The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (56 page)

Jack touched his son’s knee, fear a knot in his throat. “Did you do something, Will?” It had been two months since the dead birds on the lawn. Not one or two, dozens of them. All appearing as if they’d simply fallen from the sky.

Will had woken screaming in terror that morning, and while Melissa had cuddled his shivering form, Jack had gone out into the dark edge of dawn to prove to Will that it had only been a dream. He’d found a nightmare instead. But Jack had buried the birds before full light, and Will had never known. “Come on, son,” Jack said, raising one little hand to his mouth for an affectionate kiss. “Did you break a window or something?”

Will shook his head. “No. I haven’t done anything yet.”

Something in those words made Jack’s heart chill. “You think you’re going to do something?”

“I’m bad,” Will whispered. “I’m bad inside.”

“No, Will, you’re not.” He would not allow his son, his precious child, to become a victim of his own gifts. “You’re a good boy.”

But tears filled Will’s eyes. “Help me, Daddy.”

Katya’s question haunted Dev as he finished working out that night, trying to exhaust himself in an effort to forget the delicate heat of her hands, the lush warmth of her body. But the exercise did little to assuage his frustration. He was angry at fate itself—why bring Katya into his life if he was meant only to destroy her?

“Dev.”

He looked up, having sensed her arrival. “What’re you doing here?” It had taken all his control to leave her that afternoon instead of pressing her to the glass and taking her in every way his body demanded . . . then doing it again. “Go back to bed.” Because he couldn’t trust himself. Not after walking away twice, and now with the night a secret blanket that hid them from the world.

“I need to ask you something.” Stepping into the gym, she padded across on bare feet, until they were separated by only a single step.

His fingers curled into his palms as she looked up, eyes luminous. “I’ve been thinking about what happened this afternoon.”

“Katya—”

“
No,
it’s my turn to speak.”

He gave a short nod, unable to talk past the need in his throat.

“I’ve decided,” she said, “that I was shortsighted. I want—”

“No.” Gritting his jaw, he went to walk past her.

She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You don’t know what I was going to ask.”

Pushing her back against the wall, he found he’d fisted his hand in her silky soft hair. “I know what a woman’s got on her mind when she looks at me that way.” And his body was only too happy to reciprocate. Except he couldn’t do that to her. She had no idea what she was asking for, what she was risking.

This afternoon, he’d been drunk on his hormones, but if he did this tonight, it’d be a conscious choice, one that would haunt him forever. “The answer is no. It’ll continue to be no.”

A blush of color across her cheekbones, so fucking innocent he called himself every name in the book for letting things get this far. But then she parted her lips and he couldn’t remember what he meant to say.

“Why not?” she insisted. “There’s a connection between us.”

It was all he could do not to take what she was offering. His cock pounded with every beat of his heart, hard and painfully ready to take her,
mark
her. “Have you ever been with a man, Katya?”

“You know I haven’t.”

Yeah, he knew. Psy didn’t believe in such intimate pleasures. “Then let me tell you something—we do this, it won’t only be physical sensations you experience.”

A steady look, but he felt the fine tremors that snaked over her body, they were pressed so close. “I’ll feel more bonded to you.”

“That’s one way to put it.” He couldn’t let go, couldn’t step back. “This afternoon, you learned to hate me a little.”

She didn’t answer.

“Tell me.”

“Yes,” she said, jaw setting.
“Yes
.
”

It felt like a fucking lance through the heart, for all that he’d known it already. “We do this, think about how badly it’s going to hurt when I have to throw you into a cell.”

She physically flinched. “I know things will change. I’m ready.”

It would be so easy, so very easy to let her talk him into it. “Are you?” He spoke with his lips against hers. “Or are you just hoping I’ll spare your life if we fuck?”

Her entire body went stiff at the deliberately crude statement. “Let me go.”

He gripped her hip instead. “Hate me enough yet, or—”

“You’ve made your point!” She pushed at his chest with angry hands. “Now let me go!”

He heard the break in her voice, and it broke him, too. “God help me, but I can’t.” Crushing her to him, he held her tight.

She didn’t stop fighting till he whispered, “Shh, I’ve got you.”

A pause. “You said that to me before.” Her arms slipped around him, her voice a trembling whisper. “You saved my life that night.”

Unspoken were the words that it was a life he could no longer protect.

When they slid to the floor, he leaned back against the wall and held her as close as humanly possible. They sat that way for hours, until dawn streaked its way past the horizon.

“The situation in
Sri Lanka,” Shoshanna said to Henry, “were you responsible?” They’d been a team for years, working to increase their combined power in the Council, but after the incident with Ashaya Aleine’s prototype implants, he’d changed. She was certain he’d sustained brain damage when the implants malfunctioned, but instead of lessening him, whatever had happened had unleashed another part of his personality—one that could lead to their downfall.

“And if I was?” He sat across from her, eyes dark, without expression.

She checked her shields to ensure they were locked tight. Henry was a telepath, 9.5 on the Gradient. He could sweep through a mind with lightning speed. Satisfied she was still safe, she sat back in her own chair. “It wasn’t you,” she said slowly. “You’re smart. You learn from your mistakes.” He’d never confirmed it, but she knew he’d been behind the spate of public violence by Psy approximately two months ago, violence that had led to renewed support for Silence. “Given the way the PsyNet functions, violence will only spawn more violence. And you want Silence to hold.”

“Not just hold, my dear,” he said, the endearment meaningless. They’d both learned to use such little “humanisms” to make themselves more palatable to the human and changeling media.

“No?”

“No. I want it to consume the Net, until there isn’t even a whisper of dissent.”

Pure Silence was what Shoshanna wanted as well, but . . . “What about the Council?”

“Perfect Silence will eliminate the need for a Council.” He met her gaze. “We’ll all think with one mind.”

“Impossible.” For the first time, she wondered if Henry would go so far as to kill her to achieve his aims. “Without an implant that impels a merge, we’re too individualistic to form a universal mind.”

“One of us will be proved right, one not. Shall we wait and see?”

She gave a slow nod, moved to the true reason she’d asked to meet. “We’re stronger together than we are apart.”

“Yes.”

“Then we remain a team?”

“No. We remain two Councilors with aligned goals.”

That wasn’t quite what she was used to hearing from Henry. However, it was far better than the current situation. “Agreed.”

“I believe Nikita may have something of the same arrangement with Councilor Krychek.”

“Nikita would strike a deal with Satan if he existed, so long as it advanced her business interests.”

“And you wouldn’t?”

“Of course I would.” She rose from the chair. “That’s how I became a Councilor.”

“Have you been able to speak with Ming?”

“He knows we utilized the prototype implants without authorization. He won’t be swayed to our side without considerable effort.” She paused, considered whether to share the information, and decided to go ahead. “I don’t believe all the scientists died when the Implant lab exploded.”

“Highly likely. Ming wouldn’t waste so much potential, even to make a point.”

“It’s possible he may be developing an implant of his own.”

“We’ll find it before he finishes,” Henry said with sublime confidence. “That kind of a secret is near impossible to keep. Even you could not do that.”

Henry waited for her to respond. She let him.

Finally, he rose and walked to stand in front of her, a tall man with mahogany skin whom the human media had dubbed “patrician.” She cared nothing for that, only for his mental and political strength.

Now, he proved his political acumen by saying, “The Sri Lankans broke naturally—the anchor in that region is fluctuating.”

Anchors, as Shoshanna well knew, were integral to the functioning of the PsyNet. Since anchors were born, not created, they were identified young and trained to use their abilities to merge with the Net to ensure it remained stable. But those unique Psy also had a habit of failing spectacularly—a disproportionate number of serial killers had come out of the pool of anchors in recent times.

“Do we need to bring it up at the next Council meeting?” With some things, there was better political mileage in taking the initiative.

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Henry, we need the anchors.” They couldn’t simply be rehabilitated like the others who broke. Rehabilitation left very little of a functioning mind, and the anchors needed those minds to do their jobs.

Henry’s expression didn’t change. “He can be brought under control with a little judicious telepathic reshaping.”

“That could break his mind.”

“I know what I’m doing—I’ve had some practice.” He stared at her. “If we succeed, we’ll have an anchor who’s bound to us. That part of the Net would be ours to control.”

And if they failed, no one would know. “Do you need my assistance?”

“Keep snowing the media. I’ll do the rest.”

As Henry left her office, Shoshanna did a reassess ment. Their previous relationship had been to her advantage, as Henry had obeyed most if not all of her commands. However—and if Henry continued to remain rational—this new partnership could yield even greater fruit.

Henry might not want to rule, but she did. She also knew how to take care of extraneous matter after it had outlived its use.

Dev could
still feel the soft curve of Katya’s body tucked against his as he ushered her into an apartment on the twelfth floor of the Shine building. The drive into Manhattan had been largely quiet, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she’d given up her plans of escape—of going north.

Her eyes went to the door as he put down her bag. “You’re going to lock me in, aren’t you.” Not a question, though it was framed as one.

It hit him hard, a two-fisted punch—because no matter his awareness of the calculated evil that had brought her into his life, Katya continued to cut through his defenses like a scalpel, leaving him exposed. “I can’t have you out of Shine control.” She could be programmed to seek and destroy files, information, specific individuals.

“Out of your control you mean.” Her jawline firmed, her delicate bone structure defined against skin that had begun to gain the golden flush of health.

“Yes.” Lying would achieve nothing. “My people come first—it’s something you can’t ever forget.”

She gave him her back as she turned to walk toward the windows. “How long do you plan to keep me here?”

Fighting the instinct to bridge the distance, to capture her between his arms as he had in Vermont, he thrust both hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “For now—at least a week.”

“That’s not an answer, Dev.”

“You know the answer.” He stared at the slender line of her back, willing her to face him, make him feel less like a monster. “You’ve always known the answer.”

She pressed her hand flat on the glass. “You’ll keep me here as long as it takes. Even if it takes years.”

It was a kick to the gut, the utter emptiness of her voice. For the first time, she sounded like one of the Psy. As if he’d destroyed something in her. “It won’t,” he said. “We’ll have answers sooner rather than later.” He’d set every single one of his contacts into play.

“Then what?” Finally, she turned to look at him, her eyes as empty as her voice. The woman who’d come to him last night was just . . . gone. “As long as I’m connected to the PsyNet, I’m a threat. And there’s no way to pull me out of the Net. Stalemate.”

 

 

 

Dev pushed
through the door to another apartment well over an hour later. He’d meant to head there straight after he’d shown Katya to her room, but he’d been in no mood to talk to a traumatized child. Not when he felt like an abuser himself.

His lips set in a tight line. That wasn’t coincidence. Nani had been right—someone had put a lot of thought into creating Katya, giving her vulnerabilities designed to play on his deepest instincts. He could deal with sniveling mercenary traitors without losing sleep, even with those who were driven by other hatreds. But he had a big fucking blind spot when it came to women who’d been battered and abused.

Knowing that should’ve neutralized his response to the woman he’d locked into the twelfth-floor suite, but all it did was make him aware of the depth of his weakness.

“Dev.”

Jerking up his head at the sound of Glen’s voice, he glanced toward the open doorway to the left. “Kid in there?”

Glen gave a small nod. “We moved him up here after he started to regain consciousness. It’s more homey than the clinic.”

“That’s fine—but you’ve got guards on him?” Dev wasn’t worried about the kid’s physical strength—it was the psychic plane that concerned him. Some of the New Generation abilities could be lethal.