No Peace for the Damned

guards were dead. Jon engaged Markus at the far end of the barn. And damn it all, Thirteen had just joined Jon in his fight.
    Fucking idiots!
What part of just-grab-the-hostages-and-run-like-hell didn’t they understand?
    Markus fought with his telekinesis and his strength. But he wasn’t at full power. I couldn’t make out why. Was he wounded?That didn’t make sense. His maniacal laugh cut through the room, taunting his two opponents. If he were injured, he would simply kill the humans responsible then skulk away to nurse his wounds.
    “Fine!” I yelled at the two men at my feet. They both jumped again.
    God, just let Thirteen survive
.

I turned the corner of the partition and froze.
    Along the far wall, Theo and Shane had used up their ammo. They fought a massive, drug-controlled guard with knives. All three men were bloody and worn. The guard’s head was shaved bald; his muscles bulged. I didn’t recognize him, but he fought well, obviously experienced.
    Shane crouched to pounce at the man’s back. He leaped into the air, his knife ready to kill. But midflight he turned, faced the other direction, and slashed at empty air, fighting another opponent who wasn’t really there—an illusion. Theo took on the guard alone.
    Near the barn’s garage door, Jon gripped a two-by-four with both hands. Blood poured from a gunshot wound in his shoulder. But his fight remained fierce. Unfortunately, he too had been distracted by something that wasn’t really there. And Thirteen was moving in to help him.
    A demented bark of laughter rang out. Markus stood on top of a tarp-covered heap, his eyes wild. My heart stopped.
    Markus, my handsome and fearful brother, was now a hideous skeleton of his former self. His skin was tight over bones and lean muscles. A deep purple scar cut diagonally across his face. The puckered flesh left a cleft in his lips and sliced one eye in half, the white, milky eyeball on full display. His thick waves of dark hair were cut short, buzzed above the ear to show grated flesh. The rough flesh spread down the side of his neck and under his shirt collar.
    My God, what happened to him?
    Shane screamed and fell on his back, still holding off his imaginary assailant.
    OK, enough of this
.
    I stepped into the openness of the barn. Instantly Markus’s illusions vanished. Jon and Shane both stumbled. Theo spun on the guard’s back, slicing the giant’s throat with a swing of his blade. The guard’s bald head fell back, gleaming brightly as a flash of lightning illuminated the room.
    Markus frowned, his scars pulling taut.
    “Markus!” I called out.
    He spotted me from across the room. Astonishment, confusion, disbelief—Markus’s mind was total chaos. Good. Let him stay confused until I got the others to safety.
    “You’re dead,” he said, matter-of-factly. “We checked. Several times, for days, we checked.”
    “Yeah, guess it takes a little longer to heal a beheading.” I moved forward cautiously.
    Slowly, his thoughts became more defined. Angrier. I could feel his powers gaining strength. Markus narrowed his eyes on me, and the intensity stopped me in my tracks. A tinkling sounded to my left. A rumble to my right. Suddenly, every piece of farmequipment and the tools scattered around the barn launched at me at breakneck speed. Someone shouted my name.
    The tools and instruments halted midair. With a clamor, they fell to the ground several feet away from me. I cocked an eyebrow.
    “Seriously?” I asked.
Had his scars left him stupid as well as ugly?
“What happened to you, Markus?”
    “What happened to me?” he asked; his power chilled the room. Thunder crashed outside.
“What happened to me?”
    “Yes, Markus,” I said dully, “what happened to you?”
    “What do you
think
happened to me?” he shouted. Spittle flew from his mouth. “The Kelch power must be harnessed. They needed to strengthen their energies, practice their skills.” His good eye dilated to blackness. “I told them it was me! I told them
I
was the one who killed you, but they didn’t believe me. They believed
Malcolm
.”
    His anger peaked at the mention of our other brother.
    “
He
was the one they accepted.
He
was the one they let stay in the main house. I was left with nothing. Nothing! Cast aside to be nothing more than their plaything.”
    His body shook. He opened and closed his mouth. Sounds escaped but no words formed.
    “You took my place,” I said finally. “For their frustrations and