Allegiance of Honor

Chapter 27

ZIE ZEN SAT in a chair outside Ivy and Vasic’s home, his left hand on his cane, and listened to a young brown-haired boy play under the fiery light of the setting sun. Tavish was laughing more and more as the days passed, and today as he chased a small white dog through the orchard, he hadn’t stopped. The sound was joyous music.

Sunny, I wish you were here to see this.

The only woman he had ever loved had wanted hope for their people, wanted joy. Instead, she’d been worn away by their need until her heart no longer beat, until there was no strength in her to breathe. His sweet, gentle Sunny. An empath during the time when the PsyNet turned against empaths, when it wanted only cold Silence. That choice had killed her, and in so doing, killed the best part of him, too.

“Grandfather.” Another empathic voice, sweet and hopeful and with a generous warmth that sank into his aching bones. “You’re cold. Here.”

Only when Ivy put the afghan over his knees did he see that his hand was trembling on the cane despite the sunshine that poured down on him, his wrinkled skin bearing the marks of age. “Thank you, Daughter.” He touched his hand to Ivy’s soft tumble of curls as she bent over to arrange the afghan, this woman who had brought his son alive.

Vasic might not be that in absolute terms, their relationship two generations removed, but he was Zie Zen’s son of the heart. And he’d done what Zie Zen couldn’t—Vasic had saved his empathic mate, kept her from being crushed under the endless need of their people. A people who had finally remembered that the Es were treasures to be cherished.

It eased Zie Zen’s century-old pain to feel her touch, to know that Sunny’s dream was on the road to coming true.

Ivy smiled, the translucent copper of her eyes luminous and her affection and love for Zie Zen an open caress against his senses. Empaths—they had no sense of self-preservation. Never had. Probably never would.

“Would you like a hot drink?” she asked as the sun kissed the gold and cream of her skin.

Sunny’s hair had been yellow cornsilk, her eyes blue, but she’d been this way, too, always watching out for others. It was a need in an empath, this nurturing drive. “No,” he said. “The throw is enough.”

“Ivy!” Tavish rushed pell-mell toward them, the knees of his beige corduroy pants stained with grass and dirt. “Ivy! Ivy!” The seven-year-old all but ran into Ivy’s legs, throwing his arms around them in wild affection.

Laughing in a way that told the child he was loved, his affection welcome, she ruffled his hair. “Careful, speedy.”

Tavish tipped back his head, looked up. “Did you finish Grandfather’s birthday dinner?”

“I did.” Ivy met Zie Zen’s eyes. “I hope you’ll like what I’ve chosen.”

“You could do nothing that would displease me, Daughter.”

Ivy’s gaze shone wet before she was distracted by two words from the Arrow child who now called the orchard home, and who looked to Ivy and Vasic as family. As parents who wouldn’t reject him the way his birth parents had done when he proved to have a dangerous telekinetic gift. “Wanna play?” Wariness was a sudden intruder lurking in eyes of hazel mixed with brown.

Then Ivy leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. “Why not?”

Wariness wiped away with a smile that was a burst of starlight, Tavish went to run back to the ball the small white dog, Rabbit, was guarding. He paused midstep, came to Zie Zen, his pace far more sedate. “Grandfather,” he said respectfully. “Would you like to play, too?”

Zie Zen raised his hand to the boy’s cheek, touched the innocent warmth of it, and thought of the children he and his Sunny might’ve created had they lived in another time. “I will enjoy listening to you play, Grandson.”

Tavish made an aborted movement forward, seemed to decide to do it, and threw his arms around Zie Zen. Zie Zen closed his own around the boy, this small, bright spark of life who had learned to laugh under Zie Zen’s eyes.

“I’ll be over there, Grandfather.” Tavish pointed toward the start of the orchard after the embrace came to a natural end. “You can call me if you need me. Okay?”

“You are a good grandson.”

Flushing with pride, Tavish took his leave and ran off.

Ivy followed at a slower pace after picking up Zie Zen’s fallen cane and placing it against the side of his chair. She was soon caught up in the game, however, one that seemed to involve kicking the ball between two trees, with Rabbit in hot pursuit of the black-and-white object anytime it went past an invisible boundary.

When Vasic ’ported in right beside Ivy, she turned to kiss him in a motion so fluid, it was as if the two were one being. Zie Zen didn’t need to be an empath to sense her piercing love for Vasic, or Vasic’s passionate devotion to her. Zie Zen’s son of the heart loved his empath as Zie Zen had loved his Sunny.

Even as the couple drew apart, Ivy’s palm yet on Vasic’s chest, Tavish came to tug at Vasic’s hand and ask him to join in the game. Vasic touched that hand to the boy’s shoulder before turning to meet Zie Zen’s gaze. Grandfather, you are well? His telepathic voice was as pure as a remote lake of unbroken ice, but there was no cold within Vasic.

Not any longer.

I am very well, Son. And he was. The sunshine was warm on bones that felt far older than his years. It was the weight of sorrow, the weight of memory, the weight of promises he’d made to himself to see through his Sunny’s dream.

Here in this sun-drenched orchard while his son played with a child who had chosen Vasic as his father, and an empath laughed in unfettered joy, that dream came true. The Psy race was no longer a place only of chilling Silence, the PsyNet no longer a stark black-and-white landscape devoid of emotional bonds.

The time of endless darkness was over.

There, Sunny. It is done.

VASIC felt his grandfather go. No emotional bonds showed in the PsyNet but for mating bonds, not yet. But Vasic knew they existed, felt them in his soul. And he knew when his bond with his grandfather snapped forever.

Grief speared him as he teleported the short distance to Zie Zen.

His grandfather’s cane lay fallen on the ground, but Zie Zen’s head didn’t loll. It simply leaned gently against the back of his chair. His eyes were closed, the faintest smile on his lips. It was as if he were sleeping, but even as Vasic reached out his fingers to check his grandfather’s pulse, he knew Zie Zen was gone.

Ivy’s hand locked around his as it fell to his side, the words she spoke breathless from her run to Zie Zen and wet with tears. “He was at such profound peace before he went. It felt like . . . like a beautiful heartsong.”

Ivy would know, not only because Vasic’s wife was an E, but because Zie Zen had been linked to her in the Honeycomb. Vasic’s grandfather had smiled at Ivy’s request for a connection, then said, “I have come full circle at last, joined once more to an empath.”

“Grandfather?” Tavish’s plaintive voice snapped Vasic out of his shock and sorrow.

Reaching down, he picked up the child, his single arm more than strong enough for the task. He needed to hold the boy and Tavish needed to be held. “Grandfather’s left us, Tavish,” he said, finding it difficult to speak but knowing that at this instant, the pain felt by the small vulnerable heart in his hold was more important than his own grief. “But he was ready to go.”

Ever since Zie Zen had told Vasic about his Sunny, Vasic had known that his grandfather was only counting time on this earth. The Psy race might not believe in an afterlife, but Zie Zen had believed his Sunny waited for him. He just had to finish his work here before he could go to her, to the woman he had always loved.

“But he can’t go!” It was a child’s angry cry. “Tell him to come back!”

Vasic felt Ivy’s love, the infinite gentleness of her, surround them both.

Reaching up to cup Tavish’s wet face, she shook her head. “We’ll all miss him desperately, but you see his smile? It means he was happy to go on his next adventure.” She was crying, too, made no effort to hide her tears.

Ivy. Vasic’s throat was too thick to speak. I need you.

His empath tucked herself against his chest a heartbeat later, wrapping her arms around him and Tavish both. It was enough to keep him going, so he could do what needed to be done.

He couldn’t cry, not then. He’d been an Arrow too long.

It wasn’t until deep into the night, the world silent and his mate holding his head against her shoulder, that Vasic Zen cried for the man who had made him who he was, a man who had lived a lifetime with his own grief and who had left the world a far better place than it had been before he first turned rebel.

ASHAYA received word of Zie Zen’s death directly from Ivy Jane. “He would’ve wanted you to know,” the empath told Ashaya before dawn the morning after Zie Zen’s passing, her eyes red and swollen on the comm screen.

“Thank you.” Ashaya’s own grief was a raw wave inside her. “You’ll let me know the funeral arrangements?” Under Silence, Psy had held no funerals, celebrated no lives, but Zie Zen deserved every honor they could do him.

He’d saved Ashaya’s son, saved Ashaya herself.

And they were only two of hundreds, perhaps thousands.

“Yes,” Ivy said. “You know more of a certain part of his life than we do. If you think there are others who should be told, please do it.”

“I will.” But first, after Ivy logged off, Ashaya needed to deal with the agony inside her. She slid down to sit on the floor of her home office, her arms curled around her knees. Sobs rocked her, when tears were things she’d never shed in the PsyNet.

It didn’t startle her when Dorian entered the room within seconds, though she’d left him fast asleep in their bed. Her mate had felt her sorrow, run to her despite the fact that his leg was still in a plascast. “Zie Zen’s dead,” she managed to say before she couldn’t speak.

Kneeling down beside her, Dorian held her against his chest and he let her cry.

“K-Keen . . .” Her son’s heart would be broken; she needed to get herself together so she could deal with his pain.

Dorian pressed a kiss to her temple. “I shut the office door when I walked in. He won’t wake.”

“I c-can’t stop,” she said at one point.

“You will when you’re ready.”

So she cried and she thought emotions were a horrible thing sometimes . . . but she wouldn’t trade them for cold peace. Never again. A life of freedom from chains psychic or emotional or physical was Zie Zen’s gift to her and she would honor it always.

HIGH in a skyscraper in New York, a woman who’d once been under Ming LeBon’s ugly control hung up the phone with a thickness in her throat. Ashaya was devastated by the news of Zie Zen’s death but she’d taken the time to call Katya. “I thought you’d want to know,” Katya’s friend and former boss had said.

Katya couldn’t believe Zie Zen was gone. He was like an ancient tree in the forest. Always there, offering shelter under its branches. It was near impossible to comprehend that the tree had fallen, leaving a gaping hole in their midst. She’d never been as close to him as Ashaya, but he’d had a profound impact on her life nonetheless—for it was Zie Zen who’d built the foundation on which every Psy rebel stood, whether they knew it or not.

Conscious her husband would want to be informed as soon as possible, she looked up his private diary and saw he was scheduled for a consult with the Forgotten’s head medic.

She knew what “consult” was code for, so instead of heading to the infirmary or Dev’s office space, she used her handprint to authorize the elevator to take her to a secret subbasement. Triple-shielded against interference, this was the space where the Forgotten ran experiments testing the limits of the new psychic abilities popping up among their people.

The elevator doors opened to reveal another locked door.

Scanning herself through using retinal fingerprinting as well as a voice code, she entered to find Dev and Glen the only two people in the cavernous gray space that always seemed cold to her.

Rubbing her hands up and down her upper arms, she nodded hello to the doctor, but stayed out of the way. Dev didn’t acknowledge her, likely couldn’t. Her husband was seated in a chair surrounded by complex monitoring equipment. Hooked up to them by multiple wires, he stared straight ahead at what looked like a computer set to solve logic problems.

As Katya watched, the computer’s behavior changed. It began to scroll data across the screen. Katya didn’t know what was happening but she knew Dev was behind it. He’d become part of the machine.

Gut clenched, she looked into his eyes. They were the same gorgeous brown with amber, gold, and bronze flecks that she loved . . . only ice-cold, no humanity, no warmth. “Dev,” she whispered, unable to hold back the visceral need to claw him back from the metallic ice of the machines.

Though she’d spoken at the lowest possible volume, his response was immediate. Lashes coming down, he said, “Katya, mere jaan.” A rusty voice, but his lips curved into a smile as his eyes warmed to shimmering gold on the upward rise of his lashes.

She could barely wait long enough for Glen to unhook him from the monitoring sensors. Wrapping her arms around him the instant he rose to his feet, she shivered and held him even tighter. “You’re so cold.”

Dev cuddled her to his chest. “I don’t feel it, but Glen says there’s a definite surface temperature drop when I interface with higher-level machines.”

“No need to worry though,” was the doctor’s cheerful addition. “His vitals carry on as per usual.”

Katya drew back, took one of Dev’s hands, and blew hot air on it while rubbing gently at his skin. “What about your mental state?” Her skin felt tight over her cheekbones, her heart that trapped bird that returned in times of greatest stress and fear. “What’s it do to you each time you become part machine?”

“Katya.” Dev tipped up her chin. “You keep me human, no matter how many machines I touch.”

Fear still knotted her gut. “You’re getting so strong.” He did things like turn on household computronics without even thinking about it.

The dark of his hair sliding forward, Dev bent so his forehead touched hers. “And I love you more each day. I’m in no danger of losing myself.”

His skin was warm now and whatever he’d done this morning, their psychic connection had never once flickered. She had to remember that, believe in that. Dev might be changing, becoming something new, but he was still the man who loved her.

He was also the leader of the Forgotten, a people who’d had far more dealings with Zie Zen than the rest of the world ever guessed. “I have sad news,” she said, her throat thick again. “We’ve lost Zie Zen.”

Dev’s grief was a rough, harsh thing, and it was painfully, rawly human.

ADEN didn’t want to deal with Trinity or Ming LeBon right now. He wanted to be there for his friend, to take care of details so Vasic didn’t have to. But Zie Zen had believed in Trinity, had spoken to Aden at length about it the last time they had a conversation.

It is a construct of raw hope, this Trinity Accord of yours. A bold, audacious, defiant thing that challenges the world to be better and demands that people be the very best they can be. Never let this construct fail, Aden, for so long as it stands, it broadcasts that challenge. Sooner or later, even the consciously deaf will have to listen.

For that reason and that reason alone, Aden forced himself to stare at the proposal that had arrived in the hour directly after Zie Zen’s passing, at a time when Vasic and Ivy had told no one but Aden and Zaira, and Ivy’s parents. At least Ming LeBon could be acquitted of the crime of trying to use Zie Zen’s death to his own advantage. That was the only good thing Aden could say about the letter that had gone out to every signatory of the accord.

Proposal for a European Alliance

The Trinity Accord presents a hopeful view of the future, but in the short time since its inception, it has already proven lacking in the basics and is a group clearly dominated by certain parties to the detriment of others. It is for this reason, and because Europe has needs Trinity simply will not be able to fulfill, that I am proposing a European Alliance.

The proposed alliance would encompass members from across the continent as well as the British Isles, and will provide a vehicle for better growth for all parties.

Membership in the EA will not preclude being a signatory to the Trinity Accord. The two organizations can coexist, though the EA is apt to be the far more useful tool for those who intend to do business in this part of the world.

—Ming LeBon

Aden knew the core of Trinity needed to respond to this, but he also knew that he refused to disrespect Zie Zen by playing politics today. So he’d have faith in his “bold, audacious, defiant” construct and in the people who’d helped him take it from idea to fruition.

He input a call.

Lucas was more than willing to handle the situation. “Anything Trinity or Ming related that manages to make its way to you, forward it to me.” The panther held Aden’s gaze, his own eyes solemn. “I heard. The world lost a hell of a man yesterday.”

That was when Aden realized that, of course, Lucas would know of Zie Zen’s passing. A child whose birth certificate listed Zie Zen as his father lived within DarkRiver. “Yes, it did. Thank you for handling the fallout from Ming’s EA proposal.” He knew the alpha had to still be dealing with tracking down those behind the abduction attempt on his child.

“None necessary.”

Signing off, Aden turned to find Zaira waiting for him.

She slipped into his arms, her own locking around him. “I’ve spoken to Ivy.” He couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew they remained shell-shocked from a loss no one had seen coming.

Zie Zen had always been there, until it seemed even the most Silent, most pragmatic Arrows had subconsciously believed it would always be thus, that he was a force of nature immune from time and age.

“I know what they need,” Zaira finished, her voice husky.

Aden nodded, then together, the two of them started to do what they could to help bear the load.

Chapter 28

HELPED BY FRIENDS who’d been there every step of the way, Vasic and Ivy held Zie Zen’s memorial service at the orchard, on a small rise awash in the sunshine his grandfather had loved. Once, when they’d spoken about it, Zie Zen had asked to be cremated and scattered on the winds as he’d done for his Sunny. But first, they would have this ceremony for the living who grieved for him.

Zie Zen had an honor guard of Arrows and empaths—and one gifted scientist.

Ashaya Aleine’s grief was as deep as Vasic’s, but she walked with pride for the man who had been far more to her than Vasic had ever known.

Another woman, her hair golden brown and her hands covered by black, stood waiting for the procession to reach the rise. Vasic had first met her in a different context, hadn’t understood how deeply she’d been entwined in Zie Zen’s quiet and far-reaching rebellion until she’d shown him the golden coin carried by only ten people in the entire world: people who’d been Zie Zen’s most trusted.

Vasic had one of those coins, too.

Clara Alvarez managed Haven, a place where fragmented F-Psy could live in peace—and where Samuel Rain currently made his home. She was holding herself in fierce check, but her features were strained and she stayed close to her husband, a respected prosecutor.

Next to that prosecutor stood another unexpected holder of a coin: Anthony Kyriakus, former Psy Councilor, current member of the Ruling Coalition, Vasic’s occasional ally, and a man who’d publicly opposed Zie Zen a number of times over the decades. Vasic had known the two were allies beneath it all, but until this instant, he hadn’t known how deep ran the trust between them.

Grandfather, I have a feeling I will never know all your secrets.

Ashaya’s son, Keenan, stood with Tavish. He cried, old enough to understand that the man he, too, had called grandfather wasn’t ever going to wake up. Tavish held the younger boy’s hand and told him what Ivy had said to him, while Ashaya’s mate, Dorian, stood behind both children, his hands on their shoulders.

Ivy walked with the honor guard, and she was Vasic’s strength, the gentle force that held everyone together that day.

And there were a lot of people.

Zie Zen hadn’t only been a man who loved a girl called Sunny and a boy called Vasic, he’d been one of the greatest statesmen of their race. Vasic had known his grandfather wouldn’t mind being farewelled without fanfare, but he’d also understood that there were others who needed to know of the passing of this great man. He’d asked Aden to release a single bulletin out into the world.

It had gone viral within five minutes.

Had they permitted it, thousands of people would’ve come here today, thousands of people whose lives Zie Zen had touched, made better. Even his enemies respected him, had sent words to acknowledge the loss of a man unlike any who had come before. The Net had gone silent in respect . . . then filled with stories of Zie Zen’s impact on people around the globe.

Vasic had seen nothing like it in his entire lifetime. Neither had the rest of the squad.

In the end, he and Ivy had made the decision to limit the funeral and memorial service to those closest to Zie Zen, the ones with whom Zie Zen had had the most intimate contact. The others had been invited to contribute their memories and thoughts about Zie Zen to an archive being curated by two librarians who were alive because of Vasic’s great-grandfather.

A hundred people stood here today.

Though Vasic’s heart was heavy, his voice raw, he spoke when it was time. Zie Zen would expect nothing less. “My grandfather lived in Silence when he was a man of passionate conviction not meant for cold emotionlessness, and he worked from within to change that which was broken.”

Vasic wouldn’t speak of Zie Zen’s Sunny, for those memories had been his grandfather’s alone to share. But he could acknowledge that Zie Zen had carried on for near to a century, even though his heart had shattered at twenty-three when his Sunny died. Even though he had missed her every moment of every day. “He never gave up and he never believed anything impossible. His courage was endless.”

Once, Vasic wouldn’t have comprehended the depth of his grandfather’s searing grief, or understood his infinite valor. Before Ivy. Before he knew what it was to be entwined heart and soul with another.

He reached for her with his mind, found her waiting even as her hand squeezed his tight, giving him the strength to continue. “But more than a great statesman,” he said, “Zie Zen was a great man. I am honored to bear his name. I hope I will do you proud, Grandfather.” It was too short an epitaph but it came from his soul.

A powerful silence fell, a hundred heads bowed in respect.

VASIC scattered his grandfather’s ashes the next dawn, Ivy by his side. “Good-bye, Grandfather,” he whispered. “I hope you find your Sunny.”

As Zie Zen’s ashes flew on the wind, so did the time of those who had been born in freedom, caged in Silence, only to see it fall. Now . . . now it was the time of those who had been born in Silence, fought for freedom.

It’s time for the mantle to pass. Zie Zen’s voice from a night when they’d walked the orchard together. The old must give way to the new.

Wisdom is never old.

Yes, but the young cherish what they’ve built. So build, Vasic. This is your time, Son. Gather your trusted allies, your gentle, fierce empath, and build your future.

“We will build,” Vasic promised. “Today and tomorrow and every day to come.”

Chapter 29

THE ARCHITECT OF the Consortium stared out a window, giving Zie Zen a silent moment of respect. Over the years, the man had been a thorn in the Architect’s side in countless ways, but he’d been an intelligent, brilliant thorn.

Had the Architect thought it possible the invitation would be accepted, Zie Zen would’ve been offered entry into the highest level of the Consortium. As it was, the Architect had sought to learn how to be a leader in the shadows by watching Zie Zen, who’d had decades more experience at being a power very few ever truly saw.

Zie Zen had fought for freedom, while the Architect fought for power, but only those without vision ignored the greatness in their midst.

“Good-bye, old enemy,” the Architect said as night fell beyond the window. “Let us see who attempts to fill your shoes.” Because the Architect needed to kill that person, as the Architect needed to kill Anthony Kyriakus. The PsyNet could have no more great statesmen respected by enemies and allies alike. Not if it was to fragment and unknowingly hand power over to the Consortium.

Changeling, Psy, and human alike believed Trinity protected them from the Consortium’s machinations, but the Consortium’s attempts to sow discord between various groups and promote general chaos had been just the first salvo. At their next meeting, the Architect intended to suggest the group move strongly and purposefully into phase two within the next six months, once the world was even more mired in the politics of Trinity.

That phase wouldn’t be scattershot. It had already been planned with clinical precision, its intent to purge the world of those who provided a foundation on which others could stand. Anthony Kyriakus was on the list for his charismatic ability to command attention from not just Psy but from humans and changelings as well.

In the Architect’s eyes, Anthony was more dangerous to the Consortium’s goals than Kaleb Krychek, because while Kaleb engendered fear in people that could be twisted if worked carefully, Anthony Kyriakus engendered heavily more positive emotions and responses.

He had become the trusted face of the Ruling Coalition.

Also on the Architect’s phase two list was Silver Mercant. No one much talked about Silver, because she didn’t seek the spotlight, but her quietly efficient management of the worldwide Emergency Response Network, or what the media had started referring to as EmNet, had gained her the trust of parties worldwide. There was also the little known fact that Silver Mercant was the scion of the Mercant family, Ena Mercant having skipped a generation when choosing her protégée.

The Architect had only recently realized the latter fact, after a passing comment by a Mercant who thought the Architect was an ally in a certain limited sense. And why not? After all, Ena Mercant herself considered the Architect a valuable connection and had maintained an open line of communication even when the Architect’s fortunes fluctuated over their decade-long relationship.

Some would say such a gesture of trust was a thing to be treasured. The Architect had other priorities. Do this right and the Mercants would never know the Consortium had gutted their next generation. Then, once the Consortium gained control and began to flex its shadow power, all it had to do was wait. Sooner or later, it would be offered access to the Mercant intelligence network in exchange for a percentage of that power.

That network would be worth the price.

As long as the Architect gave Ena Mercant no reason to believe her granddaughter’s death had been a political assassination, that death would soon be forgotten. A freak vehicular crash perhaps. For while the Mercants’ vaunted loyalty to one another was a clever bit of manipulation that made the family appear an impregnable unit, when it came down to it, Ena Mercant had always been a pragmatic woman.

The Architect didn’t foresee any problems if the plan was carefully executed.

Silver’s death would crash EmNet long enough for the Consortium to create emergencies where confusion reigned and promised help never arrived. The resulting cracks would be difficult to fix when the Consortium would be throwing chaotic event after chaotic event into the mix.

On the changeling side, Lucas Hunter was a problem. His Psy-Changeling child remained a symbolic threat, but the leopard alpha himself was an actual one. It was regrettable that the attempt to abduct the child had failed because had the Consortium had control of Nadiya Hunter, the Architect would’ve used her to control her father.

Because the most recent reports from the Consortium’s spies in Trinity showed that Hunter was steadily gaining the support of not just a dangerous number of changeling groups, but that he had the ear of many powerful Psy families as well.

Bowen Knight and Devraj Santos were also irritants to the Consortium’s goals, the reason the same in both cases. Humans had always been easy prey, partly because they weren’t united under any one banner. Bowen Knight was changing that far faster than even the Architect had predicted. With his passionate belief that humans deserved to stand alongside Psy and changelings on the world stage, the so-called security chief of the Alliance had a magnetism it had taken the Architect too long to understand.

As for the Forgotten, Devraj Santos was the vital force that kept them united. Without him, and given their geographic spread and disparate bloodlines, the Forgotten would dissipate into small, powerless cells. The Architect knew that because the Architect was no fool. There was a Forgotten in the Consortium’s inner circle, a cold-blooded individual who cared nothing for the Forgotten as a people.

Aden Kai and the Arrows would always be a threat, but the Architect had decided to cut the Consortium’s losses there for now. Eventually, when the Consortium held enough power behind the scenes, the Arrow Squad would either be made to see reason, or wiped out in a single, ruthless action.

In the meantime, assassinating Ivy Jane Zen would suffice. Aden Kai’s second in command was bonded with her, the bond apparently one of love and devotion. So, he would hurt. In the best-case scenario, he’d fall apart, leaving Aden with no deputy. The attack on Ivy Jane would also strike a secondary blow: The Architect accepted that empaths were necessary, but they needed to be kept in their place. Ivy Jane was too well known and too much a hero after the people she’d saved during the outbreaks.

Those six weren’t the only ones on the Architect’s list, but they were at the top. The assassinations would have to be spread out, made to look like accidents or illnesses. The Architect didn’t want credit. The Architect just wanted these problematic individuals erased from the playing board. As demonstrated by Zie Zen, a single strong-minded individual could change the course of the world itself.

When this was over, the Architect intended to be the only one standing.

All it required was patience and precision.

Chapter 30

HAVING POSTPONED NAYA’S visit to Nikita in the face of Vasic’s loss, Lucas used the time to hold a much-needed meeting with his sentinels. Naya was on a playdate deep in DarkRiver territory, while Sascha was working at the aerie with a comm conference scheduled for later in the day.

The two pieces of his heart were safe, and all intelligence from the Rats, as well as other sources, pointed to business as usual in the region. No whispers of mercenaries or other enemy incursions. So his pack was safe. The hunt for the ship meant to have carried Naya away from her home continued, but despite his primal need to destroy anyone who’d tried to harm his child, Lucas had never expected that hunt to be an overnight operation. The searches were running, the information filters all in place.

He lost nothing by pulling Dorian from his duties so this meeting could happen.

The alpha and sentinel relationship was critical to the health of a pack and, snarling need for vengeance or not, Lucas had no intention of allowing his to be damaged by a lack of care. For obvious reasons, he’d decided to hold the meeting at Mercy and Riley’s cabin. Mercy was not up to making the climb to his aerie, though he knew damn well she’d have given it a try had he been fool enough to schedule a meet there.

As for Riley, the lieutenant was nearby, having a sparring session with Indigo.

Now, Lucas called the meeting to order.

Mostly that involved telling everyone to stop trying to get Mercy to spill the beans on the number and sex of the pupcubs so DarkRiver people could win the betting pool.

Mercy, of course, wasn’t budging.

Seated on a comfortable sofa with her legs up on an ottoman Lucas had nudged over and her body leaning against Dorian’s—who had his arm affectionately around her shoulders and his plascast-covered leg on a matching ottoman—the redheaded sentinel just gave her fellow sentinels a feline smile and said, “Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t you hear?”

The others responded with creative threats that made her laugh. Then the entire group naturally fell quiet, their attention on Lucas.

He knew exactly what he wanted to discuss. “I’m fucking sick of people trying to hurt this pack.”

Growls filled the room, every single one of his sentinels in agreement.

“Zero tolerance,” Lucas said, making that call as alpha. “As of now, any individual caught planning or in the midst of trying to harm a DarkRiver child or adult will be executed. We might lose some intel in the process, but fuck that—I want these assholes to think a thousand times before they set foot on our land.” Some predators understood only violence.

“The mercenaries we’re holding, the ones who tried to snatch Naya,” Clay said from his position in an armchair opposite Mercy and Dorian. “What’re we going to do with them?”

“I’m not rational there,” Lucas answered with blunt honesty. “I want to tear them to shreds.”

Clay leaned forward with his hands between his knees, forearms braced on his thighs. “Sascha scrambled two of them. Permanently,” he said quietly. “Tamsyn confirmed it just this morning. We can ship them straight to a secure psychiatric unit.”

“Shit,” Dorian muttered. “Don’t tell Sascha. She’ll feel guilty when she has no reason to.”

Lucas was tempted to follow the sentinel’s advice, but keeping secrets from his mate wasn’t ever going to be on the agenda. “She’ll handle it.” It would stun and disturb her, but Lucas’s mate was strong and she understood what had been at risk. She’d used her claws in defense of her child and no one, not even Sascha herself, could see a crime in that.

Returning his attention to Clay, he said, “The others from the mercenary team?”

Clay shrugged. “I’m okay with an execution order.” His tone was cold, that of a man responsible for the safety of a little girl not so much older than Naya. “They did this for money, took the risk with open eyes.”

“Fuck, I want to do that, too,” Vaughn said quietly from his chair opposite Lucas, Mercy and Dorian on one side, Clay and Nathan on the other. “But news of the kidnapping attempt went international. Everyone’s waiting for the other shoe to fall.”

The jaguar pushed back the unbound amber of his hair. “We have to decide what impression we want to make on the world. There’s a fine line between fear that keeps our children safe and fear that turns DarkRiver from harsh but fair, to monstrous. You know most Psy and humans have difficulty understanding our laws.”

Lucas growled at his best friend, who, right now, was showing an acute grasp of politics. “We’d be handing our enemies a victory by alienating a massive swath of the world.”

Vaughn nodded. “The same doesn’t apply post-warning. At that point, people will blame the assailants for digging their own graves. Pre-warning . . . well, the mercenaries came knowingly into leopard territory. I say we claw them up enough that they’ll always bear the marks”—his own claws sliced out—“then we turn them over to Enforcement. Playing nice with local authorities while making it clear this is the last straw.”

“I like it.” Mercy nodded. “It’ll also calm anyone who might be worrying about our growing power in San Francisco.”

The reality, as demonstrated by the citizens who’d called DarkRiver rather than Enforcement when they saw the truck smash into Dorian’s vehicle, was that DarkRiver could rule San Francisco if it so wished. Lucas wasn’t interested in setting up a fiefdom, but he did want this city to be known as a leopard city, a place only the stupid would attempt to hurt.

Vaughn’s suggestion would achieve both those aims.

“Done,” he said. “I’ll mete out the punishment.”

Any one of his sentinels would’ve done it in a heartbeat, but these men and women had threatened Lucas’s cub. “Mercy, you set up the press conference. We’re going to make a statement tomorrow morning.”

No one would see an out-of-control leopard there. No, what they’d see would be a deadly predator in a suit. Smart and ruthless and no one you wanted to piss off—rather, a man you wanted to keep as a friend. Because he looked after his own.

Mercy made a note, her expression approving and her hand on the curve of her belly. There was no one on the planet as dangerous as a dominant predatory changeling woman whose cubs had been threatened.

Calmer now, he was about to move on to another matter when Nathan brought up Trinity. “Luc, what’s the response been to Ming LeBon’s proposal?”

Lucas smiled and, leaning back in his armchair, put his feet up onto the same ottoman as Mercy. “You should ask our communications expert. She helped me draft the official Trinity reply.”

Mercy bent her head and moved her hand in a flowery gesture, as if taking a dramatic bow. “While we laud former Councilor Ming LeBon’s initiative,” she recited in a deep voice, “Trinity is unique in its tri-racial structure and world-spanning network. Of course, those European signatories of Trinity who prefer to do business only with other local Psy groups are welcome to join what may well be a very useful entity in its own way.”

Dorian whooped and began to clap. “Tell me if I got the translation right: Hey, if you want to turn your back on changeling and human contacts, as well as on all contacts outside Europe, feel free to join this amusing little group formerly important Ming LeBon is trying to cobble together. The rest of us aren’t interested in those who aren’t fully supportive of Trinity.”

“Perfect.” Mercy winked.

Nathan was the only one who didn’t smile. “It’s a lot of power to have, Lucas,” his most senior sentinel said in a quiet tone that held a potent clarity. “Yes, Ming’s a monster, but it’s a slippery slope if the core members of Trinity start picking and choosing who gets to sign the accord and who doesn’t. That’ll lead eventually to a world divided in two.”

Lucas wished the sentinel wasn’t right, but even as he celebrated Ming’s slow downfall, he’d been struggling with the long-term ethics of the situation himself. “I don’t think we’ll ever get agreement on Ming.” The telepath had murdered too many, hurt too many, made too many enemies. Having him in Trinity would poison it.

Nathan nodded, his black hair threaded with a few rare threads of silver. “I know and I know Trinity is in the process of being built. But think about the foundation you lay.”

This was why Lucas was so damn glad Nathan had chosen to give Lucas his loyalty when Lucas became alpha. He’d lived longer, seen more, had a bone-deep maturity. He made Lucas think about his actions. “I’ve been considering proposing an adjunct status for cases like Ming’s.” Not for the ex-Councilor’s benefit, but for the reason Nathan had pointed out.

“It’d give the individual or group access to business contacts,” Lucas continued, “but they wouldn’t be considered a full signatory, would have no voting rights. Their adjunct status would be based on the fact that multiple other signatories have grave concerns about the sincerity of their application.” He breathed out, forced himself to continue, though his panther was growling and clawing at him.

This time, the human side had to take precedence. “If, after five years, they’ve upheld the values of Trinity and not caused any other signatory criminal harm, they would become a full member.”

Mercy was the one who broke the silence. “Will the others accept something like that?”

“I don’t know.” It’d be a hard battle, but Lucas would fight it. He had to or, as Nathan had pointed out, Trinity would be built on a foundation of exclusion rather than inclusion, negating the very reason it had been created. “I think the fact that Ming is too arrogant to ask again should make it easier.” No one else in the world was apt to incite this depth of negative reaction.

“We can fix any damage already done by making it clear that even when multiple current signatories have problems with an individual or a group, that individual or group will still be given a chance to prove their authenticity.”

Dorian was staring at Lucas. “I always knew you were tough, but you’re about to try to take on the wolves, the Arrows, the Forgotten, and God knows who else, all at once.” A sudden grin. “Forget brass balls. Those things are goddamn titanium!”

Laughter tore through the tension, and when Clay got up to make some coffee, Lucas asked for a double shot.

“Can you get me a glass of warm milk?” Mercy asked, then pointed a finger at a spluttering Dorian. “Not a word. I happen to have developed a taste for it.” A pause. “It’s weird.”

Nuzzling at her with the affection of a man who’d known her since they were children, Dorian said, “Dude, you’re growing tiny people inside you. You can be as weird as you like.” He rose to his feet as Mercy smiled. “I’ll get your milk.”

Only after everyone else was caffeinated did they return to pack business. Which happened to once again be connected to Trinity—but this time in a far less fraught way. One of the most basic tenets of the accord was that all parties could contact one another and open lines of communication existed for people across racial, pack, and family lines.

An unfortunate side effect had been a barrage of calls offering DarkRiver various “amazing” business “opportunities,” the offers made by Psy, humans, and changelings alike. Lucas had put Nate in charge of the flood because he not only had the most even temper of them all, he also had the experience to glean real opportunities from the dross.

“It’s died down a little,” Nate reported after retaking his seat, coffee in hand and the sleeves of his blue-and-red-checked shirt folded up. That shirt was clean except for a smear of purple near the collar where one of the twins had gotten jam on it while hugging him good-bye that morning.

“I’ve actually got two good ones to share.”

The first was from a tiny human company founded and run by a couple out of their own home. “Scratch-proof coating for wooden floors,” Nathan told them after introducing the founders. “They swore it’d work against changeling claws, so I had them send me a sample, put it on over a miraculously unscratched part of an upstairs room, then had the boys go to town on it.”

“I don’t have a cub,” Vaughn drawled, “but even I can tell that might not have been the best idea.”

Nathan grinned. “No, the twins understood this was a special treat. Any rampaging through the house and they’ll be facing their mother’s wrath.”

Saluting Nate with his coffee cup, Vaughn took the organizer the other man passed over, then moved to sit on Mercy’s other side. “Wouldn’t have expected a human company to come up with this,” he commented as he, Mercy, and Dorian studied the images on the organizer.

“Me either,” Nathan said, “but you can see it works. I tested it myself, too, to see how it held up against adult claws. Not a scratch.” He took a drink of his coffee before continuing. “I think we should set up a more in-depth talk with them, with an eye toward investing in the company.”

“Do it.” Lucas trusted Nathan’s judgment and if DarkRiver was going to continue to thrive, they had to be open to new partnerships and concepts. Because if Psy could be arrogant to the point of hobbling themselves, Sascha had made him realize that changelings had a parallel failing—a tendency to look inward.

Next, Nathan briefed them on the second possible investment opportunity, before Clay took over to talk about operational security matters. Then it was Dorian’s turn to update them on his hunt for the ship that had been meant to be Naya’s prison. That, of course, turned the mood angry again, as they all thought of what had almost happened.

“Look,” Mercy said afterward, her own anger a hot burn across her skin, “I know we have a ton on our minds and there’s all kinds of shit going down in the world, but we need to talk about this joint party.” She stroked her bump in a self-calming gesture. “It’s important.”

Lucas nodded. A changeling’s strength came from his family, and this celebration, it was all about family. Lose sight of that and they lost what made them changeling, leopard, DarkRiver. “The cubs and pups are excited for it.” The thought brought a smile back to his face.

“Riley’s got intel that says Ben, Jules, and Rome are already plotting a cake-eating contest.” As Mercy spoke, she stretched her ankles by flexing them back and forth.

“Wait.” Dorian peered at her toenails, currently painted a hot pink. “Did Riley do that? I mean since you can’t reach your toes?”

Every cat in the room stared, agog at the idea.

Mercy growled low in her throat. “If he did?”

“Huh?” Dorian scratched his jaw, then smiled that heartbreaker surfer boy smile that had charmed many a woman before he fell madly for his scientist mate. “I’d do it for Shaya if she was a crazy pregnant chick like you.”

“Watch who you call crazy, Blondie.” Mercy gave her best friend a death stare while the others grinned. “As it happens, it wasn’t my wolf. Anu came over with her kit.” She held out her hands. “I went for a metallic-blue accent nail on this end. See?”

Taking one hand, Dorian studied her fingertips. “Does this stuff last when you shift?”

Lucas coughed. “Back to the meeting. You two can have your beauty-therapy discussion later.” Catching the cushion Mercy lobbed at his head, he put it behind his back, then caught a cookie Vaughn threw over, the jaguar having sniffed out the stash Bastien had left Mercy. “Party. Go.”

“Right.” Mercy laid out her choice of location plus the general details of how she thought the event should be run. Then she brought up the guest list. “SnowDancer and DarkRiver yes, but do we want to invite our other allies, or those who’ve helped the pack or are connected to us in nonlinear ways?”

The question felt all the more significant after their discussion about Trinity.

Vaughn was the one who spoke, his voice holding a quiet intensity. “When Faith left the PsyNet, she did it believing she’d never again have any real contact with her father.” Eyes of near-gold met Lucas’s. “It turned out Anthony isn’t an asshole and he loves his children. I think it’d mean a lot to her to be able to invite her father to a pack function.”

Lucas knew Sascha wouldn’t be inviting Nikita, even had DarkRiver trusted the ex-Councilor not to turn around and stab them in the back. Their relationship was very different from the one Faith had with Anthony, but he could see Vaughn’s point.

“There’s also Kaleb Krychek,” he said. “Man can go wherever he wants, find whoever he wants, so there’s no security issue with him.” Not all teleporters could lock on to people as well as places, but Krychek definitely could. “He’s also been a source of assistance and information multiple times. And his mate is family through Faith.”

Vaughn nodded. “Sahara’s tightly linked to the Empathic Collective because of the work she does monitoring their work levels and collating reports on the health of the Honeycomb itself, but Faith still worries about her being isolated.”

Lucas had felt the same concern when Faith’s cousin went back to Krychek after a sojourn in DarkRiver. However, though the dangerous cardinal telekinetic wasn’t sociable by any measure, he appeared not to begrudge his mate the social or familial contact she needed to thrive—he’d teleported Sahara into DarkRiver territory multiple times so she could visit with Faith, Sascha, and her other friends.

“I don’t see a problem with inviting Sahara and Kaleb,” Dorian said. “And Faith’s father seems like one of the good ones. Shaya likes him.”

Clay simply nodded in agreement.

It was Nathan who spoke next. “I’m fine with inviting them, too, but we’ll have to change the location. Currently, while neither pack circle will be compromised, Mercy and Riley’s home will be—and they’ll have pupcubs there very soon.”

“That’s a big minus.” Mercy worried her lower lip. “The only other possible location is the empathic training compound, but they’re running full classes back-to-back.”

Lucas frowned. “I’m not sure that’s right. Give me a second.” Taking out his phone, he sent a message to Sascha, got a response back nearly immediately. “The current class closes in just over two weeks and the next one won’t start until two weeks after that. We can hold the event during the time the area is vacant.”

“Perfect.” Mercy patted her belly. “If these little guys are still snuggling inside, we’ll celebrate their impending birth rather than their actual birth.”

“And,” Clay said, “there’s no security issue with the people we want to invite. They all have to know the location by now.”

“Anyone else outside the pack we want to invite?” Lucas asked.

“Max and Sophia.” Clay placed his empty coffee mug on a nearby table. “They’re friends, but they’ve also earned an invite after the number of times they’ve quietly assisted the pack.”

“I think leave off the falcons and BlackSea this time around,” Nathan said. “They’re allies, but the relationship is still in progress in both cases. We’re better off sticking to one-on-one meetings for now.”

Mercy nodded. “I don’t think they’d expect an invite at this point.”

No one disagreed.

It was Clay who spoke next. “There’s another group that also won’t expect an invite but that I think has more than earned one—trouble will be convincing the wolves of that.”

In the end, they found themselves with a fairly limited list of outside-pack guests that Lucas would discuss with Hawke. This was a joint event all the way, so neither side would be making unilateral decisions. “If SnowDancer agrees,” he said, “we’ll probably end up hosting a few Arrows, too, courtesy of Judd’s connections.”

His phone beeped before any of the others could answer. It was an alert from BlackSea requesting that, as an ally, DarkRiver stand by for the next forty-eight hours ready to render assistance should it be required: I hope we need it, Miane had written. Because that would mean we’ve found Leila and are in the process of ripping another head off the hydra that is the Consortium.

Chapter 31

IVY GRIEVED WITH Vasic in the days following Zie Zen’s passing, but like him, she couldn’t switch off. They both had responsibilities, not just to Tavish and the squad, but to many others. In her case, that meant the health of her empaths and, of course, the tense issue of the hidden disintegration of the psychic fabric of the PsyNet, a disintegration that was weakening a psychic structure that supported millions of minds.

In Vasic’s case, it meant his duties as Aden’s deputy, as well as the commitments he’d made to friends and allies. It was on the day after they’d scattered Zie Zen’s ashes that Ivy, Vasic, Tavish, and Rabbit returned home from a morning walk through the fruit trees to find Miane Levèque had left a message on their comm and on the phone Vasic had forgotten in the cabin.

“Vasic, I know you lost your grandfather only days ago,” she’d said, her voice somber, “but we have what might be a real, viable lead on Leila. We need to move on it as soon as possible. If you can’t do it, I understand.” Compassion in the alpha’s tone, no judgment. “But please let me know within the hour so I can rework our plans.”

Ivy’s husband would’ve been justified in saying no, but he didn’t. He put on his Arrow uniform and slid a single gold coin into an inner pocket in memory of his grandfather. “If we save this BlackSea changeling,” he said, his voice potent with memory and with resolve, “we strike a blow to the Consortium. Zie Zen would’ve appreciated that.”

Because, Ivy thought, all of Zie Zen’s plans and intrigues had flowed from a single overriding goal: to return freedom to his people. “Yes,” she whispered. “He wouldn’t thank us for leaving a woman caged when we might be able to free her.”

Smoothing her hands over the front of his uniform, she carefully folded up and pinned the sleeve of his missing arm. Vasic could’ve had his uniforms altered so this wasn’t necessary, but with Samuel Rain continuing to experiment with prosthetics, he’d left it.

That choice said something powerful about the man she loved. Though he’d adapted to the loss of his arm to the point that the prosthetics often annoyed him, he kept giving Samuel a chance. All for a simple reason: the other man’s mind was such that it needed a challenge and this challenge kept him focused and mentally healthy.

“There,” she said after completing her self-appointed task. “You’ll be careful?”

Vasic cupped her cheek with his hand, his eyes a stormy gray today. Filled with echoes of grief. “Yes,” he promised. “I need to come back home to you.”

Ivy’s heart ached at the raw power of his words, at the love that lived in his touch. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to his palm. “Your grandfather was so proud of you, Vasic,” she said to him afterward, her eyes locked with his. “Don’t ever forget that.”

Drawing her close, Vasic held her for long moments. “You’ll take care on the PsyNet? This strange disintegration you showed me, it may be as insidious as the original rot.”

“I will, I promise.” Ivy had no intention of bringing their journey together to a premature end. Yes, there was grief here, but there was also love, laughter, hope. “I’m having a comm conference with Sascha and several of the other Es to brainstorm solutions and explanations.” She forced herself to step back. “I love you.”

You’re my heart, Ivy.

Holding the words close after he teleported out, Ivy sniffed back her tears, put a smile firmly on her face, and went to find Tavish. She and Vasic had permitted him to stay home from the Valley school to this point, but she decided that would change come tomorrow morning. Like any Arrow child, he needed the certainty of routine—and being with his friends would hopefully help take his mind off the loss their family had so recently suffered.

“Tavish? Rabbit?”

Scrabbling claws on the floor as a small white bullet shot out of Tavish’s room to come over to her, tail wagging. She knelt down and petted the dog who’d been with her since before she’d found her strength, who had, in fact, helped her find her strength with his own brave fight to survive. The act of stroking his fur comforted her as it had always done.

“What have you two been up to?” she asked Tavish when the seven-year-old came to the doorway.

“The schoolwork the teacher sent,” he answered, a faltering smile on his face. “Is Vasic gone?”

“Yes, we’re all getting back to work.” Giving Rabbit one final pat, she moved over to hug Tavish.

Rabbit had padded alongside her and now leaned his body against Tavish’s.

“I have to go to school tomorrow?” A quiet question with a tremor behind it.

Tavish had been abandoned by his family when he was signed over to the squad, at which point, he hadn’t been encouraged to form any bonds at all. Then had come this new family and a wary dawning of hope.

Zie Zen’s death had struck a harsh blow to that hope, but Vasic and Ivy were helping the boy work through it by always reiterating that unlike the members of his biological family, Zie Zen hadn’t chosen to leave him behind, that it had simply been time for the older man to travel on to the next stage of existence, whatever that might be.

Going down on her knees in front of the boy, Ivy took his hands in her own. “What did Grandfather always say?”

“That education is important, and that the man who has the most information is the man who can change the tides of the world itself,” Tavish repeated almost word for word.

It was clear he didn’t understand it all, but he understood enough. “So,” Ivy said, “school tomorrow.” She smiled. “Your friends are missing you, you know. The teacher told me.”

A whisper of a smile warmed Tavish’s eyes. “School tomorrow,” he agreed, then bent down to pet Rabbit. “Can you play with Rabbit and me today?”

“Not just yet.” Ivy kissed him on the cheek before rising back up. “I have a comm conference, then some other work to complete. But my mother would like your help in her garden. You can finish your schoolwork later.”

Tavish’s face lit up. Ducking inside his room, he came back out having changed into his designated gardening clothes and with a hat on his head. They picked up his child-sized gloves and tools from the outdoor shed before Ivy walked him over to her parents’ home. Her mother was already outside in the vegetable garden.

Thank you, she telepathed to the woman with the strong, rangy body who’d given birth to her.

Gwen Jane would never be the warm and cuddly epitome of the maternal instinct, but she’d fought for her child’s right to live and to be happy. As had Ivy’s father. She loved them with every beat of her heart.

It’s not an issue, her mother telepathed back. The child has a green thumb and a willingness to learn. And it’s useful to have a telekinetic around when I need a spade or forget my gloves in the house.

Ivy’s lips twitched. She was certain her mother was developing a sense of humor, but she was never quite sure. “Have fun,” she said to Tavish, who was already pulling on his gloves and getting ready to weed.

She’d asked her mother to watch him until noon because the comm conference she was about to have was nothing a child should accidentally overhear. Especially not a child whose mind was anchored in the PsyNet.

She initiated the conference as soon as she arrived back home.

After clearing some minor operational details, she and her team moved on to the real reason for this meeting. The weakness, the fracture lines, the disintegration that threatened to collapse the Net. A number of the team had received reports of unstable areas from empaths in the zone for which they were responsible. When they put all the pieces together, it made for an upsetting picture.

“It’s worse than I thought,” Ivy said, dismayed. “Sahara, has Kaleb been able to dig up any further data on this?” The powerful Tk knew the DarkMind best of all and the neosentience had an affinity for the rot that overlay this disintegration. And though its twin, the NetMind, loved empaths, it had known Kaleb longer; he seemed to be able to talk to it in a way even Es couldn’t.

“No, I’m sorry, Ivy.” Sahara’s dark blue eyes were solemn. “I asked him to make contact before this meeting and he says he’s getting the same images he did before—of bodies having their organs forcibly torn out, a calendar that stops at the dawn of Silence.”

The hairs rose on Ivy’s arms as they’d done the first time Kaleb shared the information with her. “What the hell are we missing?”

No one had any answers, not even Alice Eldridge, who’d completed a groundbreaking and in-depth study of empaths. “Regardless of my spotty memory,” the other woman said, rubbing at her forehead, “I’m not sure I could help here. I don’t have any proof but I don’t think this is an empathic issue. There’s another problem, one we’re blind to for some reason.”

Slowly, faces drawn and worry a heavy weight on their shoulders, the team began to sign off, until only Sascha and Sahara were left. Ivy had been disappointed by Sascha’s lack of participation in the meeting—the cardinal was the most senior E in the world. She’d been “awake” the longest, had run countless tests on her abilities while the rest of them were still mired in Silence.

Yes, Ivy and the others had made certain breakthroughs, but Sascha’s years of intensive study and experimentation gave her a depth of knowledge nothing could beat. Especially with the Es in the Net strained to their limit handling not just the Honeycomb but the confusion and need of a population staggering awake from a long, Silent sleep.

No one had time to do anything but react.

A dedicated E designation research team was a pipe dream.

As a result, Sascha had unofficially taken up the research baton, and Ivy had been hopeful of her contribution. Assuming the cardinal empath’s reticence had to do with the fact that, having defected from the PsyNet, Sascha no longer had real-time data, Ivy went to reiterate the Collective’s need for Sascha’s advice.

But the other woman spoke before she could and it immediately became crystal clear that Sascha had been engaged in the meeting. She’d simply been absorbing all available data and putting the pieces together. “Sophie,” the cardinal said with a frown. “Have you checked her section of the Net?”

Ivy nodded. She didn’t know Sophia Russo well, but every E in Sophia’s part of the world was aware that the section of the PsyNet immediately around Sophia’s mind was different. Stable. Deeply peaceful.

So much so that tired Es strained to the limit had been known to deliberately linger in that section to catch their breath.

What nobody but a rare few knew, however, was that the difference had to do with how Sophia Russo was anchored into the Net—the mind of Nikita Duncan’s senior aide was woven into the PsyNet by millions of fine connections, rather than being linked to it by a single biofeedback link.

In essence, Sophia Russo wasn’t jacked into the Net, she was part of the fabric of the Net itself. And in her mind, the mind of a J-Psy who had always accepted darkness as well as light, the NetMind and DarkMind were one. No division, no fractures, no damage, that joyous wholeness reflected in the cool clear pond that was Sophia’s anchor point.

“Sophia’s area is as stable and peaceful as always,” she told Sascha, the fact one that gave her hope.

“Totally stable?” Sascha pressed. “No shrinkage of her zone of influence?”

Ivy frowned. “I checked after Kaleb first showed me the disintegration, but I wasn’t looking for that in particular.” Dread coalescing in her veins, she said, “Give me three minutes. I’m going to make a more detailed assessment.”

What she found was extraordinary.

Dropping out of the Net, Ivy stared at Sascha. “How did you know?” It came out a husky whisper.

“What did you see?” the cardinal Psy asked.

“Sophia’s zone of influence has grown, Sascha. Not enough to be noticed on a casual pass, but look again and it’s obvious.” Where once, two or three empaths could’ve lingered in that area at any one time, it could now accommodate four, maybe even five.

Sascha blew out a breath. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I was hoping, because so long as Sophia is holding steady, there’s a chance to save the Net before it collapses. We just have to figure out what makes her unique.”

Frowning, Sahara said, “It can’t just be that she accepts both sides of her nature, allowing the NetMind and DarkMind to be one at that point, because if that was true—”

“—then the Net should be healing, even if at a glacial pace,” Ivy completed, because with the fall of Silence had come a tumultuous surge of emotion into the Net. “Is it because of how Sophia’s mind is woven into the Net?”

Tucking back a strand of hair that had escaped her braid, Sascha said, “It’s possible. Sophie is more deeply integrated into the PsyNet than anyone else on the planet.”

“How could we ever duplicate that?” Sahara’s question was stark. “It might help if we knew how and why Sophia Russo’s mind anchored that way.”

Sascha gave a gentle shake of her head. “Sophie’s story is hers to tell, but I asked her once what I could share should the question of the genesis of her anchor point ever come up, and she gave me leave to tell you that it was an instinctive survival act. I don’t think even she could provide us with instructions.”

Head beginning to pound as if it were being struck repeatedly by a hammer, Ivy looked down at a small bark to see that Rabbit had run back from her mother’s home to pay her a visit. He always did that, happily running back and forth when his people were in two separate locations in a single area. “Let me get Rabbit some water,” she said to the other women and went to refill his bowl.

As he began to lap it up, his tail wagging, she found herself thinking of the community her parents had helped build in this corner of North Dakota, how it was a living organism of a kind. Each individual unique and separate, but together forming a cohesive—

Her eyes widened.

All but running back to the comm, she interrupted Sahara midword. “Can you ask Kaleb to help rope in the NetMind to search for any other healthy sections? Areas like Sophia Russo’s?”

“That’s brilliant, Ivy.” Sascha’s eyes bled to pure black. “With Sophia alone, we have only guesswork, but if we can find a second mind that’s helping the Net to heal, we can compare similarities and differences.”

“But wouldn’t your Es have already spotted such sections?” Sahara pressed her fingers against her temples, as if she’d caught Ivy’s headache. “I first heard about Sophia from one of them.”

“I’m going to alert the entire Collective to be on the lookout,” Ivy said, already drafting that message in her head. “That might be enough to jar loose important memories—because if the area is small, an E might not have noticed except to think he or she felt good when passing by.”

Ivy hoped that was the case, because the other scenario was bleak: that Sophia’s was the solitary healthy area.

Chapter 32

VASIC ARRIVED AT the coordinates he’d been given by Miane Levèque to find himself on one of their floating cities. The BlackSea alpha was dressed in camouflage gear, her face painted with stripes of black and her above-shoulder-length hair scraped back into a small tail. There were five others with her, including a large male Vasic recognized as Malachai Rhys.

“Vasic.” Eyes softening, Miane touched her fingers lightly to his forearm. “Thank you for coming.”

He accepted the tactile gesture of sympathy with a quiet nod. “Where do you need to go?”

Miane held out her hand. On it was a small disk that she pressed down on to bring up a detailed hologram of an old pier. The battered sign at the end identified it as Edward’s Pier.

Vasic looked at the image, tried for a teleport lock, achieved it. “This is perfect. How did you get the original image?”

Miane and Malachai exchanged a look before seeming to decide to trust him. “We sent in a packmate who can shift into a snake—freshwater,” Miane said. “He’s unusual in that his snake form is relatively small. We took the risk that it wouldn’t set off any sensors calibrated for changeling water creatures.”

Vasic nodded, realizing they’d asked for a ’port because a bigger team couldn’t replicate that stealth sweep. “Let’s go.”

“It’s not dark there,” Miane said. “Your uniform—”

Vasic had touched a control on his shoulder as she spoke. It was usually located on the left wrist, but had been moved to the left shoulder for him. One touch and his uniform morphed into a camouflage pattern.

“Handy.” Malachai took in the change with interested eyes. “Want to share that tech?”

Vasic took the grease pot Miane held out, striped his face. “Talk to Aden.” He knew it was unlikely his friend and the leader of the squad would agree to it. Arrows still needed certain advantages and this technology was cutting edge, created by scientists the squad had saved from death and who now worked for the squad—not under duress, but because the squad gave them the funds and the freedom to explore their ideas.

Throwing the grease pot to one of Miane’s people who was dressed in civilian clothing and who had just finished checking the earpieces to be used by the incursion team, he said, “Move into a tight formation around me.” He could teleport the six-strong BlackSea team at one time, but only if they minimized the distances between their bodies. “I’m going to ’port us into the area between the trees to the left of the shot.”

It took three seconds for them to organize as he’d requested and then he was making the ’port. The team melted against the trees and into the long grasses the instant after arrival, and so did Vasic. They were good, Miane’s people. If he hadn’t known they were there, he might not have seen them immediately.

On his first visual scan, he saw nothing except the pier, along with scattered trees. The knee-high grasses waved in the breeze. There were no indications that their slender forms had been pressed down by the passage of even a single pair of feet. That didn’t rule out teleporters, but given that there were a limited number of teleport-capable Tks in the world, the possibility was low. Not negligible, however.

It was on his second visual sweep that he spotted something on the other side of the most open patch of grass directly beyond the pier. Making a sign for Miane to wait, he teleported to the site. It was what he’d suspected—a surveillance unit. A closer look showed it to be dead.

Taking it back to BlackSea, he pointed out the water damage and ingrained dirt. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s bothered to maintain it.” As if this location had been abandoned.

Miane’s jaw tensed. “We still stay low, stay quiet, on alert.”

“Agreed.” He let the BlackSea team take the lead because he needed to be able to see everyone so he could pull them out if there was a problem. With them now spread out, he’d have to do it in bursts.

Two seconds after they began, the entire team froze at a gust of sound, but it was only waterfowl taking flight from the waterway beyond the old wooden pier.

It took an hour for them to move from their start position not far from the water’s edge and up along a line following the open strip on which there were no trees, only what appeared to be the kind of grasses and weeds that grew quickly on land that had been cleared by outside forces.

Miane clearly believed this had once been a dirt track. She was proven right when a couple of minutes after the hour mark, they turned a slight corner and came within visual sight of a squat man-made structure.

Vasic hadn’t asked for an earpiece to match those worn by the BlackSea team, now realized that had been a mistake. If he had one, he could’ve spoken to Miane, who was in the lead, told her it made the most sense for him to teleport there. Even as the thought passed through his head, the BlackSea alpha turned to look at him. She made a motion toward the structure.

He teleported, taking care to ensure he didn’t end up right next to the building but nearby. Then he made his way closer with painstaking focus, crawling there on his front. Having only one upper limb made the task a little more difficult, even given his Tk—this was a situation where one of Samuel’s prosthetics might’ve come in useful.

He knew they were too late the instant he saw the slightly open door, spotted the browned leaves piled in that narrow gap. Still, he took no risks. Retrieving a low-tech tool from a thigh pocket, a tool that was basically a slender piece of metal with a small angled mirror at the end, he used it to look inside the building.

All he saw were signs of neglect.

Including thick cobwebs that crisscrossed the space and couldn’t have been spun had anyone been moving in the area even a week earlier. He was too much an Arrow, however, to take it as a given that one empty room meant the entire structure was empty. Sliding away the mirror, he made his way around the side of the building and to the back. There was a small hole at the bottom that looked like damage caused by wear and tear.

Again, he used his tool to look inside.

More cobwebs.

The structure had no other rooms from what he could tell.

Lifting his hand, he waved Miane’s people over. They came in quiet as ghosts, but one look inside the structure and it was confirmed they were weeks, more likely months, too late.

“She was here,” Miane said, striding to a dusty corner and pointing to a green bracelet that appeared to have been forgotten there. “I saw her wearing this at our last Conclave.”

Vasic glanced at her. “Why aren’t you picking it up?” It should’ve been an instinctive act for a woman born in a tactile, emotional race.

“Because I’m hoping we can get a psychometric in here.” She looked at her people. “Everyone out. Let’s leave this place as clean as possible for the Ps-Psy, if we can get him.” Miane turned to Vasic. “Can you ’port me back to Lantia? I need to make some calls. The others will stay here and we can move them out on water transport now that we know this location is abandoned.”

Vasic got her to the floating city, said, “If you need someone to take the psychometric to the site, I’ll do it.”

“We’re starting to owe the Arrows far too many favors,” Miane said without heat. “Thank you. Now let me see if he’s willing to do this.”

VASIC was both surprised and not when the Ps-Psy proved to be Tanique Gray. Anthony Kyriakus’s children had never been ordinary and, given their father, their rebel leanings were almost to be expected. Because he’d seen psychometrics at work before, Vasic kept Tanique within sight once he’d ’ported Miane and the young male to the location of Leila Savea’s captivity, ready to get him to a medical unit should it be necessary.

He didn’t think Miane and the other changelings realized the cost of a Ps-Psy’s abilities. Likely because psychometrics were rare and tended to work mostly with museums and the like. That didn’t negate the danger; it simply kept it out of public view. The last emergency Vasic had heard of, had involved a Ps-Psy who’d been asked to verify the provenance of an old sword.

He’d been paid a considerable sum to handle the weapon because most psychometrics wouldn’t touch anything with a known history of violence. As it happened, the compensation could never have been enough. The Ps-Psy had managed to scream that the weapon had been used in a recent massacre before he stopped talking and started convulsing.

He was still in a high-dependency unit in a private medical facility. The chances of his waking up were slim, but he was kept alive because there was a chance, and Ps-Psy were valuable enough that no one wanted to squander the opportunity, should it exist.

Today he saw Tanique freeze to a stop on the floor of the main room, well before he reached the entrance to what must’ve been Leila Savea’s cell. The younger male’s muscles contracted, his hands fisting as his breathing turned ragged.

Vasic didn’t hesitate. He teleported the other man out of the building and into the trees just outside.

Miane spun around to face Vasic. “What the hell? He was getting something.”

“He was about to go into a seizure.” Shifting on his heel, Vasic walked to where he’d teleported Tanique.

Faith NightStar’s brother was bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest heaving as he sucked in gulps of air.

“What’s wrong with him?” Miane asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before pulling out a bottle of water from the pack of a nearby BlackSea soldier and walking over to put it by Tanique’s feet.

Vasic liked her better for the action, for her awareness that her packmate’s life wasn’t the only one that held importance. Waiting until she’d returned to his side, he said, “A psychometric picks up echoes. The older the object, the duller the echo. The newer the object, the harsher and louder.”

Frowning, the BlackSea alpha said, “He wasn’t handling anything at the time.”

“Why do you think he took off his shoes before he went inside?” The building itself was an object and Tanique’s bare feet had been on a critical part of it.

Realization chilled Miane’s features. “Leila was tortured on that spot,” she said in a cold, hard voice. “And that kid relived it?”

That “kid” was a highly gifted psychometric who cost hundreds of thousands to the institutions that hired him. But yes, he “felt” young. Innocent. Enough that Vasic was compelled by the urge to protect him as he would young Arrows who were out of their depth. “We’ll find out soon.” Because Tanique was picking up the bottle of water and drinking.

“Is he sensing things from the bottle?” Miane frowned. “Shit, I didn’t even think about it hurting him.”

Vasic shook his head. “He can shield against his sensitivity to physical echoes the same way powerful telepaths can shield against the noise of the world.” Tanique had to deliberately lower his shields to sense anything from the objects around him.

“I’m glad for him.” Miane folded her arms. “It’d be hell to walk through life never knowing what object or place might send you right into a nightmare.”

The psychometric finished half the bottle, capped it, then came to stand opposite them, more on Vasic’s side than Miane’s. “Thank you,” he said to Vasic, his pupils still hugely dilated. “I’ve never been near such a recent violent event.”

Some might have been surprised by that, since Tanique was Anthony’s son and Anthony was known to be a ruthless operator. But Anthony didn’t think in terms of exploiting his family. He had to understand what Tanique’s ability demanded from him, must’ve ensured his son was never asked to take on tasks that could permanently compromise him.

Vasic inclined his head. “Did you pick up anything useful that might help us track the BlackSea changeling?” He’d phrased the question very deliberately so Tanique wouldn’t feel forced to detail Leila Savea’s torture.

That would help no one, and while Miane Levèque could put on the appearance of calm, Vasic knew she was changeling under the skin, had the same primal drives. There was no point in enraging her any further.

“Nothing,” Tanique said after shooting Vasic a grateful look. “I think I should focus on the doorway. Since it’s the only route by which they could’ve left, I stand a higher chance of picking up facts about their departure.”

“Wait.” Miane went as if to touch Tanique’s upper arm, dropped her hand partway. “Do you sense things from people, too?” she asked, though Vasic didn’t think that had been her original intention.

Tanique shook his head. “Only inanimate objects, though the size of the object doesn’t have a bearing on my ability. I have picked up echoes from trees in rare circumstances, but that’s about as close as I get to reading a living creature.”

“Good to know.” Miane accompanied them back to the doorway. “Did you pick up anything about the people who are keeping Leila captive? Are they Psy?”

Tanique took several seconds to reply. “You must understand,” he said at last. “What I see, I have to interpret. It comes in kaleidoscopic pieces in a massive rush . . . like I’m standing in a wind tunnel with images blowing past me at rapid speed, and those images are in splinters.”

The young male had left out a critical word: “emotion.”

That was the secret psychometrics had somehow managed to keep through Silence—that when they read an object, they felt the emotional resonance attached to it. It was why so many of them had switched to dating only paintings or other objets d’ art. Things that were highly unlikely to have an intimate history of violence. Weapons had been off the agenda for most Ps-Psy for far longer than the span of Silence.

“You’re telling me you can’t say anything with certainty?” Miane asked, and though she had to be fighting a brutal tumult of emotions, her tone was even. “Without that clue about Edward’s Pier, we’d never have got this far.”

“It’s different with people,” Tanique said. “Especially when it comes to race. Unless a changeling shifted right at the moment I pick up, or a Psy used his or her ability in an obvious way, all I can give you are my impressions.”

Again, he was leaving out the impact of emotion. A holdover from when he’d had to hide that aspect of his abilities under Silence?

“Understood,” Miane said. “What did you get?”

“Two people. One female, one male. No real impression of their faces.” Leila was bleeding, had been recently beaten, her face cut. Should I tell the alpha?

That last statement was sent telepathically to Vasic. No, he answered. Focus only on the practical facts.

Aloud, Tanique said, “My impression is of weapons around the male, not so much around the female, but that’s it. Nothing you can use for identification purposes.”

Miane’s mouth tightened but she didn’t push any further as Tanique went to the doorway. Keeping her voice low, she spoke to Vasic. “He’s more green than I realized. Pull him out if you think he’s in trouble—he helped us get this far and I’m not repaying that by screwing up his head.”

Vasic didn’t take his eyes off Tanique. “Even at the cost of your packmate’s life?”

Voice grim, Miane said, “He’s someone’s kid, too.” That statement was followed by one that was far more pragmatic. “And he can’t help us if he’s dead or if his brain is damaged by convulsions.”

In front of them, Tanique was running his hands all around the doorway. Satisfied with whatever he sensed, he put one foot inside, then two. He stayed there for about a minute before he walked back to join them. “Water,” he said. “The overwhelming impression is of water. Saltwater,” he specified. “They’re heading in the direction of saltwater.”

Vasic could sense Miane’s frustration. There were oceans filled with saltwater.

Then Tanique said, “Contained. The saltwater is contained.” He frowned. “Old concrete and saltwater.”

That immediately narrowed the focus but it still cast a wide net. Somewhere out there, there was a saltwater pool or reservoir where Leila had been taken either so she could swim and regain her muscle tone, or where she was being trained for an operation.

“Anything else?” Miane asked. “Even the smallest crumb could help us narrow down the search area.”

Tanique rubbed his temple. “It doesn’t make sense, but I did catch an image of a feline of some kind.” He lifted his hands instinctively above his head, cupping them in the shape of ears before he seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped them. “Its ears stood straight up and they had black tufts on the tops.”

“Could one of them be a changeling?”

Vasic had pulled out his palm-sized organizer and was scrolling through images of felines as Miane asked that question.

“I don’t know,” Tanique said. “It was a very faint impression, could even have been from a feline incursion into the building prior to your packmate’s captivity here.”

Vasic turned the screen of the organizer toward Tanique. “Did the feline look like this?”

“Yes. What is it?”

“A Canadian lynx.”

Miane blew out a breath. “There are multiple lynx packs across Canada, never mind the world, but at least we have a place to start.” She held out a hand toward Tanique. “Thank you. We owe you one.”

Vasic wondered if the alpha realized she’d just pledged a favor to PsyClan NightStar.

As he watched, Miane walked to the building, pressed her hand against it, and said, “We’ll find you, Leila. Don’t give up. Your pack is coming.”