Visions of Heat

CHAPTER 19

She almost stopped breathing. Very carefully, she narrowed the already constricted ring of thought. My name is Faith. What's yours?

???

It didn't seem to understand speech, but had reacted to emotion. Biting her lip in the physical world, she took a deep breath and sent out an image of her as she was, dark red hair, less than average height, eyes of a cardinal. She was nothing extraordinary, but she was unique and so was the NetMind. Would it understand her message?

A long silence and she thought she'd lost it, but then she was hit by an avalanche of images, an endless fury that threatened to crush her mind. She staggered against the overload on the psychic plane, and on the physical, her hands clutched at a head that threatened to explode.

Stop! Images of endings, feelings of pain.

Sudden halt. Another brush. Silence.

Slow. Accompanied by forgiveness, happiness at the contact, pictures that conveyed the need for less speed.

Another silence, as if it was thinking or had been scared. Wanting to reassure it, she awakened one of her most cherished memories—the way Vaughn had stroked her hair when she'd spoken of Marine. She tried to put the unbearable tenderness of that caress in the next thought she sent out.

A slower rush of images answered her. Fast even for a Psy, but bearable. It was obvious that the NetMind thought much faster than she did, calculated much more quickly, much more easily, but it was also clearly young. It needed instructions and, even more, it needed care. Understanding its hunger as perhaps only a cardinal F-Psy could, she let it show her whatever it wanted, what mattered to it. A child's secrets.

They were not images per se, more like broken pieces of thought. Pieces of what it knew, snapshots of what it had seen, hints of mystery. It was testing her. She couldn't blame its wariness if the Council had indeed tried to enchain it. With that realization went her final fragile illusions about the leaders of her people, because after scant seconds of contact, she knew that the NetMind was a truly sentient being. As such, it should've been accorded respect and the freedom to develop without interference or manipulation. But then again, the Council didn't even accord those things to its own people.

She wanted to ask the NetMind why it had chosen to speak to her, but could think of no image to represent the question. Finally she sent out an image of her conversing with someone, but her partner was a blur. The answer came back at whiplash speed and she saw what the NetMind saw itself as—the PsyNet given form. It had mimicked the image she'd sent of herself, but colored it in starlit night. She got the sense that in spite of the feminine shape, it was in no way male or female. But it was beautiful and she attempted to say so.

In reply, it sent her a second self-portrait. But this one was eerily different. Not one, but two women stood side by side. The second was without starlight, such pure black that she was shadows within shadows. Faith was still trying to grasp the image when the NetMind sent her a snapshot of dark stars zeroing in on her position.

Faith didn't stop to think. She jumped to another remote anchor point, acting on instinct, instinct that screamed these dark stars were nothing friendly. Either Kaleb Krychek had hired others to do his dirty work or the Council had discovered the NetMind was in contact with an unauthorized individual. She'd have banked on the latter possibility—Krychek wasn't known for frontal attack.

???

It had found her again. When she remained silent, it sent her images of the dark stars becoming lost in the echoes of a false trail. A false trail the NetMind had laid in split seconds. Because it was everywhere.

Relief was a cool wind in her mind. Faith sent it a bouquet in thanks and, like the child it reminded her of, it multiplied the images a hundredfold and gave them back to her. She wanted to laugh, so she sent it copies of those feelings that Vaughn inspired when he teased. It responded by showing her a safe path home, one that would skirt the searchers and set off no alarms.

Her conclusions about it shifted again—while it might be childlike in some senses, it was an endless, ageless intelligence in others. Sending it a rose in thanks, she headed home via the links it had given her the imprints for.

She slipped into her core self like water melting into water, her inner mind recognizing and accepting her roaming self. She was safe, but that safety was precarious at best. Her firewalls might be impregnable, but if survival of the target weren't an issue, a massive burst of open power could kill her in minutes.

Vaughn had spent the night pounding out his frustration on a new sculpture—he couldn't stand to work on the one of Faith. But despite his sleepless night, his skin crawled with energy in the midmorning sun. The cat didn't like being in the same territory as the wolves, even if they were hemmed in by nothing but earth and sky.

"Nice suit." Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha and the one who'd called the morning meeting.

"What's so urgent?" Lucas scowled. "I have a meeting at Duncan HQ."

"Sascha going with you?" The wolf said Sascha's name as he always did, as if he had some intimate claim on her.

"It's a good thing she likes you." Lucas's skin pulled taut over the markings that scored the right side of his face. "Hell yes, she's coming with me. I'm not letting that ice-cold bitch Nikita ignore her. And my mate knows their secrets." An emphasis on my. After years of distance, Vaughn now understood the urge to claim, to mark, to brand.

"Indigo found something you should know about." Hawke jerked his head at his lieutenant.

The tall female with blue-black hair and cool white skin was beautiful. She was also lethal. Vaughn had seen her take down males twice her size without batting an eye. The cat's claws pricked at his skin.

"I ran into a lynx while out on patrol." She stepped up beside her alpha in a smooth movement that told him her skills were as sharp as ever.

"No clearance?" Vaughn frowned. The rules about entry into predatory packs' territories were explicit—if you wanted to visit, you asked permission. Otherwise, in most cases, you were signing on for a quick death. Harsh, but necessary. Without those rules, territorial wars would've destroyed them long ago.

"Yeah. But that's not the fun part." Indigo's jaw was a tight line. "He was out of his mind on Jax."

The mind-altering substance was the Psy poison of choice. "What the hell was a changeling doing on Jax?" Its effect on the Psy was well known—not only did the addictive substance eventually destroy their capacity for speech and rational thought, it stripped them of the very abilities that made them Psy. What did that say about their race?

"He was too out of it to tell me." Indigo's namesake eyes narrowed in fury. "The Psy have to be behind this—they invented the stuff. The fucking Council's trying to poison us since they can't risk an open attack."

"Lynx part of a group?" Lucas asked, his voice having dropped into leopard range.

"I couldn't track any particular scent and they're known to be happier in small family groups." She glanced at her alpha and, at his nod, continued. "He was messed up, and not like the Psy get on Jax. When I found him, he was in human form but his hand was a paw and he had random patches of fur over his body."

Vaughn didn't understand the problem. "He was changing?"

"No. He was stuck midshift. Babbled enough that I was able to figure out he hadn't been able to shift properly since a few days after he first took the damn stuff."

It was a horrifying thought. To be unable to be the animal was akin to losing one's soul. "Where is he?" Vaughn felt pity for the creature. That was what made him changeling rather than pure, savage beast.

"Dead." A flat response. "I didn't do it, though. I couldn't. It would've been like kicking an injured pup. I was herding him back to our healer when he went into convulsions. His body snapped into the change then back out several times. When it was over, he was dead and... messed up." Her voice held traces of shock, unexpected in a woman reputed to be made of ice-fired steel. "Human, lynx, skin inside out and bones in the wrong places. Christ, I've never seen anything like that."

"The body?" Lucas looked at Hawke.

"At the den. We want Tamsyn to come out and have a look at it with Lara and the other healers."

"I'll send Nate and Tammy over as soon as we've finished talking."

"We can pick them up in the car," Hawke offered, a certain look in those pale blue eyes that were the same shade in either form.

Lucas snorted. "Would you trust your mate to one of us?"

"That'll never come up." Hawke's tone was very final— as if he knew he'd never have a mate. If that was true, no wonder the alpha was terminally pissed.

"Here."

Vaughn caught the image slide Indigo threw across and took a look. His stomach revolted. "Fuck." He handed it to Lucas. "Let's get this out—both the fact that someone's peddling this stuff to the weaker changelings and the effect it has. That should stop anyone who wants to give it a taste."

"I say we send copies of the pictures," Indigo suggested. "Once you see those, even the idea of Jax will give you hives."

Hawke watched Lucas study the slide. "We have to move soon. I don't want to chance someone else being sucked in."

Lucas nodded. Vaughn was in complete agreement. Being at the top of the food chain came with responsibilities. When under attack, it was the predators the other changelings looked up to. And in California, SnowDancer and DarkRiver were it.

"Cian can coordinate the info spread with that old wolf of a librarian in your pack." Lucas returned the slide.

"Dalton." Indigo put it back into her pocket without looking. "He's good at this sort of stuff. I'll get him to contact Cian."

They were about to break up when Lucas asked, "How're the Laurens?" He was referring to the family of Psy defectors who'd found unlikely sanctuary with the wolves. The Council believed the Laurens dead, which gave the wolves a strategic advantage. But not enough to balance out the aggravation, if Hawke's scowl was anything to go by.

"Your mate's roped Judd into helping her with Brenna and you can imagine how popular that was with Andrew and Riley. He so much as blinks wrong around their baby sister and they'll slice him up—except the crazy Psy doesn't seem to give a shit about anything, which might be the only thing keeping him alive." The alpha folded his arms. "And yeah, Walker's trying to train the kids to do something with their shields so they don't accidentally give away the game."

Which left out Sienna Lauren. The teenager was probably the cause of Hawke's scowl. The alpha confirmed Vaughn's guess a second later.

"Sienna's so damn much trouble, I'm starting to think the brat's a she-wolf in bloody disguise."

"You're too easy on her." Indigo's words didn't go with the spark of amusement in her eyes.

Hawke let out a low growl. "You think it's so funny, I'm putting you in charge of training her in self-defense. She fights like a housecat, all hiss and no bite."

Indigo paled and that was one thing Vaughn had never expected to see. "How long?"

"As long as it takes." Smile satisfied, Hawke returned his attention to Lucas and Vaughn. "We'll keep an eye out for your people. Give Sascha darling a kiss from me."

The wolf barely avoided having his throat torn out by Lucas's claws.

Vaughn shadowed Lucas back to the site of the joint Psy-changeling housing development, close to where Hawke had called the meeting. His alpha, his friend, paused at the edge and took a slow breath. "It hurts Sascha to see Nikita. It damn near tears her up."

"I know." Vaughn understood exactly what it did to a child to watch her mother walk away.

"It'll be better once there's another Psy in DarkRiver. The Laurens are different. They're locked into their own familial Net. Another mind in the Web is what she needs."

Vaughn fisted his hands. "I can't force Faith."

"What about persuasion?" Putting his own hands into his pockets, Lucas rocked back on his heels.

"I'm not in enough control." The blunt truth.

"Trust yourself. You can't hurt her."

"The cat's getting desperate." Desperate enough that Vaughn could feel claws constantly pressing against his flesh, a mere thought away. How the hell could he trust himself with Faith's delicate skin?

"Then feed it," Lucas finally said. "We aren't Psy and Faith has to accept that before she makes any choice. Show her what you are."

"I've hardly been gentle with her so far."

"But you haven't demanded what you need either. I can feel your tension and it's already affecting the younger males in the pack." Another blunt truth—as sensitive as they were to scents in either form, Vaughn's unceasing sexual need was probably rubbing the juveniles raw. "Take her or find a cat to scratch the itch."

He bristled. "Would you fuck around on Sascha?"

"Exactly." Lucas shook his head. "You can't live without her. Do you even want to try?"

Hell no! And that quickly, he knew what he had to do. "Can you deal without me for a day or two?" The cat had had enough. It was taking over.

Lucas's attention shifted to the car gliding to a quiet halt on the other side of the site. "Good hunting. I'm going to go kiss my own woman."

Vaughn melted back into the forest, his beast stirring in anticipation of the most important hunt of his life. He was through playing by Faith's rules. The jaguar was loose and it was hungry. A roar came from his throat, rough and dangerous. Faith NightStar was about to come face-to-face with a predator determined to possess her. No compromises. No mercy.

Faith completed the forecast for BlueZ Industries, Sem-tech, and Lillane Contracting, then turned off the trigger panel. "I'm going to walk the grounds."

"Understood."

Only when she was outside and hidden by several large trees did she take a deep breath and rub her hands down the front of her jeans. She'd put them on instead of her usual dress in response to an early morning vision.

A jaguar was coming for her.

The vision had been a warning: choose. But she'd already made her decision, already accepted his claim. After today she'd never again return to this house, her safe place, her familiar place. Though she'd failed in her quest to track down Marine's killer—he hadn't bitten at her open mind last night, or this morning—she had to leave the PsyNet. Vengeance would still be hers. She knew.

Returning to the house, she did three more predictions before lunch. "Are you sure you feel no stress?" Xi Yun asked after the third.

"I think I've pushed myself far enough today." She'd need her strength to handle the predator heading in her direction.

"I can request a medical team attend you."

"That's not necessary. Given the increase in my raw psychic potential, I was trying to see how far my powers had come."

"Yes, of course. You should've told me in advance. I'll forward you the details of the scans. It appears your mind is regulating your body more efficiently during the forecasts. No stress lines at all."

"Excellent." An idea came to life. "I'll probably sleep deeply after this morning's exertion, so please ensure I'm not disturbed for at least twelve hours after I retire."

"Noted."

"Thank you."

Aware she was being scrutinized for any erratic behavior as a result of nonexistent stress, she forced herself to follow her normal routines. Going into the kitchenette area, she poured and consumed a glass of the high-energy drink that carried most of the vitamins and minerals she needed, then ate two energy bars with slow deliberation. Next, she downloaded the promised medical scans onto her personal organizer and took a seat in the lounge area to go over them.

She had every intention of taking the data with her when she defected. It would likely be her last chance to access scans this detailed, and they were invaluable for an F-Psy, charting as they did every area of the brain. Including those sections most vulnerable to mental degradation. Because no matter what happened, she was an F-Psy and with that came a higher risk of insanity. It always had.

It was only after two hours that she stretched and walked into her bedroom, her eyes continuing to scan the files. Dropping the facade the second she was inside, she quickly packed her backpack with the few things she didn't want to leave behind. There wasn't much—her organizer, a holo-shot of Marine downloaded from the PsyClan's database, and one of her father. He'd consider her a traitor after tonight, but for all his coldness, he'd been the single constant in her life and she'd miss him. Finally, she threw in a change of clothes and that was it. A sad commentary on the life she'd lived to date.

Walking back out into the living area, she was surprised to hear the chime of an incoming call. "Yes?" she answered on audio.

"Your father wishes to speak to you."

"I'll turn on the screen."

"There's no need—he's at the gates."

Her hand dropped away from the screen-activation key, mouth suddenly the driest of deserts. "I'll meet him in the grounds." It hadn't been what she'd planned to say but, once again, the knowing had come to the fore.

Ending the call, she exited the house and started down the path that eventually led to the gate. Anthony only ever paid her a personal visit when he wanted to talk about confidential business and being outside was the easiest way to ensure privacy. She could think of two reasons for his surprise appearance today. It might be as simple as a request for a particularly sensitive forecast, but it could also be about a far more treacherous subject—her possible nomination to the Council.

Then there he was, striding toward her. A tall male with skin two or three shades darker than hers and black hair silvered at the temples. In his black suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie, he looked every inch the perfect Psy. What would he do if he discovered her planned defection?

Stop her. By any means necessary.

"Father."

"Walk with me, Faith." He turned off the main path to one that snaked deeper into the grounds. "I've heard some disturbing news."

A chill wind swept through her body in spite of the early afternoon sunshine. "Kaleb Krychek?"

To her relief, he nodded. "There are rumors he's decided to give the Council no alternative choice."

"Nothing we didn't expect."

"I want you to retire from the race."

"Father?" She turned to face him, pure surprise rooting her to the spot.

Anthony halted beside her. "You weren't trained in offensive maneuvers. Kaleb has had years of practice."

"I know that, but—"

"You're too valuable to chance being damaged."

So, her monetary profitability outweighed her father's ambition. "I understand. Business is business. But what if I wish to pursue the offer?"

"The PsyClan will assist you, of course. However, think carefully, Faith. As a cardinal foreseer, you already have considerable political power should you choose to wield it."

"I'm completely isolated."

"That can change if you want it to."

She spoke without thinking. "Can it?"

Anthony looked at her for several long moments. She wondered whether he suspected something. Then he said, "I've already lost one daughter. It's enough. I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe."

She wanted to read emotion, care, love, into his statement, but knew it'd be a self-deluding lie. "Did your sources give a time frame for any attack? Or the type of offensive?" Forcing herself to think past the needs of the lonely child inside of her, she started walking again.

"Within the next two days. As for type, Krychek is known for using the PsyNet. It's suspected he has an undocumented subset of powers beneath his Tk abilities that allow him to attack without detection."

"Do you think it's something similar to Nikita Duncan's talent?"

"Mental viruses?" Anthony seemed to consider that idea. "No. It's something else. The end result of his particular skills being utilized is unique and extremely disturbing."

"I thought his targets had a tendency to disappear?"

"They do. But I've discovered that it's not Krychek who does the disappearing. It's the individual family groups— they don't want to be associated with his victims."

"What results could cause such a radical reaction?" She wanted to gather as much information as she could on the man almost certain to become the newest member of the Council. Information was power and she was through with being powerless.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"Of course."

"Nikita's targets either die or become incapacitated to the extent that they can't care for themselves—similar effects to certain kinds of accidental brain damage. Unfortunate for the individual but nothing organic or genetic, nothing that reflects on the extended family group."

It was very unlike her father to dance around a subject. "Why is Krychek different?"

"His targets go clinically insane."