Shield of Winter

Chapter 43

SAMUEL RAIN HAD disappeared so cleanly that most people assumed he was dead. Zie Zen wasn’t most people. His contacts had unearthed rumors the man was alive but brain damaged. Depending on the depth of the latter, Rain might well be of no use, but Zie Zen wasn’t about to assume anything. It had become increasingly clear that the man who had initially come up with the concept and underlying principles of biofusion was the only one who might have the solution to Vasic’s deadly problem.

At the time of Rain’s disappearance over a year ago, he had been residing in California. That meant nothing. He could’ve been transported anywhere in the world in the intervening period, but it was a starting point. Nikita Duncan and Anthony Kyriakus were the two most powerful Psy in the area, so Zie Zen would start with them. Nikita, he tabled for now. She might be ruthless, but she tended to be open about her financial interests—this type of long-term subterfuge didn’t seem her style.

Anthony on the other hand . . . the head of the NightStar Group was used to dealing with damaged minds. Regardless of Silence, F-Psy still went insane more regularly than other sectors of the population. That meant NightStar had private facilities for the care of its damaged members, and according to everything Zie Zen had been able to unearth, the family did provide care, rather than simply executing or hiding away its malfunctioning elements.

Decision made, Zie Zen contacted Anthony on a private comm line known to a very few. It was late to call, but Zie Zen knew Anthony was often in his office long past midnight. The other man’s interests had aligned with Zie Zen’s on a number of occasions, and Zie Zen considered him a courteous ally of sorts.

The former Councilor’s face appeared onscreen in seconds. “Zie Zen,” Anthony Kyriakus said in welcome, the silver at the temples of his black hair glinting in the overhead light.

“Anthony.” Zie Zen took in this man who understood family, who’d fought for his daughter’s right to live with a cold ruthlessness that to many had seemed to spring from a mercenary motivation, and considered how much to reveal. “I’m calling in a marker.”

“You’re the only man to whom I can bear being beholden,” Anthony said. “What can I do for you?”

“I need to know the whereabouts of Samuel Rain.”

Anthony’s expression gave nothing away. “He’s rumored to be dead.”

“Rumors mean little.” In the end, it wasn’t a difficult decision to lay talk of markers and debts aside and trust the other man with the truth. Zie Zen knew Anthony hadn’t fought for his daughter because she was the most gifted and, therefore, most lucrative foreseer in the world. No, he’d fought for her out of the protective instincts of a father for his child. “I ask for Vasic.”

This time Anthony did react, his eyes sharpening. “Is the gauntlet failing?”

“Yes.”

Anthony’s response was unanticipated. “The Net can’t afford to lose him—no one truly knows how much he’s done behind the scenes in the past decade, how many lives he’s saved.” An intent look. “I didn’t realize he was one of yours.”

Zie Zen could’ve let Anthony believe Vasic was simply another contact, but he didn’t. He wanted to publicly own his relationship with the child who was his blood. “He’s my great-grandson.”

A blink. “A relationship no one in the Net suspects. Masterfully played, Grandfather.”

Once, Zie Zen would’ve smiled at the honorific address, knowing it was both sincere and the rueful acknowledgment of an opponent who’d been bested. Today, he simply asked his question. “Do you know anything that will help me track down Samuel Rain?”

This time it was Anthony who caught Zie Zen unawares. “I have Rain,” he said. “He’s been in NightStar’s care since an attempt at psychic manipulation left him with severe bleeding in the brain.”

Unprepared for such immediate success, Zie Zen paused to gather his thoughts. “How?”

“You will find this apt; the SnowDancer wolves discovered him badly injured and I asked Vasic to pick him up after the leopards contacted me through my daughter.”

“My grandson is unaware who it is he saved?” Zie Zen asked, thinking of all the myriad connections that had led to this instant.

Anthony nodded. “He was on an Arrow operation at the time and could literally only give me a minute. I sent him what he needed to complete the ’port, which he did in under five seconds—and I believe from a distance.” The former Councilor’s expression held respect for the level and precision of Vasic’s skill; being born with an ability was only the start—what Vasic could do, it spoke of intense training, concentration, and intelligence.

“I’m not certain if he had any physical contact with Rain,” Anthony continued. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t have recognized the man. Rain’s face was covered in blood and distorted by a rictus of pain.” He paused, shook his head slightly. “And Vasic had no reason to follow up on it with me. He must’ve thought the man he rescued was another random victim, especially since Rain’s disappearance wasn’t reported until much later.”

This time, the pause was longer, but Zie Zen didn’t interrupt.

“Given the apparent success of the biofusion program,” Anthony murmured, “I never considered that Vasic might need access to Rain.”

Putting aside the ironic vagaries of fate, and the question of why a man who’d been an asset to those in power at the time had been targeted, Zie Zen said, “Rain’s current status?”

“He is . . . damaged.” Anthony clasped his hands behind his back. “I don’t know if he’s capable of assisting Vasic, but I also don’t know if he isn’t.”

“I will send through the files—”

Anthony shook his head. “No, Rain isn’t functional on that level. He can’t seem to focus on data—Vasic must meet him in person if we are to get a true indication of whether the man has any capability to do what he once did.”

Zie Zen understood the situation was grim, for Anthony wasn’t a man to exaggerate things, but it was a chance, however slim. “I’ll speak to Vasic, arrange a time.” Looking into the other man’s eyes, Zie Zen said, “Has it been worth it, Anthony? The choices you’ve made?” The ex-Councilor was considerably younger, but he was the patriarch of an influential and gifted family, had been faced with as many pitiless decisions as Zie Zen.

“I’ve lost a daughter,” Anthony said at last, “seen another find freedom, have a son who chooses to align himself with me though he was raised by his mother, my foreseers are more content and less in pain, but their minds remain fragile . . . I don’t know if it all balances out in the end, but I know I’ve done all I could. It is the only thing a man can do.”

Absolute focus in the eyes that remained locked with Zie Zen’s . . . before one of the most powerful men in the PsyNet bowed his head in an act of quiet honor. “Do not doubt yourself now, Grandfather,” Anthony said when he looked up. “Without you, we wouldn’t be standing in a time without Silence. You laid the foundations on which Krychek, Vasic, the empaths, my daughter, and I all stand.”

It was, Zie Zen thought, an epitaph a man might be proud to call his own. Zie Zen wanted more. He wanted a life for his great-grandson, a real life, such as the one Zie Zen had lived for twenty-three short, wonderful years. Sunny, I am alone without you.

How can you be alone, Z? I’m here.

At that instant, he could almost touch her . . . and he knew his mortal time would come to an end very soon. Not yet, he whispered to her. First I must save the son who is the best of both of us. Vasic might not carry Sunny’s blood, but he carried her heart.