“Drink this.” Vasic handed her an energy drink. “Aden will forgive neither one of us if he wakes to find you weak and exhausted.”
She gulped down the drink, got up, began pacing, the rage creature angry and sad and scared. So scared. “How did he learn what he could do?” she asked just to fill her mind with something else. “What the mirror could do?”
She’d meant to ask him a hundred times, but somehow they’d never spoken of it. “He told me about Walker, how Walker taught him to shield.” She paused. “Does Walker know?” That Aden was wounded, fighting for his life. “Aden would want him to know.”
Vasic’s winter-frost eyes darkened. “I’ll go find him.”
“Wait. Don’t bring Marjorie and Naoshi,” Zaira ordered, knowing Aden wouldn’t want his parents to see him when he wasn’t at full strength.
Walker was different.
Zaira didn’t understand parental or maternal connections, but she’d felt Aden’s emotions for Walker, knew the other man held a deeply trusted place in his life.
“No,” Vasic agreed before leaving.
It took him precisely seven minutes to return with Walker Lauren. Zaira knew because she kept looking at her timepiece and calculating how long Aden had been in surgery. Too long.
Chapter 78
WALKER’S FACE WAS grim, his pale green eyes hard as he processed what Vasic had just told him. And yet, despite his obvious anger and worry, his presence was oddly stabilizing. Just like Aden’s in similar situations. Father and son, Zaira thought.
Genetics didn’t matter here. Walker and Aden had chosen their relationship.
Shoving up the sleeves of his blue shirt, Walker began to walk with Zaira, and when she asked him about Aden’s abilities, he said, “I met him as a boy of six. So calm and strong and determined, and with the beginnings of what we named the mirror.”
“You helped him shield it.”
“At first, I simply grasped the subtlety of his telepathy,” Walker said. “You know what he can do with it?”
“Yes, the Amplification Effect.” Because Aden had two abilities close to the midrange, he could amplify one to a higher Gradient. Not everyone with two midlevel abilities could do it, but in his case, the effect pushed his telepathy into the 8.3 range.
“No one even considered him capable of it because his M abilities register at 3.2. That’s extremely low for amplification.”
Zaira knew all this, but she didn’t care. Having Walker talk about Aden while Vasic listened and she asked further questions made Zaira feel as if they were surrounding Aden in their words, words that would remind him who he was to so many people, words that would hold him here. “He didn’t think he could do it himself, not until you taught him.”
“I recognized him, in a sense.” Walker frowned. “His telepathy is like mine in that it’s . . . quiet. That’s taken as weak by some when the opposite is true—trained correctly, we can work with such stealth that no one notices our intrusion.” He ran a hand through the dark blond strands of his hair, faint glints of silver catching the light.
“But it was the mirror that was the critical thing—I realized that at once as soon as I saw it, though it took me months to win his trust enough that he lowered his shields so we could work on the psychic level.” Walker would never forget the boy Aden had been, so wary and careful. “Then, the mirror was embryonic, hardly visible. It was why he hadn’t already been discovered.”
“He once told me he began to trust you the second week of class,” Vasic said quietly. “A child broke down in tears during a reading session and instead of berating or punishing her, you wiped away her tears and read her part of the text for her.”
Walker didn’t remember that particular incident, but he’d dealt with many like it. “They were all so tired and hurt and tiny.” He shook his head. “Aden was the same age, but he was already looking out for the others.”
“When he wakes,” Zaira said, her voice fierce, “I’ll allow him no arguments. I’m doing the looking after even if I have to tie him up.”
“I’ll help you with the rope,” Vasic said.
Walker looked across to the teleporter. “Aden didn’t know what the mirror was as a child and neither did I.” All he’d known was that it was unique and that it sang of power. Instinct had told him he needed to teach Aden to hide it so the boy wouldn’t be forced to use it for those who had less integrity in their entire adult bodies than Aden had in his littlest finger. “When did he figure it out?”
“We were twelve,” Vasic said. “Aden was in anti-interrogation training.”
Translation: he was being tortured.
Zaira’s teeth ground down, hands fisted. Sensing Walker’s tension, she realized he, too, had understood the truth behind Vasic’s words.
“The trainer made a mistake,” the teleporter continued. “Aden realized the man was about to accidentally snap his neck. He couldn’t stop him telepathically, not with his abilities leashed, so he says he instinctively reached for power.” Vasic’s tone was so even, Zaira knew he had vicious control on himself. “I felt him and didn’t resist the power draw. I knew Aden would never do something like that unless he was in danger.”
And that, Zaira thought, was why she had always trusted Vasic. Even when she’d been jealous of him, she’d known he wouldn’t hesitate to stand with Aden against any threat.
“The trainer didn’t realize Aden had gained strength?”
Vasic shook his head at Walker’s question. “My telekinesis gave him the power to twist out of the trainer’s hold. That sudden strength was attributed to a surge of adrenaline at being in danger.”
Zaira heard Walker and Vasic continue to talk, but her mind, it kept searching for Aden. Her chest got tighter and tighter with every failure to connect. Don’t you leave me alone, she commanded him again. Don’t you go.
A warm weight on her hair, Walker’s hand on the back of her head. “He’s strong,” the older telepath said. “Stubborn, too.”
She didn’t know why, but his calm tone, paired with the open emotion in his voice, smashed through her defenses. Maybe it was because of Aden’s memories of him, but she didn’t resist when he drew her into his arms, standing scared and angry and waiting against the warmth of him.
You finally won our argument, she said along the dead psychic pathway. I chose to be better than my past today. Wake up so you can savor your victory.
No response. Nothing but a blankness that made ice form in her blood, and the rage build again. Pulling away from Walker, she began to pace the corridor for what seemed an eternity.
And then she reached out to Aden . . . and his mind caught her own.
Twisting around as her blood thundered, she ran into the operating theater. A drained-appearing Judd was slumped against a wall, the doctor and nurses looking as tired, but Zaira’s focus was on Aden. To her shock, he pulled himself into a seated position as she watched. He was paler than he should’ve been, the skin at his neck appearing delicate and new, but he was conscious and unhurt and she could feel the wonderfulness of him inside her mind.
Opening his arms, he hauled her close. She held on tight, her heart squeezing so hard inside her chest that it hurt, her breath stuck in her lungs. She didn’t care about that, or about the others in the room, leaving that to Aden.
He would watch her back. He always had.
• • •
ARMS steel around her, Aden breathed Zaira in. When he looked up, it was to see Walker and Vasic getting everyone else out of the room. Vasic had his arm around Judd’s waist, the exhausted Tk only minutes away from a total flameout, while the doctor’s face held lines of exhaustion. Her nurses weren’t in any better condition, their feet dragging.
Walker met his gaze, the raw depth of his relief open. Hold on tight to her. She loves you.
I know. Pressing his cheek against Zaira’s temple
and sliding one hand in her hair, his other arm still locked around her, he basked in her fire, letting it banish the coldness of near death.
When she pulled away and shoved at his shoulders, he noticed she’d tempered her strength. “You aren’t meant to get hurt.” The words were gritted out. “You aren’t meant to leave me alone.”
Getting to his feet, his strength enough for that thanks to a blood transfusion, he closed the distance she’d created. She stood her ground but she was careful with how she pushed him, his lethal Arrow mate. He’d accepted that the bond might never form, her scars too deep to allow such trust, but she was his mate in every way that she could be; she had given him every trust she could.
Cupping her angry face, he said, “I’m sorry.”
She pressed her fists against his abdomen and shook her head. “I’m never allowing you out alone again.”
He loved her wildness, her spirit. “That’ll make being the leader of the squad difficult.”
“Shut up.” A growl of sound before she hugged him again, a tiny Fury who’d claimed him as her own. “We found Persephone. Alive.”
Hard, almost painful joy in his blood. “How?” He could feel exhaustion starting to drag him down, the work the medics and Judd had done not enough to erase the effects of the catastrophic hit he’d taken.
“I made the shooter talk.” Pressed up against him, Zaira suddenly stiffened her body and slipped an arm around his waist. “You’re about to keel over. Get back in bed.”
“I will, but not here.” Touching Vasic’s mind, he asked his friend for an assist, shooting him an image of the location he wanted.
The remote teleport was flawless, and Aden and Zaira were standing by the bed in their cabin the next second. Pushing him gently into it, Zaira went to the end and unsnapped his boot clips before tugging one boot off.
“I never expected you to be so domestic,” he said softly, feeling his heart expand to an impossible size.
“I told you to be quiet.” She glared at him even as she removed his other boot, then stripped off his socks. “You’re bloody. You need to be clean before you can sleep.”
“I’m not sure my legs will hold me upright at the moment,” he admitted, waves of exhaustion crashing into him. “Did the shooter tell you anything else?”
“It’s what you thought,” she said, coming around to help remove the shreds of his shirt. “This group wanted to assassinate you in order to subvert the stability not only of the PsyNet but of the world. All their actions are fueled by that single aim: to foster discord, fear, and panic.”
Zaira disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a wet cloth. Climbing into bed behind him after nudging him to a seated position, she tugged him back against her and gently cleaned the blood on his shoulders and chest that the medical staff hadn’t bothered with in the rush to save his life. “The group calls itself the Consortium.”
“You missed a spot,” he said, his mind heavy.
She kissed him for the teasing. “Do you want to hear the rest?”
“As much as I can before I fall asleep.”
“We have one of the Consortium leaders in custody,” she told him. “His memories confirm that the people at the top of the organization come from all three races—their plan is to take advantage of the post-Silence fractures to destabilize the world while putting their own empires in position to benefit from the ensuing chaos.”
Sinking against her, Aden permitted his eyes to close. The Consortium’s plan was predictable in a way—but only if you thought solely of individual gain rather than the good of the world. “Like an arms dealer who starts a war.”
Zaira ran the clean side of the damp cloth over his chest. “Yes. And here’s the other thing—they’ve made certain they can’t identify one another. All meetings were done via audio and even the voices were disguised.”
Compartmentalization at its highest. “Clever,” he murmured. “One person has to know everyone, however.”
“The instigator behind the entire idea.” Putting aside the cloth, Zaira wrapped her arms lightly around his neck. “That’s definitely not the man we captured, though once we put together all the clues from his memories, it’s likely to point us in the direction of some other players.”
“Does the Consortium want political power?”
“Not according to the shooter, but I’m getting faint hints of something else from the memories of the CEO we’ve captured—I haven’t had time to mine all the data in his mind yet.” She telepathed him the pieces she’d picked up so far.
Aden immediately saw what she hadn’t, her brain not wired for politics. “The leaders of this group want to be the shadow powers behind the throne.” It fit the cunning and slyness of their actions to date. “They want to manipulate puppets of their choosing while staying safe in their anonymous skins.” Ironic, given how they’d fostered rumors saying he was nothing but a stalking horse for the real leader of the squad.
He went to vocalize that, but his lips barely parted before a curtain of drowsiness had him fighting to raise his lashes.
Zaira pressed her lips to his temple. “Sleep. We have things under control.” Another kiss. “Vasic has promised to provide me with rope to tie you down, so don’t tempt me.”
That fire.
Aden curled his soul against it and fell asleep.
PSYNET BEACON: BREAKING NEWS
Nikita Duncan has released a statement on behalf of the Ruling Coalition quashing rumors of Aden Kai’s death. Text as follows:
An attempt was made on his life, but he is an Arrow. A simple bullet has never stopped an Arrow. Those who persist in believing otherwise will have to admit to believing in ghosts when Aden reappears.
Anyone else who wishes to try to assassinate Aden Kai should take note of the fact that the assassin is alive only because the Arrows did not find him worth executing. He is also recovering from multiple broken bones and other injuries delivered by a woman half his size.
Underestimate the squad at your own risk.
As always, the Arrow Squad itself has not responded to calls for comment.
PSYNET BEACON: LETTER TO THE EDITOR
I do not agree with the new direction taken by the strongest among us, do not agree with the fall of Silence, but I agree very much with the strength shown by the Arrows. Today’s display by the female Arrow should silence any rumors of the squad going “soft” because of their choice to align themselves with the empaths.
Protecting the empaths doesn’t make the Arrows weaker. It makes them even more ruthless. As Kaleb Krychek’s bond with Sahara Kyriakus makes him the same. This is something I’ve come to understand in the past weeks, and it conflicts with my belief that emotions—and in particular, the empaths—are the enemy of our peace. That makes it no less true.
As long as the Arrows exist, no one can doubt our strength.
Ida Mill, on behalf of Silent Voices
Chapter 79
THE ARCHITECT OF the Consortium, the brain that had seen the direction of the world and laid a plan B in place just in case, looked at the images flowing across the comm screen and knew the group had failed in its first major action.
Abducting and controlling the water-based changelings had been easy because of the creatures’ habit of roaming far distances alone or in pairs. The Consortium had also made certain not to target the strong—they had needed malleable puppets, not those who might break free of the drugs and other methods of control.
They still had a number in reserve, so that had been a success at least.
However, the water changelings had been but a single small stone on the Consortium’s path to unrivaled power. They had created myriad small networks, situated pawns they could move about as they wished, held their hand until the fall of Silence sent a shock wave across the world.
A year of hard work while the architect of it all play
ed both sides of the line, building the Consortium on one side while maintaining an “ordinary” life on the other. Unlike the others in the Consortium, the architect hadn’t decided which side to support until the final instant. As it was, plan B was now plan A.
From the first recruit, the architect had researched and targeted pragmatic and cold-blooded businesspeople across the racial spectrum. Everyone in the group had learned from watching the rise and fall of Pure Psy. There was no room for fanaticism in business or in power. Only the strongest and the smartest survived. Ego had to be left at the door, all of them meeting on a level playing field.
The architect didn’t actually believe the founding partners were all equal, but that ideology served the purpose of the Consortium at this time.
Each had supported the business interests of the other partners. Of course, the architect acted as the intermediary who made certain nothing revealed the identity of any one party to another, all the while ensuring money flowed in the right direction. Where possible, the Consortium had created problems for those who were financial or business threats, or had nudged bad feelings to grow between normally friendly competitors.
But money, while enough to satisfy those on the lower rungs of the Consortium, wasn’t enough for the upper. Their aim was to build a new world order, one in which the most ruthless and intelligent of all three races would wield power behind the scenes, working as one, while below them, the triumvirate remained splintered.
Stability might be good for the world, but it wasn’t good for their interests.
Kaleb Krychek and the Arrows were two of the most solid beams holding that shaky stability in place and giving it time to become stronger. Krychek was a difficult target and one the Consortium had set aside in favor of focusing on the squad. To have excised the Arrows from the equation, whether through an assassination or by making the squad appear weak, had been their first major goal.
The result was a resounding failure that had turned Aden Kai into a demigod and elevated the near-mythic status of the squad. The news channels were currently obsessively playing the images filmed by eyewitnesses who’d seen the female Arrow take down the Consortium shooter.
Shards of Hope (9781101605219) Page 48
