CHAPTER 25
“Some of my talents are rather unusual, sir.” That told him nothing. Her hidden talents could include a degree of foresight she didn’t want competitors to know about or a hundred other things.
“I always knew you were an interesting woman, but I never guessed you were so perfect.” In the dark velvet night of the PsyNet, Sascha felt shivers crawl along her nerves. Perfect . What was she perfect for? “A high compliment.” She couldn’t move. Enrique’s power was everywhere—he’d surrounded her as stealthily as a hunting leopard.
“I thought you were like me,” he said, his tone shifting to something so polite it was a mockery. “But you’re something else altogether.”
If she hadn’t intended to drop out of the Net, she would’ve panicked at the way his shields had spread to encompass her star. Because this was a trap. Nikita had taught her this variation long ago. Sometimes it paid to have a mother whose power lay in murder and poison.
Enrique believed her to be telepathing. Once he’d finished encircling her star, he’d lure her out into the PsyNet. The instant she emerged, he’d lock a shield around the partial “self” she’d send out to meet with him. For the first milliseconds after a Psy manifested on the psychic plane, he or she was vulnerable. It took that long for the mobile firewalls to rise. Almost no one had the power to spring a trap in that Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
infinitesimal amount of time.
However, Enrique was no ordinary Psy—he could possibly pull it off. If he succeeded, he’d cut off the roaming part of her psyche from the rest. A successful capture was one of the more brutal ways to paralyze the physical body of a Psy. If the paralysis was maintained too long, the underlying connection between self and mind snapped, the two parts of the psyche unable to survive the separation.
The result was death and the absorption of that roaming part of the victim’s consciousness into the vastness of the PsyNet. Some theorized that that was how the NetMind had begun—with the lost minds of Psy who’d been ambushed or otherwise lost in the dark skies of the Net.
“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”
“I think it’s time we discussed this, Sascha.” He was everywhere. Cold and focused like the finest of lasers.
“I’m in a meeting.”
“Cancel it.” The walls around her began to constrict.
“Mother has given me instructions to close this deal.” This was bad, very bad. What she couldn’t understand was why Enrique was coming after her.
There was nothing overtly “wrong” about the patterns she was leaking. The traces were both very faint and came from a deep part of the changeling consciousness that Psy couldn’t usually access, not without ripping open minds. Only a Psy who’d done that would understand what it was that he was seeing.
“I’m tired of waiting for you to make time. Unless you want to find yourself pulled up before the Council, I want to see you. Now .”
“On what basis would you call me before the Council?” She filled her mental tone with the confidence of someone who’d been born a cardinal, someone whose mother was a Councilor.
“You’re not pure, Sascha. You think like them .” It was an accusation that held supreme confidence.
“Like the animals you work so well with.”
Caught utterly off guard, she almost gave herself away. She’d never known Enrique to have any contact with changelings. How did he recognize the taint in her mental signature? “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”
“I’ve been in their minds. I know exactly what they look like.” His mental trap was almost solid. There was no way she would’ve been able to break out if she’d planned on doing so. Enrique was stronger than she’d ever guessed, possibly the strongest cardinal in the Net.
“How?” Confusion and desperation were taking their toll. Murder sprang from rage, fury, jealousy.
Enrique didn’t feel anything, so how could he be the violence that had stolen so many lives?
“The Council likes to know the enemy. We’ve been using volunteers to study their mental patterns.” He pushed at the flaw in her mind as one would poke at a wound.
It hurt. “Sir, what are you doing?”
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“I don’t like waiting, Sascha.”
But he liked talking, she thought. “I’m tying up the meeting. If I leave suddenly, it’ll negate everything we’ve achieved to date. I didn’t realize the Council was running such research.”
“Call it a private interest. Their women make the best subjects—there’s something perfect about them.” I never guessed you were so perfect.
“They’re weak,” she said, prodding him on. “They feel. It’s the Psy who are perfect.” Enrique’s energy whirled cold and menacing around her as she started to inch back toward the hidden doorway into her mind. She had to get inside before she dropped out of the PsyNet. If Enrique succeeded in infiltrating her defenses, he’d destroy Lucas along with her. No, she thought, furious. Her mate would not die.
A whisper of the forest in her mind. The panther hidden deep within her was pleased by her thoughts but its attention was fixed on Enrique, on the threat to its mate. Claws slid out and she felt her fingertips tingle.
“Psy have to suppress emotion in order to survive, but changelings thrive without breaking under the pressure. I’d say that makes them the stronger species.” He paused and she froze her creeping progress.
“Are you almost done?”
“Yes, sir.” She made her voice hold the faintest thread of fear, let him pick up the emotion.
The walls of his mind went blue like the deepest oceanic ice. It was frighteningly beautiful. “Sascha, Sascha,” he whispered. “You’re truly extraordinary.” She didn’t respond, every ounce of concentration focused on getting back into her mind. His comments had her convinced he was the killer one second and confused the next. How could he be the serial?
How? Those women had been torn part, annihilated from the mind out. Enrique was a man who didn’t feel any negative emotion. Not rage. Not anger. Not hatred.
Was he simply out for her because she was flawed? Had he driven away the real murderer, the one who’d infected the Net with traces of violence? Disappointment tightened her gut. She couldn’t fail, couldn’t let the need for revenge plunge DarkRiver and the SnowDancers into war. They were her people now.
“You’re even more perfect than the changeling women.”
“Who were these women?” she asked, nearly to the doorway. “I’d like to speak to them as well. The leopards tell me nothing.”
“I’m afraid the experiments were a little taxing. They don’t like to let Psy into their minds. I had to damage them in order to gain an in-depth understanding.” Horror stopped her in midstep. “You killed them?”
Lucas lunged at the walls of her mind, wanting to go for Enrique’s throat.
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“Lab animals often die.”
If she’d been in her physical body, she would’ve thrown up then and there. It was crystal clear that Enrique was happy to tell her everything—his only audience—because he thought he had her trapped.
He was closing around her like a giant pincer.
“There’s pressure on my mind.” She could start to feel it but it wasn’t dangerous, not yet.
“I’m at the end of my patience. Either you speak to me or I execute you. I assure you, the Council would back me fully for dealing with a defective Psy.” It was the word “defective” that got her moving again. She wasn’t defective and the changelings weren’t lab animals. They were the most beautiful, most alive, most passionate beings she’d ever met. But before she broke away, she had to make sure she had the right evil, the right killer. “Why seventy-nine?” she asked softly.
“Nineteen seventy-nine, Sascha, 1979. It’s my little way of celebrating what I see as the true birth of our race.” He paused. “How did you know about that?” The crushing walls of his mind came to a standstill.
She used that moment to push through the hidden door and lock it behind her. Something slammed into it a second later—Enrique’s mind trying to shove into hers, destroy hers. Cracks appeared in the already fragmented shields around the doorway.
“Very clever, Sascha,” he said. “How long have you been hiding out here?” She didn’t answer, trying to patch up the door enough that she could run into the second layer of her shields. Even so close to him, her senses picked up nothing of the deep-seated rage she’d expected from the murderer. Enrique didn’t feel. And yet he killed.
You’re a race of psychopaths!
Dorian’s accusation ripped open from some forgotten pocket of memory.
No conscience, no heart, no feelings! How else do you define psychopath?
The true horror of Silence hit her so hard, her inner walls shook. But there was no time to think. Enrique was close to breaking through. Slamming a temporary block on the door to her mind, she ran through the second layer of shields just as the block on the outer shields shattered.
He was inside her mind.
His power crashed into her, shocking pain into every synapse. Shaking, she threw everything she had into her inner shields and went even deeper, until she was behind a third layer. Enrique couldn’t violate these so easily. They were the natural walls of the mind—the walls he’d ripped open in the changeling women he’d taken. She had no doubt he’d tear her apart, too, if she gave him the time.
Fed by adrenaline, she found her mental link to the PsyNet. Even Enrique’s trap couldn’t cut that link. It went too deep, was too instinctive. She touched the lifeline for the last time and whispered, “Good-bye.” Enrique hit her with another Shockwave of pain and at that exact instant, she sliced the link into two.
Everything stopped for her. Her mind was silent. Alone. There were no stars in the darkness, nothing but Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
emptiness.
Death opened its arms.
She screamed awake in Lucas’s hold. Excruciating agony cramped every nerve in her body and she could feel her mind desperately trying to re-create the link. Forcing herself to think despite the red-hot torture sparking through her, she cauterized the wound and shut down the instinctive reaching. It hurt.
Like being shot point-blank in the face.
The agony was everywhere. Her skin felt as if it was being flayed off her. Her mind screamed and screamed, gasping for the feedback it needed to survive. She clawed at Lucas’s chest, unable to breathe.
Claustrophobia closed around her, the darkness pressing down deeper than Enrique’s attempts at crushing her mind. She was going to choke to death. Alone. She was so alone.
Alone. Dark. Black. Cold.
Lucas was terrified by what he saw in Sascha’s eyes. All the stars had disappeared in a blink when she’d opened her eyes and now there was such deep ebony in the depths, he thought he could see eternity.
“Sascha!” He shook her, ignoring the others who’d run into the room at the sound of her screams. It didn’t occur to him that he knew the killer’s name, that he could start the hunt for vengeance. Only she mattered. “Sascha!” She didn’t respond. It was as if she couldn’t see him.
He wasn’t Psy. He couldn’t get into her mind. But he could anchor her another way. Wrapping one hand around her nape, he pulled her close and kissed her. Hard. Without mercy. It was a brutal, savage, possessive kiss and it held every emotion he felt for her. He poured it all into her mouth, calling her back with touch. Her claw-like grip eased but she clung to him, wrapping her arms and legs around him as if she wanted to crawl into his soul.
Alone. So alone.
It was as if he heard the words in his mind. Had she linked? Had she followed through on her promise?
Was that why he could feel the load of darkness pressing down on her? He pushed it back with heat and fire and emotion, squeezing her body close.
When he broke the kiss so she could breathe, she whimpered, “No, no, no, no.” He pressed his lips against hers once again. The darkness was no longer so heavy but it wasn’t disappearing. Why not? She was linked to him. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore. Never again.
The next time the kiss broke, she took a deep breath and said, “It’s Councilor Santano Enrique. He feels nothing. Doesn’t know about you. Thinks I’m just flawed.” It came out in a staccato rush—as if she were spitting things out before they were forever lost.
Lucas looked at Hawke, who’d been first into the room. “Go. Dorian. Vaughn.” His eyes locked with the jaguar’s. Vaughn gave a slight nod. He understood his job—to protect Dorian from his own rage.
Lucas couldn’t go with them, not with his mate growing alarmingly weak in his arms.
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Hawke’s eyes slid to Sascha, who was starting to draw shallow breaths that sounded like fatal whispers.
“What’s wrong with her?” He held his arm out to stop Brenna’s two brothers from leaving the room in pursuit of their quarry. It was an indication of his power that they paused though their eyes had gone wolf.
“She’s dying.” Tamsyn pushed between the males to touch Sascha’s cheek.
Sascha jerked. “Enrique lives in… uh…” Her teeth began to chatter.
“We have the address.” Hawke’s face was a study in the most chilling fury. “I’ll take care of him.” The words were directed at Lucas.
It was time to trust the wolf.
“Complete the plan.” They’d hatched it between them early this morning. It was designed to keep Sascha safe… forever. “Go.” He was entrusting Hawke with his mate’s life. The plan had called for Lucas to ensure this part of their strategy was implemented, but not for anything would he leave Sascha.
“Your Psy belongs to us, too. We won’t fail her.” Hawke moved and the four wolves in the room, along with Dorian and Vaughn, streamed out with him.
Tamsyn dropped a throw around Sascha’s shaking body. “I don’t understand. Your mind should be feeding hers.”
Lucas suddenly understood. “You haven’t tried to initiate a link, have you?” Terror and fury combined to chill his heart.
Sascha smiled and shook her head. “You have to live.”
“You promised!” he yelled, driven beyond patience, beyond anything but demand and need. His mate couldn’t die.
Those beautiful eyes were fading. “I’m sorry.”
“No! No!” He cradled her in his arms, his voice shaking. “Link, damn you! Link!” Her hand rose to lie against his heartbeat. “Love you.” A single tear fell from eyes gone charcoal gray.
“Tammy! Do something!”
The healer was trembling, her eyes wet. “I can’t, Lucas. She has to…”
“Do it, Sascha!” he ordered, crushing her to him. “Don’t you leave me.” She gasped and the fingers on his chest curled. But she didn’t reach out to his mind, didn’t take the step that would complete the mating dance.
“If you don’t, I’ll start taking out the Councilors,” he threatened. “They’ll hunt me down and kill me anyway.”
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But his mate was beyond hearing. Her eyes drifted shut and her face smoothed out as her shivers faded.
“No!” His scream was of purest rage. “I won’t let you die! You’re mine and damn if I’m ever going to let you go. You’re mine. Mine .” The panther clawed to the surface and let out a roar that was nothing human.
That was when he felt it. The bond between them snapping taut. The panther recognized the bond, though it had never before felt it. It calmed him enough to let Lucas think, holding fast even as Sascha’s heartbeat stuttered. Lucas closed his eyes and fed her. He didn’t know what he was doing, just knew that as long as the bond stayed strong, Sascha would live.
A minute later, her eyes fluttered open again. The deathly gray was being replaced by dark ebony.
“Lucas? What’s happening?”
“You’re going to live.” It was nonnegotiable.
He felt her search for and find the link. Felt her try to cut it—his heart stopped—but it wasn’t something she could influence. This link wasn’t Psy. It was changeling and it was unbreakable. The cat began to smile—her safety was no longer out of his grasp.
“You can’t,” she whispered. “Stop doing what you’re doing. You’re giving me your lifeforce. It’s worse than if I simply accepted the bond and let it keep me alive.”
“Then accept, because I’m not going to stop.” He poured even more of himself into her.
Futility darkened her expression. “Damn you for being so stubborn!”
“Accept.”
Her shoulders fell. She shot back along that bond, dropping the barriers she’d erected in an effort to prevent their mating. Suddenly, she was a rainbow inside him, a sparkling fountain of such beauty that he felt blessed to have been allowed to see her. For one instant, their minds were one and he saw how desperately, how wildly, how unreasonably she loved him—enough to break a promise, to choose death so he could live.
She saw how much her panther adored her, how his heart beat for her alone, how life would turn into death after she was gone. The beast was angry at her for attempting to deny him his mate, and the man was beyond angry, but beneath the anger was hunger, need, love . Such intense, furious love that it had no beginning and no end.
She pulled back with a gasp, allowing their two minds to separate, allowing them to think private thoughts once more. Somehow, Lucas knew that if he should ever ask, she’d open to him again. She was his and he was hers. They had under-the-skin privileges.
Those dark eyes looked up at him. Tears streamed down her face. “I’ve killed you. I’ve killed you. I’ve killed you!”
Sascha knew Lucas was enraged with her but she was too mad to care. How could he have forced her into this? It didn’t matter that the mating bond wasn’t controllable. As far as she was concerned, if he’d
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accepted her choice, if he’d let her go, it wouldn’t have come into being. Even now, she was sucking his life away so she could be healthy and strong. Her life at the price of his. Damn him!
Ten hours had passed since the plan had been successfully executed. Depleted by his attempt at trapping her, Enrique’s powers hadn’t been strong enough to withstand the changelings. Improbably, he’d kept Brenna caged in his large soundproofed apartment, safe because no Psy could feel her pain. She was alive. The SnowDancers and DarkRiver’s soldiers had also ensured Sascha’s safety. No one was going to be hunting her or the changelings.
“We took what was due us,” Hawke told her in the living room of the safe house. His gaze included Dorian. “And we left them a message. Should anything ever happen to you, we’ll go after each and every one of the Council, no matter who it was that set the dogs on you. What we did to Enrique will seem like a picnic.”
“How can you be sure that’ll keep them contained?” Sascha knew the Council too well.
“The message we left,” Hawke said, his eyes pure blue flame. “It was stapled to Enrique’s tongue.
Tatiana Rika-Smythe got the tongue in a velvet jewelry box inside her bedroom. Nikita got the remainder of the head.”
She couldn’t breathe. She tried to speak but nothing came out. Hawke continued his bloody narrative.
“The Councilors outside the immediate area have been promised personal delivery of a piece of Enrique—I’m thinking we’ll leave the gifts on their pillows.” Sascha felt her gorge rise. She gripped Lucas’s hand. “How could you… ?”
“We did nothing to him he didn’t do to our women,” Dorian gritted out. “We did less—he raped their minds!”
She looked at him, felt his anguish—anguish that vengeance hadn’t calmed—and knew he needed her to accept what he’d done. She was his alpha’s mate and for the first time, she saw what that entailed. Not quite sure what she was doing, she crossed the room and took his face in her hands. He stilled. When she brushed her lips over his, a sigh seemed to ripple through his body.
CHAPTER 26
Lucas didn’t growl, didn’t act territorial. She was his and this was part of what the pack would need from her. Touch. Love. Affection. Sometimes the best way to give affection to the strongest males was with a simple kiss. They’d accept that when they might reject words of care. How she knew that was a mystery to her.
As she drew back, she felt a stab in her heart. Dorian was looking at her as if she belonged, as if he was sure of her, as if she was Pack. She was. For the next couple of months. Until she dragged Lucas down with her into unconsciousness and death.
“That’s not everything,” Hawke said, when she turned to him again. “We made sure they knew we’re aware of violence in the Psy populace. Enrique confessed quite prettily on camera. Liked to talk.” Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
“They can’t have that getting out.” Sascha watched her mate walk toward her and felt something low and hot in her tighten. Anger was no barrier against the passion he could arouse in her. “Silence would be deemed a failure.”
“Maybe that would be a good thing,” Tamsyn said.
“Only if there’s something to take its place. To spread this information without having any way to manage the fallout would be irresponsible.” She shook her head.
“This big a Shockwave could cripple thousands of innocents. When something happens on the psychic plane, it has physical effects.” She knew that too well. Nothing had prepared her for the agony she’d suffered.
Lucas walked around to her back and hugged her against him. “I wonder how they’ll explain your presence out of the Net?”
“We suggested they tell people a difference in her mind made her susceptible to mating with a changeling and that was how she dropped out.” Hawke shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to us so long as they don’t touch her.”
“It’s going to shake things up regardless of how they do it.” Lucas’s arms were solid muscle around her.
Nothing had ever felt as good.
Sascha knew the leopards and wolves had achieved the impossible—they’d leashed the Council. It was a bittersweet victory.
The wolves asked Sascha to come to their hideout three days later, bare minutes after she’d finished speaking with Nikita. Her mother had informed her that she’d been officially cut off from the Duncan family group.
“You’re no longer Psy. Your mind is too flawed. It couldn’t even hold on to the link with the PsyNet.
Obviously, you were never meant to be a part of it.” So that was how the Council was spinning it. “No, Mother. I’m perfect.” Nikita didn’t blink. “The deal with DarkRiver—we’d like it to continue. Lucas Hunter’s odd…
connection with you is why we allowed you to leave the Net. One flawed Psy wasn’t worth destroying business ties with the cats and the wolves.”
Sascha got the message. Business was something every Psy could understand. “We have no problem honoring the deal.” Then she ended the call and let herself cry.
Lucas held her and when the wolves sent for her, he didn’t try to stop her from doing what she had to do.
“Brenna’s dying,” Hawke said the second they entered the tunnels.
Sascha thought of the incredibly powerful will she’d touched once in the darkness. “No.” She refused to Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
let that light go out. “Take me to her.”
Brenna lay in a soft bed covered by a cerulean blue blanket. Tamsyn and another woman, who Sascha assumed was the SnowDancer healer, stood talking quietly in one corner of the bedroom. Tammy’s eyes pleaded with her to do something.
Making a silent promise, Sascha looked back at Brenna. Her hair had been cut brutally short, as if someone had tried to rob her of her femininity. Bruises covered her face and ringed her neck, but Sascha didn’t see all that. What she saw was the flickering candle of Brenna’s mind.
She cupped her healer’s hands around that flame. Don’t give up now, Brenna .
Silence.
You know me. I won’t hurt you.
You lied. A whispery accusation.
When?
You said Pack would come for me. Pain and betrayal. But I’m alone .
Sascha blinked and looked to Hawke. “Was she conscious when you found her?”
“No. The human medics said they couldn’t do anything for her so we brought her home.” Human medics because none of them trusted the M-Psy anymore.
“She doesn’t know she’s home. Talk to her. Touch her.” The wolf didn’t argue. Walking to the bed, he began to caress Brenna’s bruised face with disarming gentleness, reminding her of nothing so much as a father with his child. Brenna’s two brothers moved to join him, one taking her hand, the other kneeling down beside the bed to stroke her spiky hair. There was something heartbreaking about seeing three predatory males, used to protecting their women, trying to be strong while their souls were being torn to pieces.
Inside the darkness of Brenna’s mind, Sascha whispered, You’re home, Brenna .
It’s a lie.
Can’t you feel them? Hawke, Riley, Andrew… they’re here and they’re waiting for you.
A silence so full of terrified hope that Sascha shivered.
They found you. They avenged your honor. She was mated to an alpha Hunter. She knew the value of vengeance, the importance of honor, the power of loyalty. Don’t make them wait any longer — I think their hearts are going to break.
I can’t bear any more. Tears sounded in every word. What if this is a dream, you’re a dream, and I wake to him ? I might never escape again and I’m so tired .
Sascha thought about who Brenna had been before Enrique, about who she still was deep in her soul.
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She thought of Rina and Mercy, of their will, their pride. You have so much heart it humbles me and you fought a brave fight. If you want to slip into the last sleep, no one will judge you. You’ve earned your peace .
I don’t want to die.
Then choose to live. Sascha wasn’t playing games. She’d told the absolute truth—Brenna had earned her right to die. We miss you .
Who are you?
I’m Sascha, mate to Lucas Hunter and a healer of DarkRiver. She was no longer a woman who belonged nowhere, no longer part of a race that would’ve punished her for her gift. Pride shimmered in her tone. Accepted, more than accepted by her new family, she’d never mourn who she’d once been.
Sascha, I’m broken.
So was I, Brenna. She reached out and hugged the girl’s floundering spirit. What is broken can be healed .
Help me. The voice was resolute, that flickering flame settling to a slender column of purity. I won’t give in to death. Help me wake up to reality… whatever that might be .
Pride for the young woman’s courage mixed with anguish for the pain she’d suffered, but Sascha let her feel only the pride. I’m here . Slowly, she guided Brenna’s broken mind through the shreds of her spirit.
Can this ever be fixed? Brenna asked, aware of the extent of the damage that had been done to her.
I was born to heal you. And if it took every second of the remainder of her time on this Earth, she would heal Brenna.
Take me home, Sascha.
Sascha opened her eyes perhaps an hour after she’d spoken to Hawke, and found herself sitting on the bed beside Brenna, her hand in the young woman’s. She had no recollection of moving there, or of clasping her other hand with Lucas’s. Brenna’s brothers and Hawke surrounded the bed, touching their packmate wherever they could.
“Wake up, Brenna.” Sascha brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead. As she sat back up, the girl’s eyelids fluttered and then opened. Wary eyes met Sascha’s. With a smile, Sascha said, “Hey, sleepyhead.” Brenna blinked. One of her brothers choked back a cry and pushed in front of Sascha to cup his sister’s face with hands that were consciously gentle. “Bren? God damn it, Bren, you had us worried to death.” Over the top of Riley’s head, Sascha met brown eyes filled with so much joy it was almost blinding. She got off the bed and let Lucas hold her. Now it was time for the wolves to heal Brenna, to cover her in their love and affection. Sascha would return to help her repair her mind and soul, but for today, this was enough.
“Let’s go home,” she said to Lucas.
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He ran his knuckles down her cheek and dropped a kiss on her nose. “Still mad, Sascha darling?”
“Yes.” Her hug was fierce. She lived with guilt every day of her life for condemning him to death.
A week later, she picked up Julian and rubbed his belly. The little cub growled and asked for more.
Laughing, she gave him what he wanted. Tammy was out of town for the day and when she’d asked Sascha to look after the cubs, she’d jumped at the chance. They’d turned up at Lucas’s lair as two adorable boys in blue jeans and T-shirts, but minutes later, she’d found two cubs chewing on her boots.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself,” Lucas said from the doorway, a strained smile on his face.
She knew the reason for the strain. It was her. She was so angry with him for what he’d done and he felt it. How could he not? He was bonded with her. She watched him pick up Roman and let the cub claw playfully at his T-shirted chest, and knew she had to give up the anger.
How long did they have left? One month, maybe two. Her man was extraordinary and he knew how to love, how to feel, how to fight for his mate with every emotion he had in him. If he hadn’t fought so hard, if he hadn’t forced her hand, he wouldn’t be the man she adored so hopelessly.
“I love you, Lucas,” she whispered.
His eyes turned cat-green. “No more claws, kitten?” She shook her head. “I’m so glad for you.”
He looked like he wanted to walk over and kiss her till she begged for mercy. Except they had two squirming cubs in their arms. Looking at each other, they started to laugh. Started to live.
That night, she asked him to change for her. Without a word, he stripped off his clothing and the world turned into a multicolored shimmer. It was so beautiful, she felt her heart stop. She blinked and when she opened her eyes, a huge hunting cat lay on the bed beside her.
Despite the fact that she knew this was Lucas, she was a little scared. But not enough to miss the chance. Holding her breath, she ran her fingers through his silky black fur. There was nothing she could compare the sensation to. Bonded as they were, she’d felt him run, felt his joy in the wind and the forests, felt the panther just… be. But never had she touched the animal in him so intimately.
When he made a sound that was incredibly close to a purr, she started to laugh. “You like being petted whether you’re in human or panther form.”
The panther snapped his teeth at her and, under her hands, light shimmered. Heart in her throat, she remained perfectly immobile until Lucas lay naked beside her, the exotic tattoo on his upper arm a reminder of the wildness within. “Wow.”
“Of course. I’m the most beautiful creature you’ve ever seen.” A smug smile.
Laughing, she let him tease her, let him teach her how to grasp the moment, how to love without fear or guilt, how to just be .
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“Something’s wrong,” she said to him a month later.
He put his hand on her breast under the sheet and threw one leg over hers. “What?” His voice was a purr in the darkness.
Already, her body was heating up for his. “I’ve never felt better. You’re the same. Every single physical symptom I had is gone and I don’t think they’re going to reappear.”
“That’s a problem?” His amusement was obvious. On her breast, his hand moved in easy circles.
She let her senses surrender, melting for him. “I’m serious. You shouldn’t be able to keep my mind…
fed, and function so well yourself.”
He stopped caressing her and slid his hand down to her ribs. She knew he’d heard the seriousness in her tone. “Do you think it’s the calm before the storm?”
“No. It should be a gradual drain.” She stared up at the ceiling, where leaves crawled across the space.
Lucas had no problem with the forest taking over his home and she was starting to accept it, too, though she did get the occasional urge to make everything spotless. “Will you mind if I go searching in our minds?” It was the first time she’d asked for that since that initial moment of utter unity.
“You know everything there is to know, kitten.”
“I’m not sorry Tammy told me,” she said, mutinous. They’d finally talked about his family several days ago and she’d held her Hunter as he remembered. Those wounds were scars but not the kind that twisted—his scars had a place on his soul. They were a marker of those he’d lost.
He growled against her neck and rubbed the stubble of his beard on her sensitive skin. “I didn’t think so.
The two of you are too damn close.” There was no anger in him. “Search.” Taking a deep bream, she closed her eyes and unconsciously shifted her body until she was almost covered by him. Body and mind in tune. When she opened her mind’s eye on the psychic level and peeked out, she didn’t see the starry plane she was used to. Nor did she see empty darkness. Instead, she saw a web. At the center of the web was Lucas’s light, so bright it was like a cardinal’s but somehow more pure, more intense, hot instead of cold.
His light was being showered upon by rainbow-colored sparks and she knew that was her. She wanted to smile. She was doing what she’d always said she would if set free—infecting everyone around her.
However, she now understood that the rainbow sparks healed. It was their lack in the PsyNet that had turned the Psy so cruel, so unable to see right from wrong.
Every part of the web glimmered with color.
Web.
“How can there be a web with only two?” she said out loud.
Lucas nuzzled her neck and ran his hands down her body, keeping her anchored with nothing but touch.
She stroked her own hands down the heated silk of his back as she followed the strands of the web.
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At the end of one filament blazed a light somehow feminine in feel, and yet, it also held hints of martial strength. At the end of another two were solid masculine stars, brilliant enough to burn.
One of those masculine stars had another strand of the web tracing out from it. At the end of that was a gentle, beautiful flame that spoke of purest love. Amazingly, that light had two small glowing beacons tracing from it. The strands from those two linked back to the male star.
Another strand led from Lucas to a light that was bruised and battered, but slowly being healed by the rainbows that crept in when the mind wasn’t looking. And the last light, it was somehow unique, golden and wild, pure like Lucas’s but tantalizingly different.
“You’re connected to five others,” she whispered.
“Of course,” he muttered against her neck. “The sentinels take a blood oath.” Shock had her eyes snapping wide open. Mercy, a soldier female. Clay and Nate, pure strength. It was Nate’s line that was joined by another’s—Tamsyn, his mate. Dorian, broken but healing. Vaughn, jaguar not leopard. She searched more carefully for her own cardinal star.
There she was, enclosed within Lucas’s light, the rainbow showers bursting through him to the outside. It didn’t hurt him. In fact, it seemed to make him stronger, as if she were repairing the tiniest of fissures. It didn’t mean he didn’t feel negative emotions, only that he was able to see past them.
“Lucas,” she said, pushing at his shoulders until he got up and looked down at her with those hunting-cat eyes.
“What’s wrong?” His body tensed.
“Nothing,” she whispered, starting to shudder. “Nothing. Everything’s perfect!”
“Kitten, you’re scaring me.” He leaned down to kiss her. “What did you see?”
“You’re part of a network, Lucas. The feedback you give me is bolstered by the sentinels and Tamsyn.” He thought for a moment. “The blood oath links the sentinels to me on a psychic level?”
“Somehow,” Sascha said. “I don’t understand how—nobody has ever seen this before—the Psy don’t know changelings can link this way.” Part of her wanted to share the exciting discovery, but a bigger part of her wanted to keep it secret, a weapon unlike any other. “You didn’t know?”
“No. I knew the sentinels gave me their loyalty but we’re not Psy.”
“You have Psy potential. Everyone does. Don’t forget—we all started with the same basic material.” She frowned. “Sienna Lauren was right.”
“Why is Tamsyn in the net?” Lucas asked, and then answered his own question. “She’s linked to Nate through the mating bond. The cubs?”
“They’re there, too.”
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“Why aren’t parents and siblings?”
“I’m guessing but I’d say that parents aren’t because those are bonds we break as we grow older. We love but we’re no longer as intertwined. The cubs will likely drop out as they age.” She frowned. “Maybe sibling bonds aren’t strong enough? From what I see, it’s only mating bonds and the blood oath that work.”
“I can understand that. Mating is psychic on some level. The blood oath—well, I guess there’s a reason it’s been passed down through the centuries.”
She looked again at the web and her hands clenched on Lucas’s biceps. “The Laurens were wrong on one point.”
“What?”
“This is amazing! Though I’m the solitary Psy, there is a multiplication effect. Our web is bursting with energy.” She couldn’t work out how but now she had a lifetime to figure it out.
They were both quiet for a long while.
“Sascha, what does this mean?”
“We’re safe,” she whispered, barely believing it. “Seven adult minds are feeding the web… giving me what I need. It’s more than enough.”
Lucas clasped her to his chest, rolling over on his back. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She kissed his chest, his neck, his chin. “Yes! Thank you for being so damn stubborn.” He didn’t return the caresses, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe. “You almost killed yourself for no reason.”
“No, Lucas.” She squeezed him back. “I lived because of you. That’s how I’ll always remember it.”
“It’s going to take me a long time to forgive you.” Sascha wanted to cry in joy. “We’ve got forever.” EPILOGUE
They held a meeting of the sentinels and Tamsyn later that week. The leopards were sprawled around the living room of their lair, some seated, some standing.
“So you can come into our minds?” Mercy asked.
“Only if you let me. I’d never walk in uninvited—I can’t.” Sascha knew she was talking to the most independent members of DarkRiver. They would hate to be vulnerable on any level.
“But I know you’re doing something to me,” Dorian said quietly. “I wondered what it was. It feels like before… when I wanted to go for your throat.”
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“I’m sorry, Dorian. That’s not something I can help.” Amazingly, the sentinel gave her a slow smile. “I can handle being kissed by you.” She wanted to blush. “It’s not like that.”
“A hug, then.” He shrugged. “It feels good.”
The others frowned. Clay said, “I don’t feel any different.” Sascha wondered how to say this but Dorian beat her to it. “Because you don’t need patching up, Clay.
Right, Sascha?”
She sighed. “I think you’re a menace but yes, Dorian’s a little bit more battered than the rest of you.
Once he’s up and running, my empathic gifts won’t really affect him, like they don’t really do anything to you.” The sparks healed, but on the most subconscious of levels. Dorian was only feeling them because he was so hurt.
Lucas squeezed her shoulders as she stood in front of him by the short hallway that led to the kitchen area. “We’re giving you a choice. Sascha says she can cut some of you free from the web without doing damage.”
“Tell me, Sascha,” Tamsyn said, “is it easy to slip in and out of our minds?”
“No. Every mind has a natural shield. On the PsyNet, the only open minds belonged to the exhibitionists.
All of you are shut up tight. To go in without your consent, I’d have to rip you apart.”
“And kill us.” Vaughn’s eyes were almost glowing.
“Yes.” She wouldn’t lie to them, wouldn’t tell them they weren’t vulnerable to her. “Remember, I’m an empath. Causing you pain would double back on me.”
“When I took the blood oath,” Vaughn said, “I vowed to lay my life down for Lucas. As his mate, you have that same promise.”
She’d expected the loner, the jaguar, to balk. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, Sascha darling.” He prowled over to stand in front of her, tall and beautiful and dangerous. She gasped as he brushed his lips over hers. “My life is yours.” Then he was gone, a golden blur as he leaped off the porch.
Shaken by the commitment, Sascha leaned backward into Lucas. Her eyes followed Dorian as he stood and walked over.
“I’ve been yours since the day you first took my pain.” Dorian picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips, before leaving the same way as Vaughn.
Mercy uncurled from her cushion and came to stand in front of Sascha. Her stunning face was serious but there was a smile in her eyes. “Think you could find out some male secrets for me?”
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Sascha smiled. “The only male I know that intimately is this one.” She turned to steal a kiss from Lucas.
“And his secrets are mine.”
Laughing, Mercy hugged her. “I’m a sentinel. I vowed to stick by Lucas to death. If he trusts you, so do I. I’ll see you later—I’m going to catch up with Dorian.” Clay, the most distant sentinel, the one who never touched her, was the one Sascha had feared most would choose to be cut from the web. She didn’t know what effect it would have on him, and had discussed it with Lucas. They’d decided to wait for the decisions before borrowing trouble.
Now the dark-skinned man came to stand in front of her. “My mind is not someplace you want to be,” he said quietly.
She felt his coolness, felt his control, wondered what lay behind it. “I’ll only come in if I’m invited.” He touched her cheek and she knew he’d accepted. Moments later, he was gone. Nate and Tamsyn were the only ones left. The healer was grinning. “You know I’ll never say no, and Nate’s so dedicated, I think he loves our alpha more than me.”
“I resent that,” Nate grumbled. “I might love football more than you, but definitely not Lucas’s ugly mug.”
Sascha laughed at their joking, fully aware they were crazy for each other. The web spoke for itself. It was bursting with light, with rainbows, with love. “The Web of Stars,” she whispered.
“Is that what it looks like?” Lucas’s voice was a rough purr in her ear.
“Yes.” The starry plane of the PsyNet was barren compared to the Web of Stars, a cacophony of color and emotion, a web created not by need alone but by choice. Choices of loyalty, choices of love, choices of emotion. “I’ve got so much to learn.” Her powers were growing, changing, becoming .
“We have a lifetime.”
Turning, she wrapped her arms around him and threw back her head as he picked her up to spin her around. Her laughter sparkled along the Web of Stars, flickering joy that affected every mind within it. It was small and barely aware, but at that moment, the Web was far, far stronger than the PsyNet could ever hope to be.
Turn the page
for a preview of the next
paranormal romance from Nalini Singh
Visions of Heat
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Coming Spring 2007 from Berkley Sensation!
Faith NightStar of the PsyClan NightStar was aware she was considered the most powerful F-Psy of her generation. At only twenty-four years of age, she’d already made more money than most Psy did in their entire lifetimes. But then again, she’d been working since she was three years old, since she’d found her voice. It had taken her longer than most children, but that was to be expected—she was a cardinal F-Psy of extraordinary ability.
It wouldn’t have surprised anyone if she’d never spoken.
That was why the F-Psy belonged to PsyClans, which took care of everything the foreseers couldn’t, from investing their millions to checking their medical status and ensuring they didn’t starve. The F-Psy weren’t very good at practical things like that. They forgot. Even after more than a century of forecasting business trends rather than murders and accidents, disasters and wars, they forgot.
Faith had been forgetting a lot of things lately. For example, she’d forgotten to eat three days in a row.
That was when NightStar employees had intervened, alerted by the sophisticated Tec 3 computer which ran the house. Three days was the allowable window—sometimes, F-Psy went into trances. If that had been the case, they would’ve put her on a drip and left her to it. “Thank you,” she said, directing her words to the head M-Psy. “I’ll be fine now.”
Xi Yun nodded. “Finish the entire meal. It contains the exact number of calories you need.”
“Of course.” She watched him leave, preceded by his staff. In his hand was a small medical kit that she knew contained both chemicals designed to shock her awake out of a catatonic trance or knock her down from a manic state. Neither had been required today. She’d simply forgotten to eat.
After consuming all the nutritional bars and energy drinks he’d left behind, she sat back down in the large reclining chair where she usually spent the majority of her time. Designed to double as a bed, it was uplinked to the Tec 3 and fed it a constant stream of data about her vital functions. An M-Psy stood on alert should she need medical attention any time of day or night. That wasn’t normal procedure even for the F designation, but Faith was no ordinary F-Psy.
She was the best.
Every prediction Faith ever made, if not purposefully circumvented, came true. That was why she was worth untold millions. Possibly even billions. NightStar considered her their most prized asset. Like any asset, she was kept in the best condition for optimum functionality. And like any asset, should she prove defective, she’d be overhauled and used for parts.
Faith’s eyes blinked open at that furtive thought. She stared up at the pale green of the ceiling and fought to bring her heart-rate down. If she didn’t, the M-Psy might decide to pay her a return visit and she didn’t want anyone to see her right now. She wasn’t sure what her eyes would reveal. Sometimes, even the night-sky eyes of a cardinal Psy told secrets that were better kept within.
“Parts,” she whispered out loud. Her statement was being recorded of course. The F-Psy occasionally made predictions during trance states. No one wanted to miss a word. Perhaps that was why those of her designation preferred to keep their silence when they could.
Used for parts.
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It seemed an illogical statement but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that once again, her abilities had told her of a future she could never have imagined. Most defective Psy were rehabilitated, their minds swept clean by a psychic brainwipe that left them functioning on the level of menial laborers, but not the F-Psy. They were too rare, too valuable, too unique.
If she went insane beyond acceptable levels, the levels where she could still make predictions, the M-Psy would see to it that she met with an accident that left her brain unharmed. And then they’d use that flawed brain for scientific experimentation, subject it to analysis. Everyone wanted to know what made the F-Psy tick. Of all the Psy designations, they were the least explored, the most shadowed—it was difficult to find experimental subjects when their occurrence in the population was barely above 1
percent.
Faith dug her hands into the thick red fabric of the chair, hyperaware of her breath beginning to grow jagged. The reaction hadn’t yet proceeded to a point where M-Psy intervention would be deemed necessary, as F-Psy displayed some unusual behavior during visions, but she couldn’t chance her overload turning into a mental cascade.
Even as she attempted to temper her physical body, her mind flashed with images of her brain on a set of scientific scales while cold Psy eyes examined it from every angle. She knew the images were nonsensical. Nothing like that would ever happen in a lab. Her consciousness was simply trying to make sense of something that made no sense. Just like the dreams that had been plaguing her sleep for the past two weeks.
At first, it had been nothing more man a vague foreshadowing, a darkness that pushed at her mind.
She’d thought it might herald an oncoming vision—a market crash or a sudden business failure, but day after day, that darkness had grown to crushing proportions without showing her anything concrete. And she’d felt . Though she’d never before felt anything, in those dreams she’d been drenched in fear, suffocated by the weight of terror.
It was as well that she’d long ago demanded her bedroom be free of any and all monitoring devices.
Something in her had known what was coming. Something in her always knew. But this time, she hadn’t been able to make sense of the raw ugliness of a rage which had almost cut off her breath. The first dreams had felt like someone was choking her, choking her until terror was all she was.
Last night had been different. Last night, she hadn’t woken as the hands closed about her throat. No matter how hard she’d tried, she hadn’t been able to break free of the horror, hadn’t been able to anchor herself in reality.
Last night, she had died.
Vaughn D’Angelo jumped down from the branch he’d been padding along and landed gracefully on the forest floor. In the silvery light that had turned darkness into twilight, his orange-black coat should’ve shone like a spotlight, but he was invisible, a jaguar who knew how to use the shadows of the night to hide and conceal. No one ever saw Vaughn when he didn’t want to be seen.
Above him, the moon hung like a bright disk in the sky, visible even through the thick canopy. For long moments, he stood and watched it through the dark filigree of reaching branches. Both man and beast were drawn to the glimmering beauty, though neither could’ve said why. It didn’t matter. Tonight the Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
jaguar was in charge, and it simply accepted what the man would have been tempted to think about.
A whisper of scent in the breeze had him lifting his nose into the air. Pack . A second later, he identified the scent as that of Clay, one of the other sentinels. Then it was gone, as if the leopard male had realized Vaughn had already claimed this range. Opening his mouth, Vaughn let out a soft growl and stretched his powerful feline body. His lethally sharp canines gleamed in the moonlight, but tonight he wasn’t out to hunt and capture prey, to deliver merciful death with a single crushing bite.
Tonight, he wanted to run.
His loping gait could cover vast distances and usually, he preferred to run deep into the forests that sprawled over most of California. But today he found himself heading toward the populated lake city of Tahoe. It wasn’t hard to walk among the humans and Psy even in his cat form. He wasn’t a sentinel for show—he could infiltrate even the most well-guarded citadels without giving himself away.
However, this time he didn’t actually enter the city proper, drawn to something unexpected on the fringe.
Set back only a few meters from the dark green spread of the forest, the small compound was protected by electrified fences and motion-sensor cameras among other things. The house within was hidden behind several layers of vegetation and possibly another fence but he knew it lay inside. What surprised him was that he smelled the metallic stink of the Psy around the entire compound.
Interesting.
The Psy preferred to live surrounded by skyscrapers and cities. Yet deep within that compound was a Psy, and whoever that person was, they were being protected by others of their kind. Rarely did a non-Council Psy qualify for such a privilege. Curiosity aroused, he prowled around the entire perimeter, out of range of the monitoring devices. It took him less than ten minutes to discover a way in—the Psy race’s sense of arrogance had led them, once again, to disregard the animals with whom they shared the Earth.
Or perhaps, the man thought within the beast, the Psy just didn’t understand the capabilities of the other races. To them, the changelings and humans were nothing because they couldn’t do the things the Psy could with their minds. They’d forgotten that it was the mind which moved the body, and animals were very, very good at using their bodies.
Climbing onto a tree branch that would lead him over the first fence and into the compound, the cat’s heart beat in anticipation. But even the jaguar knew he couldn’t do this. He had no reason to go in there and put himself in danger. Danger didn’t bother either man or beast, but the cat’s curiosity was held back by a deeper emotion—loyalty.
Vaughn was a DarkRiver sentinel and that duty overcame every other emotion, every other need. Later tonight, he was supposed to be guarding Sascha Duncan, his alpha’s mate, while Lucas attended a meeting at the SnowDancer den. Vaughn knew Sascha had agreed to stay behind reluctantly and only because she’d known Lucas could travel faster without her. And Lucas had only gone because he’d trusted his sentinels to keep her safe.
With a last lingering look into the guarded compound, Vaughn backed down the branch, leaped to the ground, and started to head toward Lucas’s lair. He hadn’t forgotten and he hadn’t given up. The mystery of a Psy living so close to changeling territory would be solved. No one escaped the jaguar once he was on their trail.
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* * *
Faith stared out the kitchen window, and though only darkness looked back at her, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being stalked. Something very dangerous circled the fences that kept her isolated from the outside world. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself. And froze. She was Psy—why was she reacting like this? Was it the dark visions? Were they affecting her mental shields? Dropping her arms through sheer strength of will, she went to turn from the window. And found she couldn’t.
Instead, she pressed forward, lifting one hand to press against the glass, as if she could reach outside.
Outside. It was a world she hardly knew. She’d always lived inside walls, had had to live inside them.
On the outside, the threat of psychic disintegration was a continuous drumbeat in her head, a pounding echo she couldn’t block. On the outside, emotions hit at her from every angle and she saw things that were inhuman and vicious and painful. On the outside, she was breakable. It was far safer to live behind walls.
Except now the walls were cracking. Now things were getting in and she couldn’t escape them. She knew that as certainly as she knew she couldn’t escape whatever it was that prowled the edges of her property. The predator hunting her wouldn’t rest until he had her in his claws. She should’ve been afraid.
But of course, she was Psy. She felt no fear. Except when she slept. That was when she felt so much, she worried that her PsyNet shields would crack, revealing her to the Council. It had gotten to the point where she didn’t want to fall sleep. What if she died again and this time it was for real?
The communication console chimed into the endless silence that was her life. This late at night, it was an unexpected interruption—the M-Psy had prescribed certain hours of sleep for her.
She looked away from the window at last. As she walked, a sense of impending disaster seemed to cloak her, a sinister knowing that lay somewhere in the shadowlands between a true foretelling and the merest inkling of what might be. This, too, was new, this heavy awareness of something hovering maliciously in the wings, just waiting for her guard to slip.
Schooling her face to show nothing of her internal confusion, she pressed the answer key on the touchpad. The face that appeared onscreen was not one she’d anticipated. “Father.” Anthony Kyriakus was the head of her family. Before she’d officially reached adulthood at twenty, he’d shared custody of her with Zanna Liskowski, with whom he’d formed a fertilization contract twenty-five years ago. They’d both had a say in her upbringing, though her childhood had been nothing anyone would ever label as such. At three years after birth, she’d been removed from their care, with their full cooperation, and placed in a controlled environment where her ability could be fully trained and utilized.
And where the encroaching tendrils of madness could be kept at bay.
“Faith. I have some unfortunate news concerning our family.”
“Yes?” Her heart was suddenly a sledgehammer. She pushed all her strength toward containing the reaction. Not only was it unusual, it was the harbinger of a potential vision. And she couldn’t have a vision right now. Not the kind of vision she’d been having lately.
“Your sibling, Marine, is deceased.”
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Her mind went blank. “Marine?” Marine was her younger sister, a sister she’d never really known but had kept an eye on from afar. A cardinal telepath, Marine had already climbed high in the family’s interests. “How? Was is a physical abnormality?”
“Fortunately not.”
Fortunately, because it meant that Faith was in no danger. Though having two of the rare cardinals had made NightStar a line of considerable power, it was indisputable that Faith was the biggest NightStar asset. She was the one who brought in enough income and work to place the entire PsyClan above the masses. Only Faith’s health was truly important—Marine’s death was a mere inconvenience. So cold, so brutally cold, Faith thought, though she knew she was as cold. It was a matter of survival. “An accident?”
“She was murdered.”
The blank that had been her mind buzzed with white noise, but she refused to listen. “Murder? A human or a changeling?” Because the Psy had no killers, hadn’t had them for a hundred years, ever since the implementation of the Silence Protocol. Silence had wiped violence, hate, rage, anger, jealousy, and envy from the Psy. The side effect had been the loss of all their other emotions.
“We don’t know which. Enforcement is investigating. Get some rest.” He nodded in a sharp physical period.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
She forced herself to ask. “What was the mode of murder?” Anthony didn’t even blink as he said, “Manual strangulation.”