“even though I hate putting our children on anything.”
“But?”
“But those drugs basically turn him into a zombie.” He glanced toward the doorway, compassion in every tired line of his face.
“Does he understand what’s happened?”
“Tag hasn’t been able to draw him out—Cruz probably sees him as his jailer, so that’s not much of a surprise.”
Dev recoiled inwardly, remembering Katya’s turned back, her empty voice. “I’ll talk to him. Is there anything else I need to know?” Shoving everything but Cruz to the back of his mind, he took off his suit jacket, then undid and removed his tie before undoing the top buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. No use going into a child’s room looking like the school principal.
“He’s got no family as far as we can figure out—Aryan’s team tracked him on the ShadowNet.”
“Whydidn’twepickhimupifhe’slinkedin?”NoteveryFor gotten needed the biofeedback provided by the ShadowNet—like so many things, it depended on their complicated genetic structure. “This is why we constantly run those seminars, so adults know to look out for minors who might need help.”
“Because no one could ‘see’ him,” Glen replied. “Boy’s completely isolated.”
That, Dev knew, should’ve been impossible. Everyone had someone to whom they felt connected, even if that connection was an unhealthy one neither party would choose. “Aw, hell.” No wonder the kid was scared. Making a decision, he rubbed at his jaw. “Can Tag keep a hold on Cruz from outside the room?”
“Yes. You want to be alone with him?”
At Dev’s nod, Glen went to the bedroom doorway and waved Tag out. The big man walked into the living area on silent feet, his eyes blazing with fury. “I could strangle his grandparents.”
Dev shook his head. “Not if I got to shoot them first.” If Cruz had been brought in as per protocol, he would’ve been taught to develop and protect his powers from childhood. Now, they might be lucky to salvage his sanity. “I could be a while. You okay to hold the shield?”
“I can do it twenty-four hours a day if necessary,” Tag said. “Kid’s not fighting me—doesn’t know how. But I have to remain within a certain radius.”
“Can Tiara spell you?”
Tag turned his head but not before Dev glimpsed the dark red flush along the tops of his cheekbones. “She just got on an airjet from Paris.”
Glen’s eyes lit up with unholy glee. “You must be looking forward to catching up with her.”
“I’ll beat you both up if you don’t shut it.”
Glad for the tiny burst of amusement, even if it came nowhere close to easing the ice around his soul, Dev walked into Cruz’s room, shutting the door behind himself. The boy was curled up on his side, his ten-year-old body much smaller than it should’ve been.
His hair was dark and silky—and cut in a bowl shape that would’ve sent most kids howling to their moms. But Cruz didn’t have a mom to complain to. And, until the past few hours, he probably hadn’t even realized what he looked like. Now, the boy’s huge, dark eyes followed Dev as he grabbed a chair and pulled it forward so he was sitting at Cruz’s bedside. That was when he got the first shock.
Glen had said Cruz’s eyes were human. They weren’t. This close, Dev saw the odd flicker of dark gold in the depths of the near-black irises. Extraordinary. Why had no one noticed? Thinking back, he found the answer—it was possible the drugs had messed Cruz up so completely his gaze had gone dull, too.
“I’m Dev,” he said, and waited. Cruz was a ghost to his psychic senses, so slight as to be nonexistent.
The boy didn’t say a word.
Smiling, Dev took a different tack. “You’re not going to believe this, but I was once your age. If I’d had that haircut in flicted on me, I’d have done serious damage to the hairdresser.”
A blink. Nothing else.
“You want me to organize someone to fix it?”
Another blink, but slower this time.
Dev grinned. “Or you could keep it. Women seemed to find it cute on a kid. You’ll probably get spoiled half to death.”
Cruz raised a hand to his hair, pulling it forward as if to see the color. “My mom used to cut my hair.” His voice was quiet... and full of a vicious psychic power he had no ability to control.
PETROKOV FAMILY ARCHIVES
Letter dated May 25, 1975
Dear Matthew,
Your sister Emily sleeps beside me, but even her sweet smile can’t stop the grief that ravages my heart. Your father . . . I always knew that as a foreseer, he was at a far higher risk of mental illness than the majority of the population. And yet I tried not to know. Because he is my heart—I don’t know what I would do without him.
He admitted himself to a psychiatric ward today. I begged him not to go. I’m scared of the currents in the Net, the wave of support for Silence. Ever since the Adelajas provided the “proof” of their sons, more and more people are being swayed to the Council’s way of thinking. What proof, I ask you. Where are Tendaji and Naeem? Why do we never see them anymore?
No one will answer my questions, and now I’m afraid for my position in the ministry. I’m speaking too loudly. It’s not in my nature to close my mouth, but we need the money. So I’ll try to listen instead. And I’ll pray that your father comes home soon.
With all my love,
Mom
CHAPTER 21
Katya had been through every room of the apartment. It was a generous space—bedroom, bathroom, and a kitchenette that flowed off the wide main living area. But there was no getting out of it except through the front door, no avenues of escape whatsoever. Even the knives in the kitchen were small, barely sharp enough to cut fruit.
Devraj Santos was not a stupid man.
At least, she thought, trying to find a silver lining, he respected her skills enough to put her in a place from which only a teleporter might be able to escape. Too bad that wasn’t part of her psychic skill set.
Another piece of memory slotted into the jigsaw that was her mind.
Her eyes widened. “Of course.” She’d been ignoring the very thing that made her different, that made her unique. Yes, she was a telepath—level 4.5 on the Gradient. That meant she was—just—a midrange Tp-Psy. She was also a Gradient 4.9 M-Psy.
Two midrange abilities.
What she’d just realized was that a person with two midrange abilities could sometimes create an amplification effect—usually on only one of the abilities. However, that effect was so unpredictable that it could be hidden by the user—and she’d hidden hers; otherwise, she would’ve been pressed into a very different kind of service.
That’s why, she thought, seeing a complete chunk of her past in one clean sweep, she and Ashaya had worked so well together in their rebellious activities—Katya had been able to get messages out to almost everyone in the resistance. Because when she exercised her ability to amplify, her Tp skills went from 4.5 to 9 on the Gradient.
And a level 9 telepath could talk to pretty much anyone she wanted. But—she frowned—she hadn’t, not for those last months. Why? Her hands lifted to her head, the heels of palms pressing against her temples.
A dart of pain, but it pulled the memory with it.
“Everything that can be done low-tech”—Ashaya’s familiar voice—“we do that way. He suspects you, Ekaterina. And I need you too much to lose you to him.”
“My telepathy would make things quantifiably easier.”
“Not if you’re dead. It takes energy for you to merge your abilities—it’ll be noticed if you increase your intake of nutrients, if you sleep more.”
Katya staggered as her mind ricocheted back to the present. Ashaya had been right—the shadow-man...Ming—another flash of memory, her torturer’s identity delineated with flawless clarity—had suspected her. But now there was no one to watch her, to see if she suddenly changed her eating or sleeping habits. Ming had blocked her access to the Net, but he
hadn’t done anything to stifle her ability to use her inborn talents. A chill spread over her heart—he might even have programmed her to use those talents exactly as she was thinking of doing.
A moment of paralysis. “No.” She tilted her chin, forced herself to breathe.
If she let fear stop her, he would have truly won. She had to go forward believing her actions were her own, trusting that she’d somehow risen from the ashes, begun to reform her personality, become the phoenix that lived in her soul.
Surely, surely Ming hadn’t considered her firestorm reaction to Dev, or how that reaction would make her want to become stronger—so she could hold her own against the relentless strength of him. “The only way to know is to try.”
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into an armchair and closed her eyes. Usually when she used Tp, she was aiming for a specific destination—a particular mind. But, as a telepath, she could also “hear” others if she opened her senses. However, like most of her designation, she kept that aspect of her mind locked tight the majority of the time—even in the PsyNet, there were individuals whose shields leaked a constant flow of thought. Multiply that irritation by thousands and you had a recipe for madness.
And here, outside the Net? It was likely to be a million times worse. The majority of humans didn’t have anything but the most basic shields. Given their history, the Forgotten were likely to be a fraction more sophisticated, but there would still be any number of leaks, of voices.
Soothing the butterflies in her stomach with the knowledge that she could shut off the open pathways at any instant, she gripped the arms of the armchair and dropped her internal shields.
An instant of pure silence.
WHTIOSKTNIHIGHNSTIONTIJO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Her head snapped back against the headrest as her shields slammed shut with brutal force. It took several minutes for her head to stop ringing. Her spine was damp with sweat by the time she reopened her eyes, her hair plastered to her forehead.
“Okay,” she said, “okay.” Calming her racing heartbeat enough that she could force her mind to cooperate took another five long minutes. Finally able to think again, she gripped the chair arms even harder and dropped her internal shields once more—this time, by the merest fraction.
Dev was talking to Cruz about model cars—a hobby the boy remembered enjoying before he’d been placed into state care—when there was a knock on the door. Dev got up. “I’ll have to see what that is. They wouldn’t interrupt unless it was important.”
Tiny lines appeared on Cruz’s forehead. “I can almost hear something.” He shook his head. “It’s gone now. He scared it away.” Making a face, Cruz fluffed his pillow and glared at the doorway.
Eyebrows raised, Dev opened the door and walked out—to find himself toe to toe with Tag. The big telepath had a thunderous look on his face.
Since the other man usually made an extreme effort to appear nonthreatening, Dev’s instincts went on full alert. “What?”
“Close the door.” His voice shook with fury.
“I’ll sit with Cruz.” Walking in, Glen shut the door behind himself.
Dev met Tag’s eyes. “You look like you want to kill someone.”
“That would be you,” Tag muttered succinctly. “I should fucking pound your stubborn head into the ground.”
“You could try.”
“Pretty boy, I could crush you with one fist.” Releasing a huge breath, Tag pointed up. “You’ve got a goddamn powerful telepath up there and you didn’t think to warn me?”
Dev froze. “What’re you talking about? She’s midrange, weaker than—”
“Bullshit,” Tag interrupted. “Your little secret is closer to the very high end of the spectrum.” Tag shook his head, rubbing at the sides of his temples. “I just caught her mind as it brushed mine. Don’t know what she was looking for, but I hope to hell I gave her enough of a scare that she stopped.”
Dev was already moving, anger rising inside him in a scalding wave. A telepath that strong could do a massive amount of damage. Katya could tear apart the shields of the weaker members of Shine, leave his people nothing more than vegetables. And he’d brought her here. He’d kept her safe.
Slamming out with his senses, he touched every drop of metal in the building. As a result, his fury had turned into a cold kind of rage by the time he reached Katya’s suite. Using his abilities to unlock the door before he got to it, he pushed through with every intention of flaying her with his tongue.
That was before he saw her collapsed in an armchair, blood leaking out of her nose.
What had Tag done?
Putting his fingers on the pulse in her neck, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Why, he didn’t know. Her death would’ve made his life considerably simpler. Pushing aside his violent repudiation of the thought, he pulled out his cell and called Tag. “She’s unconscious.”
“She should be,” Tag said. “I sent through a scream along the telepathic line.”
Dev’s hand clenched on the phone. Tag had done the right thing, but damn if he didn’t want to punch the other man in the face for it. God, he was fucking pathetic. This woman had played him from day one, and still he wanted to protect her. “Is she going to come out of it soon?”
“Won’t be long. It’ll teach her a lesson.” Tag’s voice changed. “No telepath should ever leave themselves that open, Dev. She should know that. If I’d wanted to, I could’ve sent in something more than a scream.”
Even with rage an icy inferno inside him, Dev knew why Katya had taken the chance. “I put her in a prison. What would you have done?”
“Probably the same.” Tag took a deep breath. “That doesn’t mean we can afford to feel sorry for her. Your shields are titanium, but she’s strong enough to break the shields of half the people in Shine.”
“I’ll make sure there isn’t a next time.” Closing the phone, he slid it into his pocket before walking into the bathroom and returning with a damp towel. There wasn’t much blood, but he left the stained towel on the little end table as he waited for her to come out of it, an explicit visual reminder of what she’d just chanced.
As he waited, he slid a critical glance over her face. Impossible as it was, it seemed as if she’d dropped several pounds in the short time since he’d last seen her. But that, he thought, rejecting his natural instincts, wasn’t his problem. This time, he wasn’t going to let her use his weakness where vulnerable women were concerned against him. If she wanted to starve herself, he’d let her.
Katya’s head was a pounding bruise, dark and mottled, when she finally managed to open her eyes. Her stomach revolted at almost the same instant, and she pitched forward, feeling her gorge rise.
“Breathe!”
The snapped command cut through everything, chilling her with its utter control. When a glass was pushed under her nose, she took it and rose slowly back up into a sitting position.
“Drink,” Dev ordered, his face ruthless in a way she’d never before seen. “It’ll get your system up and running faster.”
Since she felt like she’d been hit by a truck, she wasn’t going to argue with anything that made her feel better. Bringing the glass to her lips, she drank deep. It tasted slightly sweet, with a strong medicinal aftertaste. Guessing he’d laced the water with vitamins, she finished the entire glass before putting it on the table beside the armchair. “Whose blood is that?” she asked, seeing the damp towel.
“Whose do you think?”
She swallowed and looked at the very dangerous man sitting in the armchair across from her, one foot hooked easily over the opposing knee. It made him no less intimidating. In fact, the sheer calm of him set her pulse to clamoring. He was angry, so angry that her very cells spiked with fear. “Dev,” she began.
“When precisely,” he interrupted, “were you planning to tell me you were a telepath with enough power to conceivably blow out a mind?” Cool tone, flawless enunciation, eyes that tracked her with unflinching focus.
&n
bsp; “I didn’t know.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, feeling unaccountably exposed. “I swear to you I didn’t know until just before I decided to go exploring.”
“Exploring?” He raised an eyebrow. “Let’s leave that aside for a minute—exactly how stupid do you think I am?”
“I don’t—”
“Stop.” It was a single terse word that cut off her very breath. “The amnesia thing isn’t going to fly anymore.”
Emotion rose in a cresting wave. “It’s the truth. I’m remembering more, but it’s not—”
“I don’t give a shit.” Said in that same scarily calm voice. “All I’m interested in are your orders.”
“I. Don’t. Know.” The swell of emotion was filling her limbs, turning her voice husky. “And it doesn’t matter how many times you ask me—I’m still not going to remember until the memories come back. I might not remember even then, depending on the programming.”
“We’ve been over this—as far as Shine is concerned, you’re a fully functional covert operative.”
Shine.
Not Dev.
“And you?” she asked. “What do you think?”
A cool glance, with a dark edge she’d never before seen. “I think I’ve been made a patsy.” He stood. “But no one can say I don’t learn from my mistakes.”
“Dev—”
He bent down to put his hands on the arms of her chair, blocking her in. “Don’t ever try to scan anyone at Shine again. I’ve authorized the use of deadly force against you.”
All the air left her body. Her heart felt as if it had turned into rock. But she refused to let him see, refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d savaged something barely grown inside of her. “Understood, Mr. Santos.”
His face, his expression, none of it changed. “Good. Make sure it stays that way.”
CHAPTER 22
Katya found herself staring at the door long after it closed on Dev’s back. Not that long ago, she’d asked him to kill her if it became necessary. Now, the thought of living was a rebellious pulse inside her. She’d beat this—if only to show Devraj Santos that she wasn’t an inconvenience he could lock away out of his sight. She was Katya Haas, and she was a person. She’d bled for her right to be a person. She’d survived!
Blaze of Memory Page 12
