Last Guard

by Nalini Singh

  Driven by his obsession to confirm beyond any doubt that Payal wasn’t 3K, Canto had tried to get into Vara many times over the years. He’d failed. Over and over again. Now that he’d witnessed how Payal’s mind worked, it was clear that the beautiful layers of code that protected Vara were her work.

  Had her code been left alone, he’d have been out in the cold. But Lalit Rao had, seven days earlier, used his administrator access to create a back door into the system—likely so he could slip in and out were he ever shut out of legal access to Vara.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t as good as Payal, and Canto had found that door. He’d never used it, had instead intended to tell Payal of the weakness at their first meeting so she could fix it—a calculated offer of trust.

  Then she’d said “7J” and it had all flown out of his mind.

  Fate must’ve been looking out for them both, because his forgetfulness meant he could slip into Vara and watch over Payal at a time when she wasn’t able to protect herself.

  There.

  He was inside.

  Throwing up the security visuals on his screens, he zeroed in on the section he knew held her apartment. The information had come in via an informant long before they’d reconnected, when he’d simply been doing his due diligence on an influential PsyNet family. That informant—a relatively new hire—had since lost his position inside Vara due to his slapdash work. Canto’s current informant was violently loyal to Payal—a loyalty Canto had seen reflected over and over again in members of staff both junior and senior.

  Payal had no idea how much her people loved her for her fairness and kindness.

  Compliance out of fear and compliance out of devotion were two very different things.

  Today, Canto spoke telepathically to his contact inside Vara. Sunita. I need you to keep an eye on Payal’s quarters. Tell me if anyone tries to enter. An older member of staff, Sunita had sung like a gleeful canary when it came to Lalit and Pranath Rao, but her lips had always been tightly zipped on the subject of Payal. This is for her safety.

  He needed a pair of eyes on the ground in case the system sensed his intrusion and rejected him.

  Yes, I will do that, Sunita replied with her usual formal way of speaking. There is disruption in Vara. Miss Payal missed two big meetings. Is she in trouble?

  She’s fine, but she needs to rest. His pulse rapid and his gut tight, he’d looked in the Substrate three times in the past five minutes, confirmed each time that her anchor zone was holding steady. 3K had to be okay for that to be the case. We just have to give her the time she needs to recover.

  I will watch, Sunita promised.

  A ping on Canto’s system alerted him to another hack in progress. Frowning, he glanced at the data and realized Lalit Rao was attempting to get into Payal’s private files while she was incommunicado. The man wouldn’t succeed—he didn’t have a brain half as dazzling as his sister’s.

  Canto would stand guard regardless. Lalit would not hurt Payal while she was down. Only another anchor might ever understand what she’d done, the death she’d courted by standing so close to the vortex, but that took nothing away from her courage and her ferocity.

  Sending a targeted worm through the system, he set it to corrupting the other man’s files. The security subsystems would soon hit Lalit with an emergency alert that should distract him for hours.

  Canto could’ve asked Genara to teleport him into Vara since he now had the necessary visuals, but right now he was more useful to Payal as a dangerous ally hidden in the shadows.

  He was also fully capable of killing Lalit Rao from a distance.

  It was amazing how much current could be fed through a single point if you shut off the safety features. All Canto would need was for Lalit to make contact with a computronic point—such as Payal’s secure doorknob. It wouldn’t be pretty, but it would get the job done.

  Never again would anyone hurt or hunt Canto’s 3K.

  Chapter 21

  Without you, I would be a monster.

  —Kaleb Krychek to Sahara Kyriakus

  KALEB ASSISTED ADEN to finish the repair. The two of them then checked it sector by sector. “It’ll hold, but it’s like the other recent ones.” A repair they’d have to strengthen again and again in the coming months to maintain its integrity.

  “Are you tired?”

  “Yes.” Psychic tiredness was a rare thing for Kaleb—as a dual cardinal, he could access more energy than most Psy could even imagine. “Nowhere close to flameout, but this was a difficult repair. The worst we’ve had to date.”

  “I agree. Maybe that was why the anchor spoke to me.”

  “Possible. But we’ve had critical incidents in the past without any anchor contact.” Yet PsyNet logistics dictated that the As had to have been working alongside them the entire time.

  Aden put his thoughts into words. “The anchors must have been adapting to the changes in the PsyNet for the PsyNet to retain any kind of stability. It was a mistake to think of them as a passive presence.”

  “We have a dangerous blind spot.” Not words Kaleb had ever expected to say when he’d spent his entire adult life gathering information—because in that lay power. Yet he’d permitted Designation A to slip under his radar.

  “I’ll find out the name of the anchor in this region.” He’d also touch base with Ena regarding the Mercant anchor who’d asked for data on Sentinel. Clearly, that A was taking a serious and active interest in current matters.

  “Intake nutrients first,” Aden said.

  Unspoken was the fact that even with a corps of other strong Psy now trained to counter breaches, Aden and Kaleb remained the strongest and most skilled at the task. They had to be ready to respond at a moment’s notice. “I’ll give you the same advice.” He and Aden weren’t friends, but they’d become brothers-in-arms after so long fighting together.

  The two of them parted without further words.

  When Kaleb opened his eyes to the cold dark of very early morning in Moscow, it was to see Sahara standing in the doorway that led into their house, a glass of nutrient liquid in her hand. She wore one of his shirts with the sleeves folded back, the color an ice white, paired with dark gray leggings that were stretchy and soft.

  Padding out onto the deck on socked feet, she handed over the drink. “I felt you go.”

  Both he and Sahara had been meant to have early meetings with other time zones today, and he’d been outside exercising to shake off the night when Aden sent him the emergency alert. His naked upper body was now covered in sweat, and the thin black fabric of his pants stuck to his skin.

  The cool bite of the morning air was welcome against his overheated flesh.

  Accepting the drink, he swallowed it down to the last drop. Sahara had made sure it wasn’t one of the flavored varieties she preferred. She might be the reason Kaleb wasn’t a ravening monster, every cell of his body hers to command—but he drew the line at peach- and cherry-flavored nutrients.

  She smiled after he teleported the glass back to the kitchen. “How about banana?”

  “It should remain a fruit.”

  Her laughter was soft and husky, sparks of delight in the midnight blue of her eyes. But it faded too fast. Placing a hand on his back, touching him as she so often did—just because she wanted to be close—she said, “That was a hard one, wasn’t it?”

  “Major cascading breach.” As she listened, he told her about the anchor who’d spoken to Aden.

  Wide eyes. “Anchors don’t talk to anyone, I mean, I’m sure they do—but they never talk about anchor business. They just . . . do it.”

  “Unless the situation is now so critical that they have no choice.” Grabbing the towel he’d left on an outdoor chair, he began to rub his face and hair dry. “I need a shower.”

  “Go, have a long one.” She pressed her fingers to his lips when he would
’ve spoken. “Finding out about the anchor can wait a few more minutes. Look after yourself first.”

  She kept on doing that. Looking after him. Protecting him. Him, a man who could topple cities with the power of his mind alone. Seeing the fine lines flaring out from the corners of her eyes, sensing her concern in the way she ran her hand over him, he did as she’d ordered and got himself to a bathroom lush with plants his lover babied every morning.

  When a naked Sahara stepped into the large space minutes later, he welcomed her with open arms and a hungry mouth. He hadn’t understood pleasure before her, hadn’t understood that touch could be wanted and not simply borne. All slippery limbs and possessive lips, she kissed and bit and claimed him all over again as he found home inside her. Always, he’d find home with Sahara.

  Afterward, he pulled on a pair of sweatpants while she threw on a loose sweater-dress that came to halfway down her thighs. Hit by a wave of raw possessiveness, he gripped her by the waist, held her. If he ever lost her . . .

  Her fingers on his jaw, her charm bracelet sliding over her wrist, she rose on tiptoe to brush her mouth over his. “Don’t go there. Into the dark.” An order. “Stay in the now. In the here. With me.”

  Pressing his forehead to hers, he exhaled before nodding. Sometimes the demons tried to claw him back into the relentless fury in which he’d lived after she’d been taken from him, but that past held nothing but pain. This, where they were now—despite all the problems in the PsyNet—it held only beauty of a kind he hadn’t known could exist.

  Hands linked, they walked to the kitchen, where she made him a second drink.

  Lips curving, she said, “Kiwi?”

  “Is a bird.”

  Laughter in the air again as she pushed across the drink. Her bracelet tinkled gently, and he caught sight of the most recent charm he’d given her: a flower in full bloom, its petals pink sapphires and its heart a yellow diamond.

  For his birthday, she’d talked his admin into ensuring that his schedule was free of all meetings—and then she’d “kidnapped” him for a visit to a theme park where, disguised to avoid recognition, they’d ridden all the rides and eaten the bad food, and he’d won her a stuffed creature of indeterminate origin that she kept in her home office.

  Giving him, giving them, the kind of innocent joy they’d never had as children.

  Seated at the counter, he waited for her to join him before he said, “I need to track down that A, find out what she means when she talks about the Substrate.”

  “You’re extremely annoyed you don’t know this already.” She rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone.”

  He scowled at her, the gentle teasing something else to which he’d become accustomed. She kept on doing things to pull him into the light, keep him from giving in to his tendencies toward cold-eyed power. “I was a Councilor and yet this subject never came up.”

  “We both know our race has managed frankly remarkable feats of memory loss—we even forgot an entire designation. In comparison to that, this is a minor oversight.”

  The most dangerous thing was that she was right. It made Kaleb wonder what other critical data lay mothballed in the past, gathering dust while the PsyNet floundered. Today, however, his priority was the Delhi hub-A.

  “The entire anchor database now has dual protections—I have to get Ivy Jane’s authorization as well as my own.” Everyone knew Kaleb could breach almost any wall put in place to keep him out, but he had no reason to breach this one. He had no ill intent.

  Sahara picked up the phone she’d left on the breakfast counter. “She was online just before—it’s early evening for her.” Her fingers flew over the screen. “If you’re right about the A working as hard as you and Aden, you’ll have to wait to talk to her. You’re tired, so she has to be close to flameout.”

  A reply popped onto Sahara’s phone screen at the same instant: Tell Kaleb I’ll meet him at the vault that holds the data.

  That vault was on the PsyNet. But, courtesy of the Pure Psy attacks in 2081, it didn’t hold information on every A in the world. The information had been split into myriad pieces, much of it held safe by trusted parties, and the rest scattered across seven PsyNet vaults. It was a safeguard so a breach wouldn’t expose all the anchors in the network.

  Each member of the Ruling Coalition knew which data guardian or vault held which segment of information, the reason why Ivy Jane hadn’t had to specify it for him. The president of the Empathic Collective also had to be the second person to authorize any request for access. Of them all, she was the one most likely to hold on to her ethical center.

  On the PsyNet, Ivy Jane’s presence held an echo of empath-gold. “Who are you looking for?” she asked once they were inside the vault.

  “The main anchor for the region that fractured today. Around Delhi.” It was at times hard to tell which physical location correlated to the psychic, but not with such a major city—and not when fatalities had reached over two hundred and fifty. People had collapsed where they stood, their minds crushed in the initial assault.

  “Here.” Ivy pointed out the segment of data that related to northern India.

  It only took him half a minute to find the name: Payal Rao.

  Chapter 22

  We are not meant to be alone.

  As a species, we’re designed to be social. Yet we’ve told ourselves for over a hundred years that Psy are different from humans and changelings, that we can function at full capacity within the cold loneliness of Silence—denying ourselves all bonds, including those formed in spaces such as the PsyNet and the Internet.

  Each of us must accept that that was a mistake. To move forward, we must embrace the truth: that Psy need connections as much as changelings and humans—and that such need isn’t a flaw or a weakness.

  —PsyNet Beacon social interaction column by Jaya Laila Storm

  PAYAL.

  Mmm.

  Wake up, baby. Or I could send an electrical shock through the door and fry your brother’s brains. Sounds like a better idea to me.

  Payal’s eyes snapped open. Canto?

  Even as she reached for him with her mind, she winced at the high-pitched sounds emanating from her organizer—the emergency alarm from her security system. Coming immediately out of her groggy state, she turned off the alarm, then got out of bed and scanned outward with her telepathic senses.

  Multiple minds beyond the door.

  They can’t get in. Canto’s voice, as clear as an ice-cold lake. But I’m picking up chatter that they’re considering a battering ram. Want me to melt Lalit’s brain?

  He sounded serious.

  No, that’ll just cause questions.

  She should’ve been grilling him about his security access, but ignoring that, she pulled up the external visual feed on her organizer. A maintenance team stood outside, with her brother giving them orders. “Lalit,” she said through the intercom, “what are you doing?”

  He stilled, then looked up at the door camera. “You’ve been incommunicado for hours, dearest bahena.” He made the word for “sister” sound slimy. “Father asked me to check on you.”

  “My apartment is fitted with sensors that would’ve sent out a medical alert had I been incapacitated.” Her father was the one who’d suggested it—though Payal had sourced her own tech so he couldn’t sneak in subtle surveillance. The fact was, her tumors could grow in the time between scans, leading to a sudden collapse; a medical alarm was a sensible precaution. “Leave now.”

  Muting Lalit’s response, she contacted her father through the comm, audio only. “Father, did you receive a medical alert?”

  “No, but you weren’t responding to any attempt to contact you. I assumed you’d had a psychic breakdown.”

  Breakdown.

  The word choice was intentional, a reminder that she was “unstable.” Hav
ing been born with the intelligence to see through his manipulation was one of the strongest weapons in her arsenal. She’d been more vulnerable as a child, but she hadn’t been a child for a long time. “I had to deal with the possible collapse of the PsyNet over Delhi. I’m sure you heard of it.” No one in this area of the PsyNet could’ve missed the massive fissure.

  Pranath’s pause went on a beat too long. “You were involved in that?”

  “I’m an anchor, Father. The Delhi hub. What do you think I do? Now I need to be left alone to finish my work. Or would you rather the Net collapse and take us all with it?”

  No response, but the maintenance crew outside her door began to disperse. Lalit shot a malicious smile toward the camera, and she knew this was just another imagined slight her brother was adding to his list of grievances. She’d never understood if his brain was miswired, or if it was simply his personality, but he hoarded grievances the same way he hoarded money and power.

  The first thing she did was check the number of fatalities: twohundred and sixty-three. Three hundred and seven more noted as injured, half of them badly.

  Her stomach lurched.

  Forcing herself to breathe through the punch of it, she read through the rest of the bulletin sent out by Anthony Kyriakus on behalf of the Ruling Coalition. The city’s medical system had switched into disaster mode, had hauled in all standby medics, and was coping with the influx with the assistance of EmNet—which had organized the teleportation of more medics and supplies from outside the affected zone.

  No one was missing out on medical care.

  So much death and pain, but she had to remember it could’ve been far worse, or the thought would paralyze her. Canto?

  I’m here.

  Why were you watching when Lalit came?

  I knew he’d try some bullshit, and you needed your rest. He sounded like he was growling, a ferocious dragon who’d hunched his lethal mind over her vulnerable form, his claws extended and teeth bared. Your data security kept him out of your files, but then the manipulative shit went running to your father. Few hours earlier and I’d have run that current through him without hesitation.