he couldn’t detect any improvement in Fillmore. His breathing was shallow, his pulse weak. Her hands flew over the keys in a crescendo of sound, crashing waves, beating wings, joyous reunion.
Everyone looked at Fillmore. He tried to raise his head, gasped something, then fell back, the air from his lungs slowly hissing from between his lips like air from a leaky tire. Zander slowly rose, terrified of what would happen next.
Michael looked down at the dead man and laughed. “Good job! Too bad you weren’t here when Dr. Kapoor committed suicide. Maybe you could’ve saved him too.”
The other Michael watched his brother as though taking cues. He smiled and turned toward Emma. “Yeah, good job,” he mimicked.
Devlin swore and threw his hands up in the air. “What do I have to do to get you to cooperate? You obviously have no qualms about letting a stranger die–but what about your sister?” He motioned for Michael to retrieve the girl from the van. “Get her!”
“No!” Emma screamed. “I played what you wanted. What else can I do? I’m not God.” Tears streamed from her eyes.
Zander moved to block Michael from the door. “You can’t do this. Listen to me. Give us another chance.” He looked across the room at Emma. “We’re stronger when we work together.”
Michael shoved him out of the way and pulled open the lab door.
“Wait!” Devlin ordered. “I want to see this combined power.”
Zander felt a renewed surge of hatred welling up in Michael. He dared to look back at him and smile. Michael’s glare was deadly. Zander tucked the knife up his sleeve, feeling the tables turning. “Emma,” he said, “remember at the hospital. We both laid our hands on Kylie. Let’s try that.”
Emma hurried across the room. She crouched beside him over Fillmore’s lifeless body. He clasped her hands and together they pressed down upon the man’s chest. She shuddered, then drew a deep breath and slowly expelled it. With eyes closed she began to sing.
The notes filled the room and washed over everything with a cleansing power. There was no other way to describe the sound other than what the nurses at the hospital had said, “like an angel singing.” Zander’s skin felt alive, crawling. He peered down and saw what looked like millions of fire ants escaping from Fillmore’s body crevices, through his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears and disappearing as they emerged into the light of the room. He glanced up to see if anyone else had witnessed the mass exodus, but they seemed intent on Emma.
She continued singing; afraid to stop for fear her sister would be next. The body beneath their hands began to shake and Fillmore’s eyes shot open. His mouth opened and closed gasping for air like the gills of a fish out of water. They both jumped back at the same time and struggled to their feet, staring, every bit as shocked as everyone else in the room. Fillmore sat up and looked around, dazed but breathing.
Dr. Devlin knelt beside him and clapped him on the back. He laughed, almost giddy with excitement. “You’re a lucky man, Fillmore. Lazarus ain’t got noth’n on you.” He stood up and faced his twins. “You see why I need them? Their power is greater than anything you can do. My research isn’t complete without them. They only had Sensiline in their bloodstream for a short time. You boys have taken my best years, been injected with different mutations of the drug and still can’t do what they do. I need to know why.”
Michael grabbed Zander by the neck and shoved him up against the wall, his arm pressed into his windpipe. He gasped and choked, unable to breath. “Is this really what you want, Father? He’s weak. He lets his emotions rule him. You taught us better. You said we were superior. With training, we could even learn to heal. You don’t need them.”
“Leave him alone,” Devlin said, irritation showing in the set of his jaw. He turned toward Emma. “So far you’ve done a wonderful job of keeping your sister from harm. Let’s see if we can keep that up, shall we?”
Michael turned his head. His eyes locked with his twin.
Zander sensed a disturbance in the air of the room, a hum of energy originating from the twins. Michael’s grip on his throat relaxed, his concentration elsewhere. Zander pulled away, sucking air into his lungs like an emphysema patient. He stepped around Fillmore who still sat on the floor, obviously in shock, feeling his chest for bullet holes and trying to reconcile the pool of blood beside him. He’d be no help against the twins at this point.
“Stop this right now, Twin!”
Michael and his brother ignored Devlin, letting rage boil to the surface of their minds and spill out into the room. Cracks exploded up the windows like bullet shots and webbed out across the glass panels. Objects flew from tabletops and smacked into walls. Emma dodged a book aimed straight for her head. Zander could feel the twin’s rage building in him as well and he fought to keep it from sweeping him away.
The look on Devlin’s face changed from anger to fear. He backed toward Emma, arms raised as if to shield her. “You can’t do this. She’s too valuable.”
Zander knew what they planned. They meant to kill Emma. He jumped on Michael’s back to break his concentration. Michael flung him off easily and stood over him, lifeless eyes mentally pinning him to the floor. His brother joined forces at his side.
“Michael! Please. Don’t do this,” he begged, trying to get through to whatever sane part of his friend still existed. He winced at the pressure in his skull and fought the thoughts coming thick and fast. Hate. Fury. Jealousy. Murder. It felt as though he would explode from the inside. Shadows pushed and writhed to fill his mind. He cradled his head and groaned.
Suddenly Emma’s music flooded the room. Zander forced his eyes open and looked up. She was at the piano again, playing colors of grace and goodness. He didn’t know how it was possible, but he clearly envisioned shades of lavender, and aqua blues and greens flying from her fingertips and pushing back the darkness that threatened to consume him.
The twins turned away from Zander, releasing him for the moment. He struggled up against the wall and stood shakily, his head pounding with the force of their mind games. They were now intent on destroying his sister. And there was nothing he could do.
The glass in the windows shook with such force Zander knew what was coming. Devlin knew too but refused to believe they would harm him. He jumped in front of Emma just as the windows imploded, hurling shards of glass into the room, directed at her. Devlin lurched and gasped, then fell to the floor, a knife-sized sliver sticking out of his heart.
“Father!” screamed Michael’s twin, and rushed to his side. His face crumpled like a child and he wept uncontrollably, pounding the doctor’s chest with his fists. “No, no, no, no,” he mumbled repeatedly rocking back and forth.
Michael reached in his coat and pulled out the revolver. His lips twisted into a snarl. He raised the gun and pointed it first at Emma, then Zander. “You’ve ruined everything. I was destined for greatness. Father said so. I only wanted him to love me,” the twins said in unison. Michael shot his brother a look of derision and yelled, “Stop doing that! We’re not the same person!”
Zander crossed his arms and felt up his sleeve for the switchblade. It wasn’t there. He must have dropped it in the scuffle with Michael. He darted a look around. Nothing. Michael had a gun and he had no physical means to defend his sister against that.
Through the broken glass of the wall he heard the elevator descending. Ding. Ding. He glanced down the hallway. The doors opened and policemen, guns drawn, peered furtively out. He knew they couldn’t have gained access to the sublevel without his father’s keycard. His dad must have called them. He was willing to lose everything to save his son. He felt sorry for Michael. He’d never had that from Devlin. Perhaps in a different environment where love was involved, he could have really been the friend he thought he grew up with.
Michael jerked the gun toward Zander. He’d heard the commotion down the hall as well. “Get over there,” he hissed, directing him to move to the far wall by Emma, out of view of any sniper.
He crouched below the broken glass, hiding behind the lower partition, the gun pointed in their direction. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you monkey boy? You had a perfectly good family, but you had to go snooping around for something else. Nothing’s ever good enough for Alexander Howard.”
“I’m really sorry your dad was killed. But nobody else has to get hurt. Just give yourself up, Michael. It was an accident. I’m sure they’ll go easy on you under the circumstances,” Zander said, not really believing it but hoping Michael would.
“They’ll go easy all right. With my testimony against your father and all the board members, they’ll probably give me a get out of jail free card.” He laughed at the expression on Zander’s face. “Oh, so you think your dad is too good to pay?”
“No,” Fillmore said from across the room, “but I do.” He raised the switchblade and threw it straight at Michael. It sank deep into the front of his thigh.
Michael screamed, jumped up, turned the gun on Fillmore, and pulled the trigger. A volley of shots rang out from the hallway, hitting Michael, and he fell to the ground. The gun skittered away across the floor, coming to rest alongside Fillmore’s prostrate form.
Zander crawled over to his friend and took his hand. “It’s okay, Michael,” he said, knowing full well it wasn’t. “The ambulance will be here any minute. Hang on.” He felt Michael grip his hand for a fraction of a second.
He tried to say something, and Zander bent low to hear. “I’m still better...(gasp) than you...(gasp) at soccer.” His head lolled to the side.
The police swarmed into the lab, guns drawn. They secured the area and called for the paramedics to come in, but it was already too late.