Caressed By Ice (13 page)

Kaleb read
the précis of the report on his desk and looked up at his most senior aide. “You're sure there's been no error?”

“Yes, Councilor.” Silver Mercant's eyes were an odd shade between gray and blue, and had apparently been the genesis of her given name. That extraneous fact was something Kaleb had made it his business to find out—he trusted no one near him he didn't know inside out.

“I rechecked every byte of data we were able to hack into and download. Unfortunately the facility was attacked before we broke the final encryptions,” she said, “but we have enough to make a conclusive assessment. Someone has already authorized live trials of the Implant Protocol.”

Kaleb leaned back in his chair and swiveled to stare out at the gray chill of Moscow. People hurried across the snow-flecked square, all walking as if they had somewhere to be—unsurprising, given the city's forty-year reign as one of the world's economic supercenters. “Were you able to determine who gave the order?” He turned back to Silver.

“Negative.” Her eyes flicked to the window behind him. “It appears you have an engagement.”

He'd already seen the trail laid by the approaching high-speed airjet. “We have ten minutes before my guest makes it down to this office. Tell me what else I need to know.” This information could mean a change in his plans.

“The authorization came from very high up in the Council ranks. The individual or individuals were able to provide test subjects who either volunteered or were those who would not be missed—the notes are vague on that point.”

An intentional oversight, Kaleb thought. No rational Psy would accede to having his or her brain implanted with a device that hadn't yet reached beta testing. He could almost guarantee there had been no volunteers.

“The data is fragmented,” Silver continued, “but I'm ninety percent confident the test group is limited to ten members. They've already had one confirmed fatality.”

“Find me that body.” If not literally, then figuratively. A missing Psy who matched the description parameters.

“I'm already working on it.” She glanced down at the flat screen of her organizer. “There are two other crucial factors. The first is that Ashaya Aleine appears to have solved the issue of Static.”

Static, a term used to describe the buzz of background noise—the sound of millions of whispering Psy minds—produced during simulations to test the theory behind Protocol I. No Psy could function with that kind of mental distraction.

“The second factor?” A small light flashed on the surface of his fully computronic desk. The airjet had landed on the rooftop landing pad.

“It's common knowledge that Protocol I would never have worked as initially postulated because it would have reduced the entire population to one level. To use an analogy, we would have all become worker bees.”

And a hive could not survive without a queen. “You're saying Aleine solved the problem of distinct but compatible implants for different segments of the populace?” Ensuring power remained in the hands of those who would use it to keep the Psy at the top of the food chain.

“Not completely,” Silver clarified, “but she does appear to have broken the implants into two categories—primary and secondary. Of the original participants in the trial, eight had secondary implants, two primary.”

Two rulers. With possible total control over the other eight. Such influence would be the prerogative of those in power should Protocol I come to fruition. “See if you can get me any names.” He had his suspicions, but what he needed was proof.

“Yes, Councilor.” She gave a short nod and walked out.

Another light flashed on the gleaming black smoothness of his desk to indicate that his visitor had exited the glass hover-elevator and was heading toward his office. Touching a concealed panel under the desk, he initiated its secure mode. The desk turned opaque, hiding the computronics but continuing to record everything that went on in this room. Of course, he had no doubt that his visitor had come prepared for such an exigency.

A knock and then the door opened to reveal his administrative assistant, Lenik. “Sir, Councilor Duncan is here for your meeting.” He shut the door as soon as she came through.

Walking around the desk, Kaleb went to meet her midway. “Nikita. It was good of you to come all this way.”

Almond-shaped brown eyes looked into his, cool and certainly calculating. “As it appears we need to discuss certain discreet matters, it was the logical choice. Your offices aren't as closely watched as mine.”

He had no need to ask for further explanation. The DarkRiver cats and their allies, the SnowDancer wolves, hadn't been shy about the fact that they were keeping tabs on Nikita. She was the only Councilor within easy reach of their territories since Tatiana's move to Australia two months ago. “Perhaps that will no longer be a problem in the near future.” The Council had taken steps to eliminate the changeling issue.

Nikita shifted her head slightly and the light from the ceiling fixture bounced off the glossy black of her hair. “We will see. I'm not as convinced as the rest of the membership about the infallibility of the plan. Our data collection on the changelings has been allowed to lapse to a disgraceful level. We're making decisions based on outdated information.”

Kaleb made a mental note to check her assertion. “The DarkRiver Project is still bearing good returns, I trust?” He was referring to the groundbreaking real estate deal between the Duncan Group and the leopard pack that controlled San Francisco and its surrounding areas.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “Despite the annoyance the cats present in terms of Council business, they're good for my economic interests.”

“A sharp distinction.”

“Precisely. My profit margin will sustain major damage should the Council's plan succeed. But I'm sure you're well aware of that. It's why you asked me to meet you.”

He gave a small nod. “I thought we might have a number of interests in common.”

Nikita walked past him to the window, her composed business persona hiding a core of pure poison. “I thought you would ally with Shoshanna. She was responsible for your entry into the Council.”

He came to stand beside her, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit. “On the contrary, Nikita. I alone was responsible for my ascension to the Council.” He'd set his eye on the goal at age seven and never blinked. No one had been allowed to stand in his way. But then, all the Councilors had blood on their hands.

Nikita didn't dispute his claim. “Your jockeying for leadership is why Marshall has begun to back Shoshanna and Henry.”

He watched pale winter light crawl over the square and saw in it another future, one he'd shape. “You're mistaken. I have no desire for the leadership. Leaders are the biggest targets and I haven't made it this far by courting visibility.”

“Then you should tone down your aggressiveness during Council sessions, let Marshall know his position isn't in jeopardy.”

“If he believes that, he's a fool.” He gave her a skeptical look. “Henry and Shoshanna want to lead. Marshall would do better to ally himself with us.”

“That still leaves Tatiana and Ming.”

“From what I can see, Tatiana is the swing vote.” The other Councilor had made no alliances he'd been able to unearth. “However, we may have a situation with Ming.”

“I'm listening.”

He told her what Silver had discovered. “As the Councilor in charge of the Implant Protocol, he has to have full knowledge of the unsanctioned trials.”

“This is unacceptable.” Ice dripped off Nikita's every word. “You have proof?”

“Yes.” Illegally obtained but legal now that it was in his hands. After all, he was a Councilor entitled to the information. “Several data files.”

“It's much too early for live trials,” Nikita continued. “The saboteurs will have their work done for them if the populace, and more importantly, the major families, refuse to support the Protocol because it appears dangerous.”

He concurred. To succeed, Protocol I had to be proven safe—in terms of both Psy minds and their psychic abilities. “There has already been one fatality. If the news gets out…”

Nikita placed her arms behind her back. “It'll jeopardize the future of the entire operation. I assume you're working to track the ten involved?”

Kaleb nodded. “It's no use confronting Ming before we have more. We can't risk alienating him. If the Scotts seize majority control of the Council, it'll compromise a number of our interests.”

“Agreed.”

“There is another possibility,” he said. “That the Scotts have inserted their influence into Ming's project without his knowledge—they've already shown a willingness to act without majority authorization.”

“That would shift Ming's allegiance, or at least limit his support for their motions.” Nikita seemed to come to a decision. “We'll discuss our next step when we have more data, unless you see a cogent reason for not waiting.”

“There's no need to rush.”

“I see a lot of changelings down there.” She nodded at the square. “How's the racial situation in your town?”

Moscow was hardly a town, but he let it go. “Stable. The local wolf pack is at present fighting for dominance against a well-established bear clan. As a result, they have no interest in Psy affairs. The humans pose no threat.”

“They never do.” Nikita dismissed the entire race with the flick of a hand. “Before Sascha dropped out of the Net, we learned that changeling packs aren't as isolated as previously believed—I'm now investigating how far that goes. Any indication your wolves might be linked to the SnowDancers?”

Kaleb shook his head. “BlackEdge has no connections outside the immediate region. They're too busy with petty local matters to think big.”

“Let's hope they remain that way.” Nikita started toward the door.

He fell into step beside her. “Leaving so soon?”

“I have a meeting in San Francisco in a few hours.”

“The airjet should get you there in plenty of time.” It was one of his, designed and built by a corporation of which he had majority control. “I'll keep you updated. I'm sure you have enough to handle in relation to the execution of the plan targeting DarkRiver and the SnowDancers.” It was a very deliberate comment on his part.

As Nikita had made clear, she didn't support the Council's plan. However, she'd been placed in charge of it because Shoshanna had made a point of saying that as the mess was in Nikita's backyard, she should be the one to clean it up. Especially since her daughter was part of the problem.

Nikita gave him a chilly Psy smile. It meant nothing, of course. “If stage one of the plan works as expected, we should see a number of changeling fatalities within the next few hours.”

The morning
after she'd witnessed Judd's dream, Brenna left the cabin for a walk. The air was fresh and crisp under the snow-heavy trees. Judd had already gone to check things at the boundary line, leaving her plenty of time to think.

You aren't seeing what I'm telling you.

Judd believed she was viewing him through rose-colored lenses, but he was wrong. She understood what he'd done, realized the darkness inside of him. But she'd also looked true evil in the face, had had the sliminess of it invade her mind. She knew categorically that Judd was not cut from the same cloth.

Not that his confession had come as a surprise. She'd sensed from the start that he was no angel. Still, he'd attracted her, the changeling heart of her sensing a strength in him that would complement and nurture her own. It had never scared her that—

Something made a sound to her left.

Freezing, she sniffed the air and felt her eyes widen. Her first instinct was to call out to Judd, but she had no idea of his exact location. Neither could she backtrack to the cabin—she'd walked a long way and was now cut off from both it and the weapons hidden inside. She couldn't even defend herself by going wolf.

Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to think past the bitter taste of rage. If the intruders scented her, she was dead. Right then, she was downwind, a small advantage—she could probably take out two or three of them before they realized they were under attack. The trouble was, there were a lot more than three hyenas out there. And while hyena changelings were often cowards one-on-one, they wouldn't hesitate to go for a more dominant target if a pack of them found you alone and unprotected. She'd be torn to pieces in minutes.

Moving carefully to avoid betraying her position, she thanked the heavens for the firs that provided cover. Ordinarily, she would've gone up into those same trees, but that would trigger snowfall from the branches.

Snow!

Brenna, you idiot!
It was a mental curse as she looked behind her and saw the solitary trail of footprints. She didn't have time to go back and erase them, but she made sure to cover her tracks from that point onward. Too late. Too slow. She was far too slow. She considered breaking out into a full run, but with so many of them, they would run her to ground before she reached safe harbor.

Brenna
.

It wasn't exactly a sound in her head, not a spoken word in any way. She couldn't explain how she heard it, but she knew it was Judd. It “smelled” like him.

Still. Be still.

An illogical request, but she trusted him—and his abilities—too much not to realize he had to have a plan. She froze, even though the hyenas were getting perilously close.

Open.

She felt a push on her mind. Her mouth dried, her heart closed into a tight shell, and fear bloomed on her tongue.
No!
She didn't want anyone in her mind ever again.

Alright. But don't move. Trust me.

The hyenas were going to see her at any moment, but she obeyed his order. And when her skin seemed to
shift
over her skeleton, she tried not to panic. Then she felt her bones change shape in a way that wasn't anything similar to how they transformed during the shift from human to animal. It was too much. Her reactions were born from instinct, hard to control under normal conditions, impossible in a situation where she was already hovering an inch from panic. She would've fought then, disturbed the quiet and given herself away, but he set her free.

She hit the ground hard despite the thick layer of snow. Blinking away the strange disorientation that made it hard to focus, she got up, shook her head, and prepared to run…but found the landscape startlingly unfamiliar. She was no longer anywhere near the hyenas. Safe, she was safe. But Judd was nowhere to be seen.

“Where are you?” She scanned the area around her, but the snow lay unbroken. He hadn't passed through here. It took real effort for her to think past the wolf's need to go to Judd's aid, to help defend their territory, but she hunkered down to wait.

As things stood, Judd knew where she was and could find her more easily if she didn't move. It was common sense. That didn't make her any less scared for him. He was out there alone against a pack of hyenas—hyenas who should've been too terrified to come anywhere near SnowDancer land. Their boldness told her they were packing weapons more dangerous than simply claws and teeth. “Come on, Judd,” she whispered. “Where are you?”

 

Judd
was on the verge of flaming out—what he'd done with Brenna had taken a massive amount of energy. He briefly considered teleporting a gun from the cabin using what power remained, but realized the act would wipe him out and leave him a sitting duck. In human terms, he was running on fumes. An hour at most and he'd collapse on the psychic plane, his abilities useless for the next twenty-four hours or more. The physical collapse would hit a few hours after the psychic one.

If this had happened while he'd been uplinked to the PsyNet, his psychic star would've flamed red for a few seconds just before he crashed, long enough for others to notice and use to their advantage. That was why Psy went to great lengths to avoid flameouts. It left them vulnerable—while their basic shields would hold, the more sophisticated protections tended to collapse, giving enemies a near defenseless victim.

Out here, however, even his family might not notice his condition. Because of the difficulty of keeping three immature minds from inadvertently dropping out of the LaurenNet and attempting to rejoin the PsyNet, they had been training Sienna, Marlee, and Toby to stay out of the LaurenNet as much as possible. It was a hard task—living on the psychic plane as well as the physical was natural for them. But their safety had to come first.

Having circled close to the intruders, he allowed his body to lean against a tree. While the physical collapse could be held off, it would sap his energy bit by bit, so he had to conserve it where he could. That collapse itself was nothing normal. Most Psy only flamed out on the psychic level. It was the nature of his abilities that altered things for him.

It makes you vulnerable.
Ming LeBon's mental voice, the voice that had shaped so much of who Judd had become.
However, as it appears to be an unavoidable side effect of your abilities, I suggest you train your body to survive on the bare minimum of energy.

Judd had been fourteen at the time and in thrall to his mentor. Ming possessed one of the strongest minds he had ever seen. The senior Arrow's ability in mental combat was unparalleled, but what set Ming apart from his peers was that he'd trained his body, too. He had a deadly facility in several human disciplines, including karate and the rare form known as katana.

The Way of the Sword.

Except that it used no blades but those created by skillful use of the body, honing men to a lethal edge. Judd had studied under Ming, then later under a human teacher, spending an entire year in the freezing chill of Old Sapporo. The abandoned Japanese city was so inhospitable, it was populated only by those who wanted to push their bodies to the limit, such as the disciples of katana. Though the highly offensive martial art—developed during the Japan-Korea war over half a century ago—could be used to kill, its worth to the Psy lay in the extreme mental and physical discipline it taught.

But even katana only went so far with a Tk on the edge of a flameout. Expanding his senses, he began to collect data. He wasn't changeling so it could've been difficult for him to identify the exact species, but some of the hyenas had shifted to their animal forms. There were twenty in the scan radius and many registered as carrying weapons. He needed a closer look at those weapons.

Making a quick decision, he moved closer, using what he'd learned in Old Sapporo to check the creeping shroud of exhaustion and keep his brain functioning. Once he'd positioned himself in the direct path of one of the hyenas in human form, he leaned against another tree and did the thing that only his subdesignation could. He blurred his body, becoming effectively invisible. It had been postulated that this aspect of his ability sprang from the same core as that of the F-Psy, that he was actually bending time.

Concentrate.

Wandering thought patterns were a sign of oncoming flameout. He managed to drag his mind back under control in the nick of time. A hyena male walked past, a weapon strapped to his back and another in his arms. Pinpoint migraines began to spark behind Judd's eyelids, but he maintained the “invisibility” until the invader was well out of range. Then he focused on getting out of the hot zone without leaving a trail.

The explosion came half an hour later.

 

Brenna heard
the bang before she saw the smoke spiral up into the sky. The urge to head in that direction was so overwhelming that she had to grit her teeth to restrain it. Her family had not raised a stupid wolf. With the snow, the blaze wouldn't accelerate. Furthermore, the wood was treated to be flame-retardant
and
she had neither the firepower nor the backup to take on a whole pack of those damn scavengers.

But her frustration at being so helpless wasn't the worst of it—she was scared to death that they had gotten to Judd. Then he walked out of the forest. Racing to him, she put a hand on his arm. “What happened?” She took a second look. “Judd, your eyes!” They were pure black, no whites, no irises.

“They blew up part of the cabin,” he said, ignoring her cry. “Given the noise, SnowDancer patrols are probably already heading this way.”

“I know
that
!” Shock submerging under worry, she scanned his ashen face. “I want to know what happened to you!”

“I used too much power.” Clipped words.

“When you got me out.” It wasn't a question. All those weeks of healing with Sascha had taught her a few things about how Psy gifts functioned. “Because I wouldn't let you into my mind. I'm right, aren't I?”

“That's not an issue we have time to discuss.” He jerked his head in the direction of the cabin, his eyes beginning to fade back to normal. “My tactical knowledge says the hyenas are long gone by now. We should head back there to meet whoever responds.” He began moving.

She ran to catch up. “Are you going to be able to cope? Your eyes…”

He gave her a sideways glance so full of male arrogance, the wolf in her wanted to snarl. “Psy eyes do that when a large power expenditure is involved—I'm fully capable of making the necessary report.”

“I should learn to keep my worry to myself where you're concerned,” she muttered.

“That would be wise.”

Scowling at his back, she decided to concentrate on something that didn't make her want to go clawed. “How did you get me out?”

“Teleportation.”

Utter silence in her mind, the cold emptiness of angry fear.

If he could teleport, that meant he was a telekinetic. A very strong Tk. Like
him
. The butcher. “When were you going to tell me?” Her heart felt like a block of ice.

“Never,” he answered in a clipped tone. “You're not rational about Tk-Psy and your prejudice bleeds onto others.”

She didn't quite understand what he was getting at, but she knew it wasn't complimentary. “This is between you and me, no one else.”

He stopped and faced her, perfect Psy beauty and ruthless control. “No, Brenna. It's about you, your family, the entire den. You start hissing at me and they'll follow.”

“Since when do you care what anyone thinks?”

“Since I realized that Marlee is beginning to exhibit signs of having at least some Tk in her skill set. It didn't show up in her initial tests but that occasionally happens with children who are very strong in another ability. But now it's rising to the surface.”

Anger flashed to guilt, then back again. “She's a baby. No one in the den would go after a pup!” Her face burned at the idea, but at the same time, something else was trying to rise, information she couldn't quite grasp. All she knew was that it had something to do with the connection between Judd and Santano Enrique.

He folded his arms. “She's not going to stay a baby. If you poison the den against telekinetics, where's that going to leave her when she grows up?”

Her claws threatened to release and the rage washed away that ethereal piece of knowledge floating in her brain. “That's what you think of me? Well, fuck you!” Spinning away, she sprinted the rest of the way to the cabin fueled by red fury. It didn't improve her mood to realize that Judd kept pace. He was Psy—he shouldn't have been able to keep pace. But damn if she was going to ask him what he was doing to make himself changeling-fast. “The bottom-feeders are gone.” Fragments of wood and glass lay scattered on the snow, the air thick with the astringent scent of explosive chemicals. But curiously, the cabin wasn't too badly damaged—the blast had only taken out one discrete section.