Blaze of Memory

CHAPTER 48

Dev considered everything Jack had told him—both during and after the meeting—as he headed down to Katya. She’d volunteered to be confined to an isolation ward in the clinic while he wasn’t able to be with her. It tore at his every protective instinct that she’d effectively imprisoned herself, but there was no knowing what grenades Ming had put in her head.

Soon, he promised himself. Soon, she’d be free. Today, however, he needed her help. But first—“How’s your leg?” he asked, after kissing her gently on the forehead.

“Healing normally according to Dr. Herriford.” A soft smile. “You want to ask me something.”

It didn’t surprise him that she knew. He knew her unspoken secrets, too. “What are the abilities that can cause death?”

“Pretty much all the strong offensive gifts,” she told him, eyes troubled. “Telepaths and telekinetics are near definites. M-Psy, less so—it depends on whether we have an offensive gift we can couple with our M potential. Ps-Psy occasionally—”

“How?” As far as he knew, psychometrics used touch to divine an object’s past. Many worked for museums or private collectors, appraising which items were genuine, which fake.

“If an object has a violent past,” Katya explained, “it occasionally ‘short-circuits’ one of the Ps-Psy, causing some kind of a temporary psychic injury. But I’ve heard rumors that some Ps-Psy can also absorb that violent power purposefully.” She turned up her palms. “I never really had much reason to research them so my knowledge isn’t that good. I’m sorry.”

“You’re doing fine. Any other designations?”

“Some of the old texts mention an ability more destructive than telekinesis, but to be honest, I can’t think what that would be. Tks can collapse buildings on top of people—the truly powerful might even be able to cause small quakes.”

None of which explained William’s killing of his dog. There was, Dev knew, a very good chance the boy had been born with a violent New Generation ability. And if so, Silence might not be the cure Jack was hoping for.

“The person you really need to talk to,” Katya murmured, “is an Arrow.”

“The Council’s bogeymen?”

“You know about them?”

“They’re mentioned in our records.” Dev’s own ancestors had been hunted by the Arrows, families torn apart, loved ones forever lost.

“Well, they deal in death. They’d know all about the destructive abilities.” She put her hand on his arm. “Unfortunately, I don’t know any in the resistance. Ask Ashaya—she has more contacts.”

Loath to leave Katya in a sterile environment that had to awaken terror-filled memories, he pressed a kiss to her lips. “One day, you’ll be free of him. Then you can walk through any room you want, any place you want.”

“One day.”

But as he headed back upstairs, he knew their time was running out at an inexorable pace. According to the text Glen had sent to his phone half an hour ago, Katya had suffered a severe nosebleed that morning. And as he’d looked into her eyes before he’d left, he’d glimpsed a pinprick hemorrhage.

Rage tore through him, leaving devastation in its wake. Forcing himself to the comm panel in his office, he put through a call to Ashaya. Her eyes widened at his request. But all she said was “I need more information.”

Dev sent through Jack’s notes on his son—and on what William had done. “Ashaya, whoever you share this with, make sure you trust him absolutely.”

“Understood. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Switching off the screen, he walked to the window. It was a cloudy winter’s day, with snow an ominous threat in the sky, but New York moved with clockwork precision below him—there were so many Psy in the financial center of the country that efficiency was less striven for than expected. But even from this far up, he could spot the humans, the Forgotten, the changelings. They wore color. Splashes of bright red, azure blue, even shimmering gold.

The Psy shunned color, and if there was no other hope for William, the boy Dev had held as a newborn would learn to shun it, too. Why color? Perhaps, Dev thought, it was because the vibrancy of it spoke to something within the Psy soul, the same as music. No Psy ever sang, ever attended a symphony. He’d heard it said that their voices were uniformly flat, but he didn’t believe it. No, what was more likely was that their voices had been flattened by Silence, by the cold control it took to maintain a stranglehold on emotions so powerful, they should never be contained.

The door opened behind him. “What is it, Maggie?”

“Is that any kind of greeting for your nani, Devraj?”

Spinning on his heel, he crossed the office with long strides to pull his grandmother’s rangy form into his arms. “What are you doing here?” The scents of spice and paint filled the air, overlaid with an edge he’d always thought of as glass. As if Kiran Santos’s love for her work had infiltrated her very being. “Where’s Nana?”

“I left him at home.” His grandmother winked as he drew back from the embrace. “I wanted to spend time with my other favorite man.” Strong hands, scarred by a thousand nicks and cuts, closed on his upper arms. “You look tired, beta.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said. “You know that.”

“Don’t you think the Psy spies know about me?” A squeeze of his arms. “Of course they do. They see me as a weakness, but I’m a strength.”

He’d never yet won an argument with his grandmother. Giving in, he took the hand she held out to him. “Why are you here?” She’d always left him to run Shine as he saw fit, no matter that she hadn’t agreed with all his decisions—such as the one that had precipitated a heart attack in a member of the old board earlier in the year. Dev hadn’t apologized for that. He couldn’t. Because the old board had been hiding from the truth, burying their heads in the sand.

Meanwhile their children had been dying, systematically culled by the Council.

“You needed me,” his grandmother said, switching from English to Hindi without pause. “Why didn’t you call or come to me on the ShadowNet?”

“Because there are no answers here.”

“The woman,” she said. “You care for her a great deal.”

“Yes.” A stark answer. “Yes.”

“Tell me.”

And he did. Because she was one of the very few people he trusted implicitly.

“I want to kill Ming—tear him apart with my bare hands—but what I really need from him is the key that’ll release Katya from her psychic prison, wipe out the compulsions. For that, I need him to talk.”

“Devraj, you must realize. . . holding a gun to Ming’s head will achieve nothing. Not unless you can somehow cut off all his avenues of escape.”

That’s why he liked his grandmother. She was practical. “It has to be a short, hard hit.” A brutal hit. “Even if he gets out a telepathic cry for help, I have to convince him he’ll die before that help reaches him.”

“That assumes he has no teleporters at his command, and I wouldn’t assume that.”

“There’s only been one report of a true teleporter, and our intel says he’s currently somewhere in South America—not attached to Ming,” Dev argued. “The others are Tks. Able to teleport, yes, but not as fast.”

“Fast enough.” His grandmother leaned forward, frown lines marking her forehead. “We need to discuss this with the woman. With your Katya.”

“No. I can’t risk—”

“Hush, Devraj.” A fond smile. “Do you really think you’re going to win this argument?”

He tried to scowl at her, but there was simply too much love in his heart for this woman. “I’m not putting you in danger. Katya tried to kill me,” he said bluntly. “It may be that she’s programmed to strike out at others close to me if she gets the chance.”

“That’s why I have a big, strong grandson to protect me.”

And that was how Dev found himself in the subbasement level, standing at one end of the table while the two women who meant most to him in the world looked across at each other. Physically, they couldn’t have been more different.

His nani was a tall woman with nut-brown skin and sparkling dark eyes. Katya was just barely of medium height, her skin almost translucent, though it had gained a little more color recently, her eyes a soft, wary hazel. His grandmother was tough, looked tough, her arms ropy with muscle. Katya in contrast, appeared soft. . . delicate.

An illusion.

The woman who’d walked through Sunshine, Alaska, without screaming was no weakling.

“So,” his grandmother said, “you’re the one who has my Devraj staying up nights.”

Katya didn’t turn to him, holding his grandmother’s gaze. “Actually,” she said, “I blame him for the sleepless nights.”

Nani laughed. “I like her, beta.” Reaching forward, she closed her hand around Katya’s. “You should meet Dev’s paternal great-grandfather, Matthew; he’s the one Dev gets the stubborn from. Old goat’s well over a hundred, but I haven’t yet seen him back down from a fight.”

Katya’s eyes widened. “Was he—”

A nod. “Yes, he was alive when Silence first came into effect. His parents, Zarina and David, were part of the original rebellion.”

Katya didn’t speak for almost a minute. “He would’ve been a contemporary of the very first children who were Silenced in the Net.”

“He remembers a cousin, said he saw him on the street years later, and it was as if the man’s soul had been wiped away.” The older woman shook her head. “Two different paths . . . though perhaps the paths are merging once again.” There was a troubled note in her voice. “But that’s not why we’re here—we’ve been discussing how to disable Ming long enough that you can get him to set you free.”

To her credit, Katya only blinked once. “We could render him unconscious, but that would defeat the purpose. If there is a key to unlock the shield, it has to be a telepathic one.”

“There’s also a high chance he could use the opportunity to kill you.” Nani’s tone was pragmatic.

Dev had already considered that. “Not if he knows that if she dies, he dies.”

“Which brings us back to the point of how to disable Ming.” Katya frowned.

And in that instant, Dev realized exactly what they had to do. Pacing from one end of the room to the other, he swept out a hand. “Leave that for now.” His every instinct rebelled against the plan his brain told him was the only possible answer. “We’ll need an exit strategy, too.”

“Make him meet you on your ground,” his grandmother suggested. “Turn him into the intruder—it’ll make it much easier for you to get away.”

“Getting him to come to us will be close to impossible,” Katya said. “He’s extremely security conscious.” When Dev didn’t reply, Katya looked up. And said, “Oh. You’ve already thought of the answer, haven’t you?”

He didn’t bother to lie. “Yes.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Never—I planned to come up with another way.” Thrusting his hand through his hair, he walked over to pull her up from her chair. “I don’t like the idea of using you as bait.”

“It’s the best shot we’ve got.” Cupping Dev’s cheek, she made him meet her gaze. “We’re doing this.”

“Then you’re damn well obeying every order I give you. Understood?” His voice was pure frost, protective rage barely contained.

“Yes.”

Dev’s grandmother sighed. “That’s not the way, beti. With men like my grandson, you have to be disagreeable on principle.”

Laughing at the amused advice, Katya reached out to take the other woman’s hand, feeling so at ease it was as if she’d known Kiran forever. She never got that far. Her spine twisted into an unnatural shape as agony spiked down her body. The last thing she heard was her own high-pitched scream.

“What happened?” she asked Dev hours later from the hospital bed.

His cheekbones were razors against his skin as he gripped her hand. “Glen thinks your motor controls somehow shorted out at the same time that you had a problem with your nervous system.” His voice was ragged, raw with anger.

“The countdown’s speeded up.” Even if Ming gave them the key, even if that key unlocked the shield, even if it miraculously released the talons sunk into her brain, whatever was already damaged could never be fixed. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

He swore. But he didn’t let go of her hand, and she held on tight. Or tried to. “Please, I need to know.”

His eyes were tormented when he looked at her. “We took a scan of your brain. Parts have been permanently compromised. You’ll always have problems with your fine motor controls, your memories.”

That explained why her fingers didn’t quite grip right, didn’t quite feel right. Rage boiled within her, but she didn’t let it rise, afraid that if she did, it would be all she was, all she’d become. She loved this man too much to waste time on useless anger. “You won’t reconsider trying to take Ming?” If Dev died . . . no, she’d make sure he didn’t.

“No.”

“Then let’s put the game into play.”