Allegiance of Honor

Chapter 39

AS PER THE plan he’d worked out with Miane’s team, Vasic teleported in alone to the compound that might hold the vanished BlackSea woman. The location he arrived in proved to be as perfect as the neighboring lynx pack had stated: a corner of the property swathed in shadows because of large trees the owners had probably left up in order to further shield the back of the property.

There were lights on the fence but they didn’t penetrate much deeper than a few feet. The house itself was only lit up in one discrete section. Between the house and this spot lay a large area of lawn and foliage. Teleporting right to the house would’ve been easier, but he had no way of knowing what security measures were in place; it was better to be patient than to set off a sensor.

Having pulled on his night-vision goggles, Vasic was calculating the best route to the house when he felt a telepathic scan pass over him.

Psy guards.

They wouldn’t have picked up his presence. Arrow minds were too well shielded—but this wasn’t a one-man operation. Miane hadn’t been arrogant about BlackSea’s involvement, had told him that if he could pull out Leila or any other captive on his own, then he was to do it. However, once Vasic did a scan of his own and realized the number of guards, he ’ported back to BlackSea’s floating city.

Then, he, Miane, and Malachai overhauled the plan in light of his reconnaissance. It took precious time and he could feel the changelings straining inside their skin, but they forced themselves to remain calm and controlled. Every member of the team knew that this would be no empty substation in the wilderness but a heavily guarded fortress they’d have to breach with stealth.

“Close in,” Vasic said after everyone in the team had been briefed on the updated plan; he then teleported without delay.

The first part was simple—to get to the house without alerting or harming the perimeter guards. It would slow their progress but give them longer to search the property before an alarm was raised—because the instant that happened, if Leila was here, she might either be harmed or moved.

Upon arrival, the team split up as agreed and each individual made his or her way to certain points. Four of the changelings would remain outside, ready to pick off guards should they come running in from the perimeter in response to an alarm. Vasic was already using his telepathic abilities to conceal their presence from a psychic sweep.

He, Miane, and Malachai would go inside.

The plan was to do it as quietly as possible, to confirm this was the right place and these were the right people, before they made any lethal calls. There was, after all, a chance that the house was, in fact, occupied by a celebrity or plain old drug dealer or another individual with a need and/or desire for extreme privacy.

Psy bodyguards were all the rage in certain quarters.

In the darkness, the BlackSea people became ripples of black against black. Vasic saw them, but he was highly trained at night ops, and from what he could tell, most of the property’s guard complement was far from well trained. Good enough to guard an isolated home. Not good enough to spot men and women who knew how to move in the dark.

Part one went off without a hitch.

Meeting at the closest entrance, from beyond which Vasic could pick out no light, he and Malachai waited while Miane tried the old-fashioned door. It was locked. The BlackSea alpha pulled something out of a thigh pocket, used it on the door. The next time she twisted the handle, it opened. No audible alarms.

Instead of rushing inside, Vasic used a miniature low-beam flashlight to check for any electronic beams or signs the door was wired for a silent alarm.

Nothing.

The other two moved at his nod to clear the room; the three of them had worked out their responsibilities and tasks back on Lantia. Entering behind them, Vasic closed the door so it would remain a viable exit should Vasic be separated from the others and unable to ’port them to safety.

If no one knew they’d come this way, no one could lock it on them.

“It’s an office,” Malachai said in a near-subvocal whisper, his bulk behind the black wedge of a desk.

Flicking on a narrow-beam flashlight of his own, he ran it over the papers on the desk. “Shit, it’s all decades old. Must’ve been left here when the property went into foreclosure.”

That explained the leaves Vasic could feel underfoot, the damp in the air. “They didn’t bother to clean up this section.”

“Let’s go,” Miane said, already at the other door.

Vasic did a telepathic scan of the corridor beyond, indicated for them to go. He wouldn’t have sensed someone as highly shielded as himself, but he doubted there was anyone with that level of mental discipline here. He was proved right. The corridor was lined with a moth-eaten carpet and empty of all life. They went quicker now, checking any rooms they passed but aiming for the section of the house that had been lit up when they arrived.

Vasic caught the first hint of voices almost five minutes later; the sounds were followed by whispers of light. He and the changelings crept right to the edge of the light, listened. Vasic knew that if BlackSea changelings had the same level of hearing as terrestrial changelings, then Miane and Malachai had to be picking up far more than him, but he picked up enough.

“. . . on the road. Barring any unexpected delays, she’ll arrive at the drop-off point in twenty-four hours.”

“You’re sure she’s broken?” A male voice. “The damn fish held out forever.”

“Broken and ours,” confirmed the second speaker, a female. “All she needs is time to regain full physical health, and she’ll be primed and ready to hit whichever target we point her at.”

Vasic knew the three of them could’ve backed off, allowed this place to continue existing so they could use it to track down the other vanished, but that wasn’t the changeling way. They wouldn’t sacrifice one for the many. The squad functioned the same way.

“Male speaker is Psy, female is human,” he said in a tone so low he could barely hear himself. “First is protecting the mind of the second, and he’s strong enough that I’d have to kill him to neutralize him psychically. The backlash might take out the female.

“A telekinetic hit could put them out of commission, but there’s a slight risk the male will have a chance to blast a telepathic warning to his guards or to his superiors.” Telepathic communication was near impossible to block. “Do you want me to strike?”

Miane’s back was a furious line in front of him as she shook her head. “Mal.”

“Be easier if one or both moved this way.”

“Keep the human alive,” Miane ordered. “Psy is too high a risk.”

“I’ll get them out into the corridor,” Vasic warned before he teleported some distance back down the way they’d come and deliberately knocked over an old vase.

It didn’t take long for the Psy male to start down toward the noise. He was being stealthy, but he was focused on the origin point of the noise, far down the hallway. Vasic ’ported back in time to watch Malachai rise up behind him and snap his neck. Miane was already moving toward the room from which the dead male had come.

By the time Vasic walked in, she had the human female facedown on the ground, her knee on the other woman’s spine and the woman’s arms wrenched behind her back. Miane’s gun was pressed to the back of the woman’s head, explaining the woman’s silence.

A small communications unit lay on the ground. “She didn’t get out an alert,” Miane said in a voice as cold as the frigid darkness at the bottom of the ocean.

Vasic was already in the human female’s mind, taking everything she knew about Leila Savea, the vanished, and the Consortium. It appeared the Psy male had bolstered her weak natural protections as well as extending his own shields over her, but with the latter gone, the former wasn’t difficult to disassemble without causing brain damage. “I have it,” he said quietly.

“Did she torture Leila?” Miane’s eyes were chips of black ice when she glanced at Vasic.

Vasic thought of what he’d seen in this woman’s mind, of how she’d taken pleasure in carving up Leila’s face while the changeling screamed, and knew this was no time for mercy. “Yes.”

The woman opened her mouth as if to beg or scream for help, but it was too late. Miane had slit her throat using a knife Vasic hadn’t seen her pull out. “Are there any others here?” the BlackSea alpha asked after wiping the blood on the back of the woman’s shirt and rising to her feet.

Vasic shook his head. “According to her memories, it was meant to be a long-term containment facility. Leila was the test subject. They moved her out this morning.”

Jaw a hard line, Miane said, “Let’s exit. Quietly as we entered. The longer the guards are in the dark, the longer we have to track down Leila without interference.”

Vasic got the entire team out without incident, then told Miane what else he’d discovered in the woman’s mind. “She was in charge of only Leila Savea.” Another example of the fragmentation practiced so effectively by the Consortium. “Her job was to break Leila and train her to follow orders, even if those orders were to kill.”

Interestingly, the torturer had believed herself equal to all others in the Consortium, which Vasic knew for a fact wasn’t true. The CEO the squad had captured previously had been in the innermost circle, part of the decision makers who held power over the more disposable pawns below.

However, those details he’d share later. Currently, only one thing was important. “Leila was taken away in an SUV with the following number plate.” He wrote it down for them. “Though the woman wasn’t meant to and didn’t know the final destination, one of the drivers slipped up and mentioned they were heading toward the Yukon.”

“Can we hack into the traffic systems?” Miane asked Malachai.

The big male nodded. “I’m on it, but even though we’re only searching a certain corridor, the country has a lot of uncharted roads that aren’t used enough to justify traffic surveillance. If I was doing something illegal, I’d stay on those uncharted roads—and if I did take the main highways, I’d do it at night and make sure my plates were too muddy for the scanners.”

Miane swore. “We need people looking for that SUV, but even if we alert all our people and the changeling packs our allies know, it won’t be enough. There aren’t enough of us.”

Malachai paused, blew out a quiet breath. “There are a lot more humans on the roads, including truckers who travel at night and everyday individuals who drive back and forth to their homes and work.”

Vasic could see Miane struggling with the decision she had to make. Send out a request across the Human Alliance network for information about the SUV and possibly find it—or have that information end up in the hands of the enemy, who’d either hide Leila once again . . . or eliminate her as too big a risk. The good news was that the latter would have to be a last resort: they’d put too much time and effort into her to discard her so quickly.

“I’ll talk to Bowen Knight,” Miane said at last, her hand fisted. “Request he ask his people to report any sightings of the vehicle.”

“It’s the best choice.” Malachai held his alpha’s gaze, his brown eyes appearing to glow as if backlit. “At least it gives Leila a shot before she’s forced to kill, because once she does, we won’t be able to bring her back. She isn’t built for that.”

“No, Leila is built for science and exploration and writing scholarly papers.” All but vibrating with anger, Miane stalked to the comm. “Bowen Knight doesn’t need to know why I’m asking for this—I don’t trust him enough yet. I’ll bargain a favor for a BlackSea IOU.”

“Actually, the Alliance owes us one,” Malachai said. “I tipped Bowen off about an anti-human Psy cell we picked up on in Venice.”

His alpha paused midstep. “Why didn’t I know about this?”

“I was going to brief you, but then we heard about Leila’s message and it didn’t seem particularly important.” Malachai shrugged. “It was only a fringe group of fanatics, nothing major, but they were apparently planning to storm the Alliance offices with weapons.” He folded his arms. “Bowen confirmed our intel was right, thanked me. I told him one day, we’d call in the favor.”

Miane’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Sometimes, Mal, I think that brain of yours is a dangerous weapon. Good thing you’re on my side.” She input the call after Malachai moved out of the shot.

Vasic teleported home to Ivy before the call connected. His part was done. Leila Savea’s life now depended on countless pairs of human eyes.

Letters to Nina

From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

November 3, 2076

Nina,

I’ve crossed many borders in the past year, somehow ended up making a home in San Francisco. I have a church, a congregation. They call me Father Xavier. It felt too big a thing at first, the respect inherent in it unearned, but I’ve come to accept my place here.

I may be but a humble man from a distant mountain village—but in this big city, there are many broken souls who need solace. I attempt to provide it, even as I fight my own demons, fight my own anger.

I’m no longer surprised when I find Psy sitting in the pews. They used to leave when they saw me, as if afraid I’d turn them in for believing, but now sometimes, they stay and we talk. I was such a fool before, Nina, thinking they weren’t people but automatons. There is nothing that separates us but a twist of biology—they have psychic abilities and we don’t. That is the only difference. Beneath the skin, they are as human as you or I.

My Psy friend though, he’s as different from the parishioners as a rabbit is from a bird of prey. He is always in such control, so cold. Frigid as ice, until it would be easy to believe that he is an unfeeling robotic killer. Yet I’ve seen this man take a bullet to protect a child.

Heroes, I’ve learned, don’t always wear white.

Sometimes they come from the darkness, shadows among shadows.

Your Xavier

Chapter 40

KALEB HAD BEEN searching for another area of the Net as healthy as Sophia Russo’s ever since Sahara made the request. The NetMind and DarkMind had proven singularly unhelpful on that point. So much so that Kaleb was starting to become concerned at the twin neosentiences’ behavior. Previously, even when the DarkMind turned erratic, the NetMind had remained unwavering and resolute in its duties.

The fact that the more stable neosentience was displaying erratic behavior of its own told him the problem with the PsyNet was far bigger than even the empaths realized, the flaw so fundamental that it was causing catastrophic damage to the “organs” of what was clearly a living system.

Given the lack of help, Kaleb had set up tightly defined search patterns that ran continuously. He’d devoted a significant percentage of his brain to the search. And after all that, he’d found only two other areas that appeared flawless in their health. It was possible there were more, since he’d basically run a manual search, but if so, it had to be a highly limited number.

The first new area was simple enough: it emanated from Clara Alvarez. Interestingly, she was an ex-Justice Psy like Sophia Russo. Coincidence?

It was the second clean area that proved problematic.

That small isolated region of the Net was pristine, beautiful, strong . . . and the mind behind the effect invisible. Not well shielded. Invisible. The only people Kaleb knew who had shields that effective were Arrows. He’d only detected that there was a mind anchored in the area because one, he was a dual cardinal with the attendant power, and two, because he’d made it a point to learn how to spot Arrows back when the squad had been under the command of Councilor Ming LeBon, who’d used them to mete out death to his enemies.

It hadn’t mattered if a particular assassination required an Arrow to give up his or her own life; the ex-Councilor had treated the highly trained and extremely intelligent men and women of the squad as replaceable. Despite growing up in the “care” of a psychopath, Kaleb had never made the same mistake when it came to his own people—and it was because of Sahara. She’d taught him that people weren’t disposable or replaceable by being the unique, wild, extraordinary gift that she was . . . and by how she’d seen the same in him.

“Don’t get hurt, Kaleb! Who will I play with if you break your legs?”

“You’ll find other friends. There are lots of children in the NightStar compound.”

A reproachful look from the ten-year-old girl standing at the bottom of the tree, the one with dark, dark blue eyes that always filled with light when he stole away to see her. “But only you’re you. Only you are my best friend.”

It was a fragment of memory that had reminded him to stay Kaleb no matter how his psychopathic trainer tried to break him down over the years. Because Sahara loved Kaleb, no one else. And he loved only her.

Sahara was also the one who’d made him see that, sometimes, it was better to extend the hand of friendship than to force compliance by fear. Santano Enrique had tortured him until Kaleb hated him with every ounce of his being. Sahara had loved him, and for her, he’d do anything.

In line with that thought, he didn’t attempt to break into the shielded mind.

Instead, he dropped out of the PsyNet, made contact with Aden, and asked the leader of the Arrows to meet him on the PsyNet, at the site. “Do you see it?” he asked.

“You’ll have to explain.”

“The Net,” Kaleb pointed out. “No rot, no disintegration, nothing but pure strength.” He didn’t need an empath to confirm it, could feel that strength like a crisp, fresh wind against his psychic senses.

Aden examined the psychic fabric with care. “You’re right.”

“The Es need to know who’s causing the effect,” Kaleb said. “It would give them a third data point for comparison.”

“I’ll check with the individual in question.”

Kaleb let it go at that; pushing an Arrow was a useless endeavor.

Aden’s message came in ten minutes later, while Kaleb was in a meeting with the alpha of the BlackEdge Wolves: The Arrow is Stefan Berg, stationed on Alaris. He’ll contact Ivy Jane personally.

Kaleb knew he’d only been given that information because Sahara would share it anyway, once she learned of it from the empaths. Even Arrows, it seemed, didn’t expect bonded pairs to keep secrets from one another. Excusing himself from the wolf alpha for a short period, he thanked Aden, then passed on all the information he’d discovered to Ivy Jane.

Stefan Berg, he mused as he returned to his meeting. As far as Kaleb knew, the powerful teleporter stationed on the deep-sea station had never officially been an Arrow. Clearly, however, Aden Kai considered the man one of his. Yes, it was never a good idea to take the Arrows for granted—or to assume you knew all their secrets.

IVY couldn’t believe the identity of the third calm space in the Net . . . then she thought of Sophia and Clara, and suddenly the connection between the three was blindingly clear. Heart thumping, she sent a message to Stefan. The Alaris station commander had most recently visited the orchard two months earlier, during his mandatory leave “upside,” as station folk termed it.

You don’t need to teleport up to see me, she told him. I think I know what’s going on. Though Stefan was a violently powerful telekinetic, he wasn’t a born teleporter like Vasic. ’Porting took serious energy for him and he needed to maintain that strength to evacuate Alaris should the station ever suffer a serious incident.

Are you sure? Stefan messaged back. I can meet you on the PsyNet without issue.

Yes, I’m sure. I’ll contact you if I need further information.

You know where I’ll be.

Ivy laughed. These Arrows, they were definitely developing senses of humor.

When Rabbit barked and ran around her, she bent down to give him a rub that had his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. Goofy, wonderful dog. Leaving him with a smiling pat, she took a seat in one of the comfortable couches arranged just off her kitchen area, the nearest counter close enough that she could put drinks there, and people on this side could pick them up.

Almost the entire first level of her and Vasic’s cabin was built this way—as open plan as possible and full of light. It was on purpose, so that any Arrows who visited would never feel isolated or alone. Ivy had decided that they’d had quite enough of that. And it seemed to be working; more than once, she’d had members of the squad drop by and just sit on a couch and work while she went about her own work nearby.

Today, Rabbit jumped up to sit beside her, his small body warm under her hand as she entered the PsyNet and went to the location of Clara Alvarez’s mind, for which Kaleb had given her coordinates.

He was right: the area was clean of infection and vital in its strength. No disintegration, not even a single frayed thread.

Hope bloomed inside her.

Dropping out of the Net, she thought of what she’d learned at Zie Zen’s funeral, knew she couldn’t assume anything. The bond . . . that was the key.

She could call Clara, but that didn’t feel right. She knew the other woman in Clara’s capacity as Manager of Haven because that was where Samuel Rain continued to live, but Ivy and Clara weren’t close enough for easy confidences—and Clara probably didn’t want this information going out over a comm network. It would have to be a personal visit.

Clara was a good person and Ivy believed she would share what Ivy needed to know once she understood the gravity of the situation in the PsyNet.

Vasic was home, could teleport her if the former J-Psy agreed to a meeting.

Ivy hesitated, loathe to disturb him.

She’d finally gotten him to rest; he’d worked nonstop since the day after they scattered Zie Zen’s ashes. She knew it was his method of coping but she’d had enough, had threatened to drug his food to knock him out if he didn’t listen to reason.

He’d smiled that slow, quiet smile that melted her. “You’d never do that, Ivy.”

“Ugh!” Glaring at him, she’d pointed to the bedroom. “Don’t make me turn to the dark side, Vasic Zen!”

Smile deepening, he’d teleported them both into bed and been asleep less than a minute after she stripped off his clothes; that stripping had taken some time since he kept teleporting off her own clothes and stealing kisses when she gasped in surprise.

Ivy had zero willpower against Vasic in a playful mood.

After he fell asleep, she’d stayed in his embrace until there was no chance he’d wake, then left him with a caress through his hair. Her intent had been to finish up her own work before snuggling back against the heat of his body for a lazy nap till Tavish returned home from school. She’d known one of the other telekinetic Arrows would teleport the boy to the orchard if Vasic was still asleep, Tavish having been strictly warned not to attempt the ’port himself.

He was too young, didn’t have the control.

That instruction might not have worked to stop him, but Vasic had quietly told the boy it was a matter of trust. “I’m not going to trap your mind so you can’t teleport,” he’d said. “I trust you to follow the rules.”

Tavish’s small face had filled with determination. “I won’t let you down.”

“I’m not waking him,” Ivy said to Rabbit now, her voice decisive. “If the PsyNet’s survived this long, it can survive another few hours while my Arrow rests.”

The only reason she’d wake him early was if Miane Levèque called. Vasic wouldn’t want Leila Savea to suffer any further if he had the power to help her. Despite her desire for Vasic to rest, Ivy hoped the BlackSea alpha would call, that there would be some news, especially of the SUV that had taken Leila from the compound Vasic had helped infiltrate, but when she slipped in to snuggle beside him, the comm was quiet.

As her powerful husband with his beautiful eyes of winter gray moved in his sleep to tug her tight against his body, Leila Savea remained among the vanished.

EIGHTEEN hours after the alert went out on the Alliance network, Miane got word that the SUV they were searching for had just been found, abandoned and torched in a gully. She’d made the wrong call. The Alliance clearly harbored one or more Consortium informants. That didn’t surprise her—money talked, regardless of race.

Rage still burned ice-cold inside her.

At those who had taken her people, at the traitors within BlackSea itself, and at herself, for making the wrong choice. She knew rationally that all she’d had were bad choices, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this wrong call might’ve killed a vulnerable member of her pack who was counting on Miane to get it right.

“Emergency services found no body in the wreckage,” she reminded herself.

That truth provided a slender reed of hope, but the anger that lived in her wouldn’t ease until all her people were home and the ones who’d dared harm them had been brutally punished. There was strength in that anger, a cold-eyed and ruthless determination.

However, Miane knew no alpha could function as a true alpha if she ran on anger alone. That would poison her entire pack, leave it no place anyone wanted to be. Water-based changelings might not be like other changeling groups, might be other even amongst their own kind, but they were changeling and had a human side. As such, they were social enough to need a community on some level.

And even though the mammalian creatures in BlackSea often found it hard to understand those whose blood ran colder, they were one. The traitors didn’t count, would be eliminated the instant Miane confirmed their identities. All the others . . . they were one, because water was life and they were united in protecting that precious resource.

As they were united by their very otherness.

When it came to BlackSea’s alpha, she needed to function the same way as the alpha of any other changeling pack. Miane had to hold her people together, make sure they had what they needed for their souls to bloom and to stay strong. For Persephone, a little girl who’d been kept captive in a small room for months, torn away from her mother after having already lost her father, that meant a party to celebrate the birthday she’d spent alone and scared and far from home.

Persephone didn’t know the date was wrong; she just knew it was her birthday party.

Miane scooped the still-thin child up into her arms while instinctively maintaining her balance on the gently rocking platform in the center of the floating city that was BlackSea’s heart. There were a number scattered around the world, but Lantia was the biggest, and it was where they held the Conclave on alternate years.

To the world, the Conclave was the ruling group of BlackSea. In truth, it wasn’t a thing but an event—a yearly gathering of as many of BlackSea’s people as could make it. The reason for not always holding it at Lantia wasn’t in fact the water temperature, as outsiders might assume. All healthy BlackSea changelings could survive and thrive in such waters—the ocean, after all, was deep and sweetly cold no matter where you were on Earth.

No, the reason the Conclave switched location between Lantia and Cifica in the tropics, was that it wasn’t fair to always ask packmates from that side of the world to do the traveling.

Persephone and her mother had both missed the last Conclave, had been trapped and alone at that time. As Leila was now.

Forcing back her anger once again, Miane said, “You look like a princess,” to the child in her arms.

Giggling, Persephone fluffed at the pink tulle that cascaded over Miane’s arm. “Mama present.” It was more than she usually said; her speech wasn’t what it should be for her age, the trauma she’d suffered having left more than one mark, but the pack’s healers assured Miane that Persephone was healing.

Children are far more resilient than we give them credit for, their strongest healer had said. Surround her in love, keep her safe, give her the space and freedom to talk about what happened, and Persephone will overcome this, grow into the strong, unique individual she was always meant to be.

Miane could do that, was doing that.

“Your mama gives good presents.” Miane was so damn proud of Persephone’s mother. Olivia had lost her mate at the hands of the murderous bastards who’d taken their small family, and for many changelings, that would’ve been a fatally crippling blow.

That didn’t even factor in Olivia’s torture and imprisonment.

But instead of curling up and dying, the other woman had pulled herself together with a fierce strength of will.

“For our baby,” Olivia had said to Miane while still bruised and battered from her ordeal. “For the baby Cary and I created together in cool waters off the coast of New Zealand.” Tears had been thick in her voice, tears she refused to shed. “I’ll never allow her to feel lost and alone and scared again.”

“I know.” Miane had taken Olivia into her arms, held her close for a long time, until the dam had crashed open, until Olivia had cried brokenly for her lost mate. “I have not a single doubt that you’ll be strong for Persephone,” Miane had said afterward. “But you come to me when you need to grieve—and remember that she needs to grieve, too.”

Persephone might be a baby, only two years old, but she’d been a daddy’s girl. “Talk to her about her father,” Miane had advised her wounded packmate the week after Persephone’s rescue by the Arrows, “answer her questions, and if it gets too hard, you come to me.”

Miane had stayed awake with Olivia that entire night. They’d watched Persephone sleep and then, when Olivia was ready, she’d spoken about the day of the kidnapping, about how she and Persephone had been forcibly separated from Cary, who’d been strong, had fought hard to protect his mate and child . . . and about how Olivia had known when Cary was murdered.

“The mating bond tore in two.” Olivia had slapped her palm flat against her heart. “It tore, like my heart was being ripped apart, and I was bleeding so much I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.” Jagged gasps of air, the echo of the visceral, soul-shredding pain vivid in the brown of her eyes. “I wanted to give up, die right then and there, but I couldn’t.”

Her eyes had lingered on her sleeping child. “I found Cary after so long wandering alone. So long, Miane. He understood me like no one else ever has or ever will. He was me and I was him and we were whole together. Now . . . now I’m in pieces, but Persephone is whole and for her, I’ll endure.”

Miane knew full well Olivia wouldn’t live to a ripe old age. The wound on her soul was too grievous. She’d fight the pain, live until Persephone reached adulthood, and then Olivia would simply not wake up one day—or quietly disappear into the deep, never to emerge.

When the time came, Miane wouldn’t attempt to stop her.

Some wounds no healer could heal. Some pain no drug could soften. Olivia had courage enough to live until her baby was no longer a baby. It was all her alpha could ask of her.

Persephone clapped her hands on Miane’s cheeks right then and smacked an exuberant kiss on her lips. “Happy birthday!”

“Yes,” she said, lightly tickling the little girl, “happy birthday to Persephone. Let’s go see your cake!” She carried the child to a table set up with birthday cake, tiny sandwiches, pretty finger food suitable for little hands and designed to delight young taste buds, cookies, and drinks.

Like all the furniture in Lantia, the table had been bolted down using removable bolts that fit into otherwise concealed slots built into all the floors and walls. It meant they could move things around as needed while still securing them against rogue waves that caused the city to rock more than usual every so often.

For the same reason, all the serving trays had a rubberized grip on the bottom and the cutlery and plates were close to unbreakable while still being biodegradable, should they fly off into the water. BlackSea people were able to retrieve pretty much all such accidental debris, but they never took the ocean for granted. Never took water for granted.

“Minni! Minni!”

Miane held out her hand to the other child running toward her. He caught it easily, then as she pulled back her arm, he used his grip to climb up her body and perch himself on her hip. At which point, she shifted her arm to support his weight.

“Happy birthday, Sephnie!” His ebony-skinned face was bright with good humor.

Persephone smiled and waved at her more vocal packmate.

Costas pointed at his black shorts and pressed blue shirt. “I got party clothes, too.” He patted Miane’s black T-shirt, his next words a loud whisper. “Didn’t your mom get you party clothes?”

Biting the inside of her cheek at the solemn question, Miane managed a sad face. “Yeah, she forgot.” Her mom would forgive her the fib. “Do you think I still get cake?”

Both children nodded firmly.

Snuggling them close for another few seconds, Miane then placed the two gently on their feet. They immediately ran off to play together—though she noticed that Persephone kept looking back to check that her mother was in sight, as she’d done even when held safe in her alpha’s arms.

It would take time for her to accept that Olivia wasn’t going to leave her again. A child that young didn’t understand that her mother had been separated from her under duress. She just knew that she’d been alone and scared and her mom wasn’t there.

Miane’s jaw hurt, she’d clenched it so tight.

A big hand closed over her shoulder, squeezed. “Breathe,” Malachai ordered. “She’s home. We’ll bring the others home, too.”

Some, Miane knew, would return home in boxes.

The rage inside her threatened to flare again, but then Persephone’s laughter lit the air and she remembered that sometimes, good won and evil lost. “Yes,” she vowed. “We’ll bring all our people home.” Including Leila.

Alive or dead, none would be abandoned; none would be forgotten.

Chapter 41

MIDMORNING THE DAY after Ivy received the information about Clara Alvarez, her well-rested husband teleported her and Rabbit to Haven. It was a peaceful and sprawling green estate meant for F-Psy who were fractured—and it was also home to Samuel Rain. The robotics and biofusion expert who’d saved Vasic’s life and who was now determined to build him a working prosthetic could’ve moved out, but he liked it here and had requested to stay.

“Do you have to go see Miane?” Ivy asked.

Vasic had received a message from BlackSea right before they teleported.

“No,” he said into the gentle quiet, his body strong and warm as he stood partially behind her. “With the SUV lead having dead-ended, there’s nothing I can do at this stage but wait until they have another location. The message had photos from Persephone’s birthday celebration—we can look at them together after your meeting.”

Ivy nodded, fiercely proud of the little girl who’d survived the monsters of the Consortium. Ivy wasn’t the empath working with her, but she received regular updates from the young male E who was, and those reports told her Persephone had a defiant spirit that might be wounded but was in no way beaten.

“Do you want me with you?” Vasic asked, curving his hand over her hip. “Samuel asked me to come in for a deep-tissue scan.”

“Go have the scan,” she said. “I think this’ll go better if it’s just me.”

When Vasic nodded, she tilted up her head and pressed a palm to his cheek. “Thank you for the ride.” She was well aware she was ridiculously spoiled in how she could go anywhere in the world she wanted.

Just over three weeks ago, when she’d mentioned she wanted to try a pastry she’d heard about called mille-feuille, Vasic had taken her to a bakery in Paris. “I love you.”

Vasic’s expression didn’t alter, but he turned his head to kiss her palm, while deep within, their bond vibrated with the potent strength of his own emotions. “That’s one thing I never doubt.” A faint smile that made her want to kiss him.

So she did.

Ivy. I’ll teleport us back to bed if you’re not careful.

Laughing at the cool warning that belied the sinful way he was kissing her back, his fingers stroking her hip, she stole another taste before pushing him away. “Stop distracting me.”

His eyes glinted a promise of vengeance. “I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Zen.”

“You can count on it, Mr. Zen.”

Lips curving, Vasic angled his head at Rabbit. “Come on, let’s go see Samuel.”

Rabbit padded off happily at his side.

Ivy took a few moments to watch her husband walk toward the main Haven building—he was so beautiful in motion—before she turned to head to the rose garden where she’d asked to meet Clara. The other woman was already there, seated on a familiar weathered wooden bench, her eyes on the colorful mass of blooms open to the sun and scenting the air.

“Ivy,” she said as she rose, her smile warm.

The manager of Haven was dressed in a pale gray pantsuit paired with an aqua blue shirt, her golden brown hair parted in the center and rolled into a neat knot at the nape and her hands covered by thin black gloves.

“Clara.” Ivy walked forward. “Thank you so much for agreeing to see me.”

“Of course,” Clara said as they both took seats on the bench. “Is it about Samuel? He’s doing very well.”

“No, it’s something else.” Deciding to dive straight into it, she told the other woman about the severe and deadly disintegration of the fabric of the PsyNet. Then she spoke about the two other healthy loci.

When she said, “You’re the third,” Clara’s eyes widened.

“I see,” the former Justice Psy said. “Do you know what sets apart the other two?”

“Not their abilities,” Ivy said. “One is a teleport-capable Tk, the other a J like you.” Then she added what she believed to be the critical factor. “Both are bonded to humans.”

Clara didn’t respond in any visible fashion, as Ivy continued. “I know you have a human husband,” she said quietly. “I need to know if you’re bonded on a psychic level—I swear I’ll protect your privacy. The only people who know or need to know all have their own bonds.” Each and every one understood that it was a gift, not to be harmed. “None of them would betray you.”

Clara’s brown eyes held hers for a long moment, as if she was judging Ivy’s sincerity, before the manager of Haven reached down to quietly tug off the glove on her left hand . . . to reveal a golden band on her ring finger. “His name is Patrick,” she said, her love for him a kiss against Ivy’s senses. “And yes, we’re connected on the psychic level. Mated.”

“How do you keep the bond hidden?” Ivy whispered. “There’s no hint of it in the Net.”

“Anthony helped us,” Clara said, and it wasn’t as big a surprise as it should’ve been. Anthony Kyriakus, after all, was the man who’d created Haven.

“You see, he was already helping me,” Clara continued. “Justice Psy don’t last too long once our internal telepathic shields go.” Shadows in her eyes, memories of all the evil she’d witnessed, evil that had acted like acid on her mind. “That was why he was able to react within microseconds when Patrick and I refused to follow orders and ended up mated.”

A smile that made her entire face glow. “Then, when it became clear my ability to shield was starting to heal”—wonder touched her expression—“Anthony taught me how to take over, how to hide the bond and Patrick’s mind.”

“The only other J I know whose shields spontaneously regenerated is Sophia,” Ivy murmured. “And she’s unique.”

“Sophie and I’ve talked this over,” Clara said. “The only commonality between us is that we both love human men with unbreakable natural shields.” She lifted her gaze from her wedding band. “And love can’t be forced. If there’s another answer . . . There are so many hurt Js in the world.” Her hands fisted in her lap, pain drenching her voice. “You say the PsyNet is healthy around me—maybe that has something to do with the regeneration, too.”

Ivy was beginning to realize that if her suspicions were true, then the single fact that connected Stefan, Sophia, and Clara had far more staggering implications than even she had guessed. “The shielding technique Anthony taught you,” she said. “It must be phenomenal to hide your bond with Patrick so effectively.”

A pause, before Clara said, “The shields are very strong, but the thing is . . . I always had the sense something was helping Patrick and me keep our secret.”

“The NetMind protected Es for a century.” A tremor of understanding ran through Ivy’s bones. “I can see it doing that for a human mind in the PsyNet.”

“Would you like to see?” Clara’s question was whispered, secret.

Ivy nodded and joined Haven’s manager in the PsyNet. The J-Psy slipped her own shields around Ivy’s, with Ivy’s permission—after Ivy warned Vasic what was about to happen. Only after Ivy was isolated did Clara drop a second layer of shields, and Ivy saw the autumnal warmth and cool blue rope of the other woman’s psychic bond with another mind. That second mind wasn’t Psy, though it shone as bright, in shades of icy blue. And it sat not in the PsyNet but not quite out of it.

No Psy mind could reach it, could hack it. Clara was the only point of contact.

Conscious she’d been given a gift, Ivy slipped back out of Clara’s shields when the woman opened them. “Thank you,” she said on the physical plane. “Why did you trust me?”

“J-Psy get good at judging people. I know your heart, Ivy Jane Zen, and I know it’s good.” Clara rose to her feet. “I have to go, but call me if you need anything else.”

“I’d like to meet Patrick.” Ivy had only glimpsed him at Zie Zen’s funeral. “He seems fascinating.”

“Oh, he is.” A sudden smile. “Aggravating at times, but always wonderful.”

Ivy sat in place long after Clara left, turning over the consequences of what she’d discovered. It all made sense—the NetMind’s bloody images of loss and desecration, the fact that the PsyNet was barely maintaining coherence despite the number of active Es, why the Forgotten had a healthy network and the Psy didn’t.

Because when the Forgotten left the Net, they took their human mates with them, while the Psy were told to sever those bonds or to suffocate them out of existence. Until in this generation, there were only three known human minds in the PsyNet.

Ivy understood now.

Until the dawn of Silence, the PsyNet had never been populated only by Psy. Changelings and humans had both been a presence—though, in the case of changelings, that presence would’ve been minor at most. From what Ivy knew as a result of her friendship with Sascha, changelings tended to pull their mates into their own psychic networks.

Not so with humans.

There were no records of humans being an active presence in the PsyNet, but even the old Councils hadn’t succeeded in erasing eons of history that spoke of human-Psy marriages and relationships.

Such relationships had been unremarkable before Silence.

Ivy’s own family history included multiple human ancestors.

The human race had therefore always been part of the PsyNet’s psychic fabric, providing a mysterious and indefinable energy without which the Psy race’s entire future hung in the balance.

And most humans hated most of the Psy.

Letters to Nina

From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

June 11, 2077

Nina,

I’ve acquired a second Psy friend. It turns out my two friends have known each other longer than I’ve known either one of them—but to induct me into their inner circle was a matter of trust that couldn’t be rushed.

Having glimpsed the war they’re fighting, the lies hidden beneath more lies that they seek to expose, I understand their caution. This second man, he’s far more suspicious than my first friend and impossibly more dangerous.

Somehow, I have become the voice of reason. Don’t laugh too hard. I find that the more I minister to my parishioners, the more I learn myself.

But nothing will ever change my heart. It bears only your name.

Love,

Xavier

Chapter 42

KALEB WAS AT home with Sahara when she got the comm call from Ivy Jane, with Sascha Duncan also looped into the discussion. He and Sahara had been on the deck of their home on the outskirts of Moscow, Kaleb running through a martial arts routine, while Sahara did the yoga that made her so graceful.

Darkness had fallen on their side of the world, and the stars had been bright overhead as they moved quietly on the deck lit only by the delicate metal lamps Sahara had set out. She’d bought those lamps in a market in Istanbul when he took her there for dinner one night, both of them in disguise.

“So we can act as young as we are,” Sahara had said to him with a grin, wrapping her arms around his neck. “No one watching, no one expecting us to behave.”

They’d eaten at a tiny café hidden deep inside the markets, surrounded by locals who’d looked at them sideways until Sahara pulled her favorite trick and spoke to them in their own language—right down to the subdialect used in the market area. By the time they left, she was fast friends with half the clientele and was well on the way to charming the other half. He’d just watched her laugh, watched her sparkle, and been happy.

She’d fallen in love with the metal lamps sold at what felt like half the shops in the markets, had scooped up four for their deck. Then she’d bought him a glass “genie” bottle for his study, the color of the finely blown glass a mix between red and cerise. He’d come home one day to find the bottle filled with blank “wishes” that he was permitted to write on and redeem at will, with Sahara acting as his genie.

And that bottle, it never ran out, no matter how many wishes he redeemed.

Dance for me, he’d written on more than one.

Watching Sahara create music with her body was a gift of which he never became tired. He’d been planning to ask if she’d dance a little tonight after she finished her yoga, but then had come the call from Ivy Jane.

He would’ve stayed outside while Sahara took it in privacy, but she popped her head back outside to say that Ivy and Sascha wanted him to listen in. Teleporting himself a towel, he rubbed the sweat off his face, then left the towel around his neck as he joined Sahara in front of the living room comm screen, on which she usually programmed images from her favorite dances.

“You might as well know.” Lines of tiredness marked Ivy’s face. “I’ve already told Vasic and Aden. At some point, we’re going to have to go public.”

When she began to speak, what she told them made too much sense. In particular, the near-total lack of human connections was the one thing that made the post-Silence PsyNet different from the Forgotten’s ShadowNet.

Unfortunately, she was also right in her understanding of the current state of Psy-human relations. “The majority of humans will happily watch the Psy race collapse into oblivion,” Kaleb said to Sahara once the other two women had signed off. “And the majority of Psy think humans are beneath them.” The latter was pure stupidity, but Silence had fostered an arrogance that was going to take decades to ameliorate.

“I don’t know,” Sahara murmured, a look on her face that meant she was strategizing. “Maybe it’s simply a case of giving humans and Psy reasons to interact. The heart will do the rest.”

Kaleb raised his eyebrows. “All such situations will do is give them endless opportunities to ignore each other. That is, if they don’t try to kill one another.”

“Don’t be so cynical.” Scowling, Sahara tugged on the ends of the towel to hold him in place. “You know you believe in love.”

“I believe in loving you.” Always he would love her.

She rose on tiptoe. “I love you back more.”

“Impossible.” She was his life, his heart’s blood.

Hands on her hips, he lifted her into his kiss. When she hooked her legs around him, it was instinct to move forward, press her back against the wall. Then his eyes landed on the wall that was his destination.

He stopped.

Following his gaze, Sahara smiled. “Our wall of memories is filling up.”

“Yes.” The photograph that had stopped him in his tracks was from a time when he’d teleported into DarkRiver territory to pick her up from Faith’s and discovered Judd had come by to say hello.

Kaleb hadn’t seen Sahara take the photograph, but it was of him and Judd in conversation, the rogue Arrow smiling faintly while Kaleb stood with his hands in the pockets of his suit pants, his head slightly angled in a listening position and his shoulders relaxed under the plain white of a long-sleeved business shirt.

He looked . . . open, unshielded against a man who was lethal should he want to be. But then, Judd was also the man who’d fought for Kaleb when even Kaleb didn’t believe in his ability to hold firm against the darkness.

Some friendships were set in stone.

“I love that photo.” Hugging her arms around his neck, Sahara kissed his jaw. “The backdrop of firs, your body language and his. It’s obvious you’re friends. Good friends.”

“We need one with Xavier, too.” The priest was the only other man Kaleb considered a friend. “When he’s back.” Father Xavier Perez was currently in a remote and mountainous part of South America searching for his Nina.

Kaleb and Judd had both offered to teleport him to the woman they believed to be the lover for whom he searched, but Xavier had made it clear he needed to fight this battle himself. In the interim, Kaleb had discovered it was difficult to practice patience while one of his closest friends walked alone in the wilderness. It made him understand why Judd and Xavier had been so concerned about him in the years before he broke Sahara free from her prison.

“You walk in aloneness, my friend,” Xavier had said one day not long into their acquaintance, the other man’s expression holding a peace that came from deep within the soul.

Kaleb could still remember his response. “There is strength in being without vulnerability.” A false response even then, because he carried in his heart a vulnerability he would never give up, for to give it up would mean giving up Sahara.

She tried to lower her legs now, laughed and stayed in position when he refused to release her. “We’ll get a photo with Xavier as soon as he returns with Nina.”

Kaleb went silent.

“What is it? You’re thinking deep thoughts.” Dark blue eyes holding his as she reached up to brush strands of hair off his forehead, the charms on her bracelet catching the light.

“I’m wondering how so many people became entwined in my life.” He was used to thinking of himself as a lone wolf but for Sahara. Only he had Judd and Xavier, too.

And then there was Leon.

Sahara’s father continued to call him “son,” continued to treat him with an absentminded paternal affection that Kaleb didn’t know how to process. He’d been beaten and tormented by the only father figure he knew. He’d always understood that Leon was different, that the man loved his daughter, but Kaleb had never expected that paternal warmth to be turned in his direction.

“These people are in your life because you made the choice to be their friend.” Sahara rubbed her nose gently against his. “You chose not to betray their loyalty even when it might have been expedient, and to stand with them when they needed your help.”

“You make me sound good.” He wasn’t, she knew that.

“You know how to be loyal, Kaleb.” A whisper, her breath kissing his lips. “How to love.”

He had no rebuttal. He’d been hers since the moment they met. “Because of you.”

“Being loved by you . . .” Her eyes shone like jewels as the psychic bond between them blazed with that glorious light that touched even the twisted heart of him.

He loved, was loved.

Kaleb needed nothing else.

“You still occasionally covet world domination, though,” Sahara said with a grin after catching the edge of his thoughts.

“A small thing.”

Shoulders shaking, she squeezed her legs around him. “If you can love that deeply, that passionately, why not humans and Psy?”

“A hundred years of hatred and distrust and arrogance.”

Sahara waved a hand. “A small thing.”

And though they were discussing the possible and catastrophic end of the Psy race, Kaleb felt his lips curve. “Of course. You believe the heart will conquer all.”

She pushed at his shoulders. “I’m going to have the last laugh, Kaleb Krychek, just you wait.” After which, she kissed him, the wrong thing to do if she wanted to condition him to change his opinion.

But Sahara didn’t think that way. Neither did he. Not when he was with her.

“Let’s shower,” she said against his lips. “We’re sticky from the exercise, and I’ve got to start plotting how to get humans and Psy to look at one another not as enemies, but as potential lovers.”

Whatever their disagreements on racial politics, being naked with Sahara was one of Kaleb’s favorite things. He loved sliding his hands over her skin, loved having her mind linked to his while he caressed her in different ways until he knew exactly what gave her the greatest pleasure. Of course, she did the same to him.

Kaleb didn’t mind. He was hers to do with as she wished.

Tonight he pressed his hands to the tile above her head as she laughed and stole kisses and continued to argue with him as the water pounded down on his back. He met her arguments with his own even as he pressed more heavily into her, his rigid erection shoving impatiently against her abdomen. Shivering, she rubbed against him, and when she kissed him this time, her smile sank into him, her hand stroking up to curve over his nape.

He loved the way she held him, so possessive and demanding.

Kaleb. She closed her fingers over his stone-hard penis.

His body jerked but it wasn’t in rejection. He was simply never ready for the jolt of pleasure that was Sahara’s touch. When am I going to be used to you?

Maybe if we cause a few more earthquakes.

I think the seismologists are confused enough as it is. He could control his violent telekinetic power during sex, but only by punching it deep into the earth. It had certain repercussions.

Nibbling at his jaw, Sahara said, Want to stop?

Never. Kaleb moved one hand down to fondle her breast, cupping the warm silken roundness, then running the pad of his thumb over the hard nub of her nipple. Moaning in the back of her throat, Sahara released him, nuzzled her way down his neck. “I need you.”

Lifting her with his hands under her thighs, he slid his erection through her delicate folds before pushing deep into her. She was so tight around him, but they fit; they fit perfectly. Gasping at his entry, she wrapped her arms around his neck, her legs already wrapped around his hips. “I love how you feel inside me.”

Kaleb shuddered at her words, undone.

He rocked slowly into her, and when she tugged down his head and demanded a kiss, he opened his mouth over hers and they danced in love. Slow and gentle, skin sliding against skin and breaths mingling as the water ran down his back.

The earthquake was inevitable.

As was their solemn conversation after the shower, when they lay tangled in bed. All jokes aside, the PsyNet was in serious trouble. It wasn’t critical, not yet, so they had a little breathing room, but that room wouldn’t last forever. “You’re never going to be at risk,” he told Sahara. “If need be, I can haul the clean sections of the Net together, create a small but functional network.”

Sahara rose up beside him on her elbow, her eyes troubled. “You made a promise.”

One hand curving around her throat, he said, “I’ll keep it. I’ll fight to save the PsyNet and the Psy race.” For her, he’d save instead of kill. And for her, he’d build instead of destroy. “But I won’t flounder in a doomed network, and never will I leave you in danger.”

Not even you, he telepathed, can force me to watch you die when I can stop it. He’d been made helpless to save her once. Never again.

Furious emotion filled her eyes. “I would never do that,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I would never hurt you that way.”

He realized he’d made her angry rather than desolate. “Then walk with me into this,” he demanded. “Tell me you won’t fight me if I ever make the call. Tell me we’ll do it together.”

Her eyes held his own and he knew his gaze was obsidian, devoid of stars. “I trust you with every tiny particle of my being and every corner of my soul,” Sahara said. “If you ever say there’s no hope, that it’s time for the last throw of the dice, then I’ll be right there beside you.”

Shifting his hold to grip her jaw, he kissed her hard. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s figure out how to fix this so we never have to throw those particular dice.” Because while he knew he’d save her, Kaleb also knew the loss of millions of other lives would devastate his Sahara.

To keep her whole, he’d have to ensure the PsyNet did not fall.