Shield of Winter

Chapter 56

ENERGY PULSED OFF the other woman. “It appears Eben Kilabuk is the child of a contractual dispute—the conception and fertilization agreement was drawn up by an incompetent lawyer, and while the mother believed she had the right to full custody, the father challenged it for unknown reasons when Eben was ten. He won.”

Ivy thought of how Eben had asked to call his mother during the time the teenager had stayed at the compound. “He never bonded with his father.”

“Yes.” Sahara held her gaze, dark blue eyes intense. “And his mother, a low-level Tk, just survived an outbreak that took out everyone else in her building.”

Aden stirred. “Does the theory hold for the other outliers?”

“Yes.” Sahara thrust a hand through her hair, messing it up. “All the anomalous survivors I was able to track eventually connect back to an E.”

That also, Ivy thought, explained the other commonality among the survivors—a fractured Silence that was accepted by the individual. Bonds couldn’t be formed within the cage of the Protocol.

“I know the data is thin yet,” Sahara said, “and there’s no way to manipulate the emotional bonds to protect everyone, but I thought it was important to share it.”

Ivy barely heard the qualification. She could feel something pushing at the back of her mind, a huge knowledge, but she couldn’t reach it. Frustrated, she met Sahara’s gaze again. “The bonds, why aren’t they showing up on the Net?” Ivy had grown up knowing she was loved and wanted, and yet the connection with her parents was nowhere in existence on the psychic plane.

Sahara looked to Kaleb, who said, “They’re there but concealed.” The cardinal’s voice was obsidian in its controlled power . . . and his love for Sahara so absolute, it burned against Ivy’s senses.

Sahara’s emotions were as potent, as deep, and oddly—as old. As if the two had known each other far longer than they were said to have been together.

Kaleb continued to speak as Ivy considered the mystery of the couple’s relationship.

“I had to make specific requests to see each one Sahara suspected.” Slipping off the tie on the other woman’s hair, he ran his palm over the dark strands. “The NetMind has been protecting the vulnerable for a long time.”

Ivy watched the cardinal interact with Sahara, understood intellectually that the two were “mated,” to use the changeling term, but though she felt their connection, she had difficulty comprehending how someone so hard, so cold, could’ve bonded with anyone. Much less powerfully enough to rip through the fabric of Silence itself.

A polite telepathic knock on her mind. When Ivy accepted, Sahara said, You do realize your Arrow is just as lethal as my Kaleb?

Your Kaleb only acts “human” with you.

Um, have you noticed Vasic touching anyone else?

Okay, Ivy conceded, you may have a point. Vasic didn’t even touch Aden that she’d seen, and the two might as well be twin brothers, they were so close. I’ll try not to sidle away next time Kaleb appears.

Sahara hid her smile behind a raised hand. It’s all right. The first time Vasic teleported me anywhere, I was half-afraid he’d decide to lose me mid-’port.

Ivy reached up to touch her Arrow’s hand. His fingers curled around her own, though he was listening to the conversation between Aden and Kaleb. The two of us, she said to Sahara, need to have lunch together after this is all over.

Yes—Sahara’s ocean deep gaze held hers, solemn and haunted—after this is all over.

Both of them knew that might be a long time coming.

UNABLE to sleep despite the fact she’d attended a bad outbreak with Vasic two hours earlier that had come close to wiping her out, Ivy sat up in bed that night and gnawed on the knowledge she could feel just beyond her reach.

“Ivy, you need to rest.”

She looked down at Vasic, the light from the streetlamps coming through the thinly opened blinds marking him in tiger stripes. “Shh”—she bent to press a kiss to his shoulder—“I’m thinking.”

Rising from bed after a minute, he left the bedroom and came back with a hot nutrient drink. “You’re losing too much weight.”

Ivy frowned. “What ab—”

“I already had mine.” He tapped her on the nose, the affectionate act making her toes curl. “Now stop stalling and drink. I drowned it in your caramel syrup.”

She stuck out her tongue at him but accepted the glass. Taking a sip to find he’d made it a drinkable temperature, she narrowed her eyes as he sat down beside her and pulled up something on a reader. “That better not be another manual.”

“I thought you were thinking?” He looked pointedly at her glass as Rabbit raised his head in his basket, ears pricked.

Gulping the drink, Ivy put the empty glass on the bedside table and sat up on her knees facing him. His eyes went to her breasts, her nipples pushing shamelessly against the camisole she’d worn to bed with her flannel pants. “Focus,” she said through the pulsing ache he aroused in her with a single look. “I need to see the bonds Sahara told us about.”

“I can contact Krychek.” He patted the bed, and an ecstatic Rabbit scampered over to curl up in his favorite spot at the bottom end.

“No.” She ran her fingers along the ridges of Vasic’s abdomen, scrunching up her forehead in thought. “I have this nagging sense that he isn’t naturally built to see the bonds. It seems more like the purview of an E.”

Vasic nodded slowly. “It might be why the NetMind can only show him pieces.”

Yes, Ivy thought. Because psychic minds were wired differently, depending on their designation. “Sascha told me the NetMind likes empaths.” She nibbled on her lower lip, made a decision. “It can’t hurt to ask.”

Snuggling to his side, she opened her eyes on the psychic plane and wasn’t surprised to see her Arrow right beside her. The black velvet night of the PsyNet, each mind a glittering star, was now “contaminated” with sparks of color, but those sparks couldn’t seem to reach the stars . . . as if blocked by the invisible tendrils of a terrible, voracious corruption.

Ivy put her palm over Vasic’s heart, anchored herself in the steadfast strength of him before she said, “NetMind?” It felt foolish to attempt to contact a vast neosentience this way, but she couldn’t figure out any other. “May I please speak to you?”

“???”

Her heart kicked at the overwhelming and immediate sense that she was no longer alone inside her mind. Joy was a waterfall on her senses, flowers falling over her eyes as a sense of infinite sorrow, of such a long wait, made her want to sob. “I need to see,” she said when the raw emotional cascade faded enough that she could think. “I need to see the bonds I have with others.”

“???”

Thinking of how the neosentience had greeted her, Ivy tried again, this time by visualizing her loved ones as she asked the question.

It was as if a filter was placed over her mind. Her visual field changed to show a Net lit with faint golden lines. She could see her parents on those lines, her friends from the settlement, from the compound . . . and she could see Aden.

Him she could understand, but there were other Arrows, including total strangers.

Vasic wasn’t visible, but she sensed him all around her, their shields interlinked. Inside her pulsed the driving need to reach out across the void to him, lock her soul to his. His own need was a dark, passionate force that stole her breath, but he fought it. Stubborn, protective Arrow.

Multihued stars falling around her, racing from a voracious rain of black arrows. Ivy grinned and replied to the NetMind by creating an image of the stars pouncing on the arrows. It laughed and the laughter was a dazzling kaleidoscope that she tried to telepath to Vasic. Can you see?

A glimpse. It’s . . . extraordinary. His heart beat under her cheek, steady and solid and alive. Can you show me the linkage?

I think so.

Vasic was quiet for several minutes. There aren’t enough Arrows.

I wouldn’t expect to be connected to them all.

Yes, but you’re already connected to more than you should be—through Aden, and if it’s through Aden, you should be connected to every single Arrow in the squad.

Because Aden, she understood, was their acknowledged and accepted leader. “Is Aden particularly close to any other Arrows?” she said out loud.

“There are three or four senior Arrows with whom he works on a regular basis, but he knows and is aware of the mental health of every single member of the squad.”

So, again, she should be connected to them all through Aden, yet Ivy saw only a scattering.

Deciding to focus on those connections, she traced them outward . . . and found all but one Arrow she could see through Aden appeared to have no other connection to anyone. Abbot was the single exception. That didn’t make sense, since Arrows were all connected to one another. Unless— “It cuts off at the second layer,” she murmured, even as she realized these bonds were different from the kind of bond that tied Sahara and Kaleb to each other.

She’d thought fractured Silence was a necessity, but clearly it was simply something that often happened to coexist alongside these ties. A majority of the squad walked the edge of absolute Silence, and yet the golden links had formed . . . almost as if they were so necessary, all that was needed was a single crack for it to take hold. Such as the loyalty that bound the members of the squad to one another or the responsibility an Arrow felt for the safety of his E.

Chewing on that, she traced her link to Jaya, the other E’s constellation of bonds opening up in front of her as if she was flying over a city lit up for the night. She didn’t know the minds in Jaya’s network except for Abbot and Aden. Jaya, too, was linked to unknown Arrows through the leader of the squad, but they were different from the ones in Ivy’s group.

Jaya’s network held a surprise: another E. Perhaps a family member. That E was linked only to a tiny number of others, no secondary layer. Ivy woke Jaya up with a telepathic hail, though she knew her friend needed the rest. This was too important. Jaya, do you have another empath in your family? What Gradient?

Jaya’s sleep-hazy voice mumbled, Yes, a child. Untested for E abilities, but I think he’s probably around 3 or 4 on the Gradient. Why?

Go back to sleep. I’ll tell you later.

Okay.

“We’re the Band-Aids,” she whispered, sitting up to face her Arrow. “I get it now. I understand how we can save the Net, why there are so many of us.”

Vasic spread the fingers of one hand on her lower back. “Tell me.”

“The Es need to find ways to connect with a circle of people. Jaya and I are both on the high end of the Gradient, can share our immunity with a secondary layer, but others will only be able to shield those with whom they’re directly bonded.”

She knew she wasn’t explaining it properly, told herself to slow down.

Then Vasic spoke. “You have a direct bond with Aden, but you can also protect those with whom he has a bond. A weaker E would only have been able to protect Aden.”

“Yes!” Ivy shoved both hands through her hair, trying to contain the beautiful audacity of the image in her mind. It would mean restructuring the entire PsyNet, but it could work. It would work! “One E, I think, can only protect a finite number of people. That’s why I can only see some of the Arrows.”

“How many will depend on the E’s psychic strength.”

“I’m guessing, yes.” Spreading out her hands, she drew a diagram of her vision in the air. “But isolated clusters aren’t enough—it’s no use shielding individuals if the Net crumbles around them.” The psychic fabric was too riddled by infection, too damaged to sustain itself. “To hold the PsyNet together, we need to create a massive honeycomb pattern of interlinked clusters across the world.”

“Stitch the Net back together using the Es as the glue?”

Ivy grabbed his face, kissed him. “Exactly!” Tumbling onto his chest when he nudged at her back, she wriggled up to straddle him. “I saw serious damage directly outside the area Jaya and I cover with our clusters, but inside? Vasic, it’s strong as steel.”

“If you’re right,” he said, sliding his hands up her rib cage, “the only stumbling block remains the issue of emotional connections and how to create them.”

Ivy blew out a breath and fell forward onto his chest on crossed arms, but she wasn’t about to give up. “Are there any Arrows who aren’t already paired with an empath? Ones who aren’t linked to me through Aden, either.”

“Yes, a number couldn’t be pulled off core tasks.”

Core tasks. Hunting the serial killers who continued to prowl the Net. “Would they talk to me?” she asked, not voicing the dark truth.

Vasic paused. “Yes, two of them are at Central Command and available to talk.” He sat up. “We’ll have to go now to catch them.”

Dressing quickly, Ivy cuddled Rabbit when he bounded over, ready for an adventure. “Can he come?” The Arrows had cared for their pet more than once already, but Ivy didn’t assume welcome.

“Rabbit is now an accepted fixture,” Vasic said, and teleported them into a lush green space she’d never have known was underground if he hadn’t already told her of it. The kiss of moonlight on the trees was a muted silver, the starlit sky above a perfect illusion.

“Amin is here.”

Following Vasic’s gaze, Ivy saw a uniform-clad Arrow emerge from the moonlit shadows, his skin the darkest brown Ivy had ever seen. He ignored Rabbit’s curious presence to walk over to Vasic and Ivy. “What do you need?” he asked Vasic.

“Ivy will explain.”

“An experiment.” She smiled, though she could feel nothing from this man, as she’d once been unable to from Vasic. “Would you mind spending some time with me?”

Amin’s eyes met Vasic’s in a silent question before he said, “All right.”

“Thank you.” Inviting him to walk with her, Vasic on her other side, she’d only gone a few steps when Rabbit scampered over, tail wagging triple time. “You like this place, huh?”

“Woof!”

Then he was off again, zipping around the corner. From the bark Vasic heard, their pet had located Ella. Sure enough, he led the lithely muscled brunette to them ten seconds later. Ella, too, agreed with Ivy’s request to spend time with her, and the four of them walked along the pathways of the otherwise empty green area.

Catching his eye almost ten minutes of stilted conversation later, Ivy telepathed, A little help?

I don’t know how to chat, he reminded her, because it was the truth. They may well consider me deranged if I begin now.

Ivy’s lips twitched. Stop making jokes, she said, though Vasic wasn’t aware he’d done so. Amin and Ella know you, trust you. Please, try?

I can’t promise success, Ivy. You must remember who I was before you. That is where they are now. In the cold numbness that permitted them to do what needed to be done.

I understand.

Vasic didn’t bother to engage the other two Arrows in conversation; he went right to the heart of the matter. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” It was impossible to separate the two voices that answered.

“Then you need to trust Ivy.”

It shattered an unknown wall in him when they didn’t hesitate. Turning to Ivy, Ella said, “If you have Vasic’s trust, you have ours. What do you need from us?”

Ivy blinked. “It’s done.” Laughing, she jumped into Vasic’s arms.

Amin’s mind touched his. She truly is yours.

Yes. He looked into two pairs of dark eyes. Life isn’t only for other people. It was a reality it had taken him a long time to accept. We’re permitted to exist, too.

Neither Amin’s nor Ella’s expression altered, but he could read them as only a fellow squad member could, and he knew both were shaken. Releasing Ivy after drawing the scent of her into his lungs, he listened as she turned and laid out the facts for his fellow Arrows.

“The connection,” she said, “is through Vasic, which makes complete sense.” I’ve also lost two others that I was linked to through Aden, so I must be maxed out on the number of people I can protect.

That won’t matter once the entire empathic network is in place, Vasic pointed out. There will be multiple failsafes.

“Does this connection equate to a security vulnerability?” Ella asked.

“I can’t access your minds or your emotions if that’s what you mean,” Ivy said, “but I’ll be honest—I have no idea how it may affect you. If this is meant to cure the Net, the connection to me could equal a change in your emotional equilibrium.”

“Understood.” Amin was the one who spoke. “We’re aware of what’s been happening to Arrows linked to empaths. It’s an acceptable risk.”

Ivy’s face was suddenly stricken. You don’t think I influenced you to be with me somehow? she asked Vasic. I swear I didn’t do it consciously if I did.

Vasic closed his hand over her nape, her curls warm against the back of his hand. All you did was haul me into the light. I could’ve walked away at any point. I chose to stay. I will always choose to stay.

The knot in Ivy’s throat was a huge, wet thing. Unable to speak, she just listened as he thanked the two Arrows for their patience. They turned to walk away, and as they did so, Rabbit raced up to them, tail wagging. The Arrows glanced down, then the male angled his head at Ivy. “What does he want?”

“To play,” she said. “You could throw a stick.” She looked around, but Vasic had already found one in the undergrowth. “He likes chasing it.”

The Arrow took the stick from Vasic and threw it. The two began walking again, were soon out of sight, but from Rabbit’s happy “woofs” for several minutes afterward, he’d found some new stick-throwing minions.

“The connection’s already having a subtle impact,” Ivy whispered, thinking of how both Arrows had ignored Rabbit earlier.

Vasic leaned down to tug the stick from Rabbit when he decided to come back to them, play fighting with the dog until Rabbit let go and raced off in preparation to catch it. “Our minds link to the PsyNet because we need the biofeedback to survive,” he said. “Yet the biofeedback has undeniably been damaged in a subtle but fundamental way for an unknown period of time.”

Ivy’s eyes grew wide. “The link to an empath might be acting as a filter to clean up the biofeedback.” She thought again of the two Arrows who were now connected to her. “They trusted me because of you, but others will put their faith in an E out of desperation.” It wasn’t clean or tidy, but it might just work.

Eyes of winter frost met hers. “We need more data, and we need it as fast as possible.”

Neither one of them slept for the next seventy-two hours, and neither did seven of the other empaths who’d been part of the original group at the compound. Isaiah was still in hospital and needed more rest, but he was alert when awake—and irritable. Ivy was delighted to see him on the road back to his normal self.

The group ran multiple experiments—with complete strangers, with men and women who lived deep in zones of infection, with those who’d already begun to exhibit the erratic behavior that had come to be known as a precursor to an outbreak.

Kaleb and Aden sealed up two severe Net breaches in the interim, while Sahara took the myriad reports that came in, crunched the data, and broke it down into bite-sized pieces that sleep-deprived Es and their Arrow partners could understand.

What they discovered was extraordinary.