by Nalini Singh
Her concentration had been fierce, her forehead scrunched up. “I can do it, Yuri,” she’d said. “I can. Please, can I try?”
It was impossible for such a scenario to have taken place prior to the fall of Silence, but if it had, Yuri would’ve acted on his training and shut down the child’s request for the logical reason that Carolina didn’t yet have the manual dexterity to complete the delicate repair. But yesterday, Yuri had given the six-year-old the tiny laser tool, then held her soft hand steady with his scarred and leathery one as “she” made the repairs.
His expression had never altered, but the fact that he’d stayed there in the sunshine, nurturing a small child’s confidence . . . it spoke volumes.
A single act of kindness can change a life.
Zaira had said that to more than one Arrow, and it had slowly become an unofficial motto among the adults. When an Arrow who’d never experienced parental affection—the vast majority of the squad—didn’t know what to do or how to react to a child’s need, they defaulted to whatever seemed the kindest response, even if that response went against their training. Aden didn’t think Zaira realized the staggering impact of her words—adult Arrows liked structure, too, especially in this strange new territory they were attempting to navigate, this family they were building.
Music whispered on the wind, carried to him through the open windows of a classroom, art of any kind a gift that had returned to the Psy after over a hundred years. The century of Silence meant they had no teachers. Humans and changelings did, but the squad would never permit anyone into the Valley they didn’t know inside out.
So the children learned from recorded lessons.
From the sounds Aden could hear, at present, they were enthusiastic if not in tune. Smile deepening, he went looking for Vasic and Zaira. The most important people in his life were both in the Valley this morning, and he wasn’t surprised to find them together. His mate and his best friend hadn’t always been friends themselves, but these days they often ganged up on Aden when they believed he needed a break.
Today, however, they were discussing a troubled telekinetic teenager who needed help of a kind only one adult Tk was qualified to provide. “Stefan,” Zaira said to Aden when he came to stand with his body touching hers. “Do you think he has the time to take on a trainee?”
“I haven’t spoken to him in over two weeks,” Aden said, in agreement with their choice of mentor. Stefan might’ve been termed “defective” during training and transferred out of the squad, but the Arrows considered him one of their own. “Vasic? Will Stefan’s current workload on Alaris allow him time to handle a trainee?” Last he’d heard, the deep-sea station was in the midst of a refit.
Vasic flexed the fingers of his newest prosthetic arm as if testing it, the skin of the unit a gleaming obsidian that meshed flawlessly with his Arrow uniform. “I’m not sure, but I’m seeing him later this week for a telekinetic sparring session. I’ll ask.”
A born teleporter, Vasic could go to the deep-sea station without problem. To him, it was no different than teleporting to another country. There was no issue with a change in air pressure, either, since the pressure inside Alaris was identical to that on the surface. Not that it would’ve bothered Vasic regardless.
Unlike everyone on the planet but those capable of teleportation across that vast a distance, he’d suffer no ill effects from a sudden change in air pressure. Researchers had been grappling with that little quirk since the first time a teleporter figured out what he could do, courtesy of a scuba diving emergency.
“See if you can judge his mental state,” Aden said. “He might not be alone, but he’s still stuck under tons of water on a daily basis.” He’d always considered Stefan’s choice of work an odd one, given the psychological “flaw” that had gotten the other man kicked out of the squad’s training program.
“You know he’s as stable as a rock, has been for years.” Vasic’s smile was more suggestion than form. “At least he can finally openly share the reason why.”
Aden couldn’t argue with any part of Vasic’s statement. “Check anyway, ask if he’s happy to remain on Alaris.” The fall of Silence had changed everything; there was no reason for Stefan to stay underwater if he didn’t want to be there.
“I will.”
Nodding at his friend’s prosthetic, Aden said, “I could swear I saw you wearing a prosthetic with a metallic finish yesterday.”
“I was,” Vasic confirmed. “But that’s the piece Samuel uses to assess various components. This”—he flexed the obsidian hand again—“is his newest creation.”
“Any more effective than his previous one?” The gifted scientist had gone into a deep funk when the last prosthetic had shorted out in sparks, the wrist falling away from the forearm.
“Oh, it’s very effective,” Zaira said, a biting amusement in her tone. “Show him, Vasic.”
Vasic glanced around before walking over to pick up a branch.
His hand clamped around it. Dust drifted into the air.
“See, very effective.” Zaira’s comment was dead serious on the surface. “But not so useful if Vasic wants to stroke Ivy’s hair or hold her close—or pick up a glass to take a drink.”
Vasic closed his prosthetic hand around a rock. It came to the same dusty end as the branch. “I think I’ve proven this grasp has only one setting: ‘crush everything dead.’”
His friend was amused, too, Aden realized. “Rain will be disappointed,” he said as Vasic began to remove the prosthetic.
Floating it neatly to the ground using his Tk, the teleporter pinned up the sleeve of his shirt with his free hand. “Samuel won’t give up until he either dies or gets it right. Last time a prototype failed, he pulled at his hair until it stuck out in all directions, then declared he was Ahab and my prosthetic was his whale.”
“You’ve definitively decided on a prosthetic?” Aden hadn’t expected that. “Last time we talked, you were leaning against it.”
“I don’t need one,” Vasic admitted. “I’ve adapted.” Sleeve neatly pinned up, he teleported away the malfunctioning unit. “But Samuel saved my life and, oddly enough, this obsession helps keep him anchored. He usually only requires three or four hours of my time a month—it’s little enough payment for the life he gave me.”
“Does he realize you no longer want a replacement for your biological arm?” Zaira put her hands on her hips, clearly annoyed on behalf of a man she’d ignored for most of her life. “And if he succeeds, what then? You’ll be stuck with it.”
Unexpected humor in Vasic’s response. “I’m certain Samuel doesn’t care if I actually use the prosthetic. Getting a unit to function with my damaged systems is his whale. Once he does that, I’ll fall off his radar and he’ll find a new obsession.”
Aden was in full agreement: Vasic was a puzzle to be solved for Samuel Rain. That didn’t mean Aden wouldn’t protect the man for the rest of his life. Mad genius or not, Rain had saved the life of Aden’s best friend. That was a debt that could never be repaid. “The BlackSea situation,” he said into the undemanding silence among the three of them. “No new data on the kidnapped marine biologist from our sources. Changelings say the same.”
Seeing Zaira’s body tense to trembling point, he put his hand on her lower back. It was a silent reminder that she was no longer a child in a cage, that she stood with her lover and their friend underneath a sunlit sky. Free.
A dark-eyed glance from his deadly commander before she took a deep breath, and he felt her muscles begin to unlock.
“I’m assuming you’ve had no success locking on to the Canadian Cheap Electric symbol?” he said to Vasic.
The other man shook his head. “Judd was right. There are too many identical hits on the CCE logo and I can’t zero in on Leila’s face because of the damage from the scarring.” The winter gray of his eyes held an arctic chill.
“Zaira’s point on this,” Aden told his best friend. “Get all intel to her.”
An immediate nod from Vasic. While the teleporter wasn’t aware of the details of Zaira’s childhood, he’d been with her during the last rescue, understood her hunger to free the trapped.
“Trinity,” Vasic said as sounds reached them from another part of the Valley, where it appeared a martial arts class was in session. “Holding?”
“Fragile. There’s too much divisive history in the mix.”
“A summit would be useful.” Vasic hunkered down to pet a small white dog who’d run back from his adventures across the Valley. As he did, the wedding band he wore on his right ring finger caught the light, creating a golden spark. “If not for the obvious risk.”
“Yes.” Zaira folded her arms, set her feet apart. “It would generate a sitting target for the Consortium or anyone else who might want to take out a large percentage of the major powers in the world.”
Aden considered Vasic’s words, thought about Zaira’s on-point risk assessment, felt the germ of an idea. “We turn the Consortium’s tactics back on them,” he said. “No big central summit but small ones that introduce the key people in each region to one another.”
“Limiting the spread of information about the meetings, while achieving cohesion.” Vasic nodded slowly.
“In Venice,” Zaira said, her eyes faintly narrowed in thought, “the Human Alliance and I had an understanding. It kept the peace.” She bent to pet Rabbit when the dog wandered over, tail wagging triple time. “Simply knowing that your neighbor is open to dialogue could eliminate a large number of localized problems.”
“I’ll start testing the idea,” Aden said, then glanced at Vasic. “How’s Tavish?” In keeping with the squad’s decision to place Arrow children into families with active-duty Arrows, the young telekinetic boy was now part of Ivy and Vasic’s family unit—a unit that included the dog who, at present, was lying on his back, tongue lolling in ecstasy and legs in the air while Zaira rubbed his belly.
“Settling into the orchard.” Vasic’s voice held a deep, quiet joy when he spoke of his home. “He spends a lot of time with Grandfather.”
Then, Aden thought, the child was in good hands. Zie Zen—who, in truth, was actually Vasic’s great-grandfather—had more wisdom in his bones than most people would ever gain, not even if they lived two lifetimes.
“Can you stay?” Zaira asked Aden. “We could spar.”
Aden loved pitching his wits and tactical skills against Zaira’s, but he had to shake his head today. “I have a meeting with Devraj Santos in five.”
The Forgotten had requested the squad’s assistance in dealing with the wild new psychic abilities cropping up in their children. Aden was certain the change had begun even earlier, specifically with Santos’s generation, but the leader of the Forgotten wasn’t giving away anything about his own abilities.
However, after his conversation with Ivy, Aden had another critical issue to discuss with Dev. The Forgotten’s psychic network was a vibrant, living thing in comparison to the deadly disintegration pulling the PsyNet apart at the seams. It was possible the other man had useful insights Aden could pass on to the Es. “Can you give me a lift,” he said to Vasic, “or shall I ask Nerida?”
“I’ll pick you up in three minutes.” Vasic ’ported out with Rabbit, leaving Aden and Zaira alone.
At which point the woman who was Aden’s hauled him close with a grip on his T-shirt and proceeded to kiss the life out of him. You’ve become an expert in that, he telepathed to her when his brain cells started functioning again.
We’ve been practicing enough. Inside his mind, she was black fire. In front of him, she was kiss-swollen lips and a possessive touch—and icy determination. “I’m seeing Miane later today.”
“Be careful.” Aden cupped the side of her face. So delicate were her bones, in stark contrast to the intensity of her will. “The Consortium might have gone under but they’re only hibernating, waiting for a chance—and they know how important you are to me.”
“They also know I fight like a berserker.” Zaira’s smile was all teeth. “After the last assassin I took down, they’re going to have a serious recruiting problem looking for someone to hunt me.”
Aden thought of the recording he’d seen of Zaira with the point of a blade touching the assassin’s eye. She’d been all cold control on the surface while she fought a primal battle within. She’d won that battle, hadn’t given in to the rage that lived within her. And she’d made her point: Do not mess with an Arrow, especially this petite Arrow with her dark hair and midnight eyes and dangerous walk.
“Be careful anyway,” he said, his heart right there for her to see. “I need you.” Zaira was his, the only person in the entire world who belonged first to him.
“Aden.” Zaira touched her fingers to his lips, the ruby in her ring a silent representation of the flame that lived within her. “You stay safe, too. Or I’ll kill you.”
Aden felt laughter shake his shoulders. “Order heard and understood, Commander.”
“Good.” Sliding one hand to his nape, Zaira tugged him down. “Now kiss me again before Vasic returns.”
Letters to Nina
From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez
February 14, 2074
Nina,
It’s been ten months now since the Psy came. Ten months since I watched you jump into the water. Ten months since I promised I’d be right behind you.
I wasn’t. I’m so sorry, Nina. I fought them, fought to keep you safe, to keep them from knowing where you’d gone. I was no coward, I promise you this. I’m not alive and writing this letter because I hid. I fought, Nina. I fought so hard.
They took us down one by one with telepathic blows. The bodies of those we loved fell on me. When I rose to consciousness, they were heavy atop me . . . and I knew they’d saved my life. Because of my younger brother and Jorge, the soldiers missed the fact I was still alive, still had a pulse. I live because of them.
And yet here I sit in a bar drinking away my life because what use is it to be alive when I’m alone, without God, without family, without friends, without you? I would do anything, fight anyone, if only you were here. But you’re gone and I’ve forsaken God for his cruelty.
Xavier
Chapter 13
FORTY-EIGHT HOURS AFTER Aden first told Lucas of the possible threat to Naya, DarkRiver had upgraded all its security precautions regarding their young. The panther inside him in a much calmer mood now that he knew his cub and all the cubs under his watch were well protected, Lucas had far more patience for dealing with the shaky edifice that was Trinity.
“Aden’s getting ready to test intimate Trinity ‘summits’ that would act as introductions between various groups,” he told Vaughn.
The DarkRiver sentinel was sprawled in a chair on the other side of Lucas’s desk at the pack’s Chinatown HQ. With amber hair tied in a neat queue at his nape and eyes more cat than man, Lucas’s closest friend wasn’t involved in Trinity—politics wasn’t really Vaughn’s strong suit—but like all of Lucas’s sentinels, he was highly intelligent.
Scanning the memo after Lucas turned the whisper-thin computer screen toward him, Vaughn shook his head. “Tell him to nix the idea of planning each of these summits ahead of time. Set up a trustworthy team to throw things together with an hour or two of notice max.”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Hard to get people together that quickly.”
“So it takes longer to make the connections—but if there are no plans, then no one can hunt down the attendees as a group.”
It was the answer of a predator.
“You’re right.” Far better, he realized, to go slow than to rush and give the enemy exactly what it wanted.
“My work here is done.” Vaughn rose to his feet with feline grace, a smile in his eyes that had b
ecome less and less rare in the years since he’d found his F-Psy mate. Before that, Vaughn had been a loner even in the midst of a pack. A loyal friend, a trusted sentinel, but always holding himself a little separate.
Part of that was his jaguar nature, but part of it had been the echo of a soul-searing grief.
“Hello, Miss Naya,” the jaguar said now, reaching down to pick up the tiny cub who’d scampered into the room.
Lucas’s panther growled in welcome inside him.
In truth, his cub’s scamper was more “attempted scamper,” but she was so excited at being able to shift forms that she did it every chance she got. Needless to say, keeping her in clothes had become a losing proposition. Good thing that changelings were used to naked babies scrambling gleefully around.
This baby had been in the nursery next door, must’ve snuck through the connecting door into the offices. Not that anyone tried too hard to keep the cubs out. The only time that door was locked was when they were in meetings with business associates who weren’t trusted enough for DarkRiver to be carefree with its children.
Business trust was a far different beast from the trust that came with being family.
Allowing Vaughn to hold her against his chest with one capable hand, Naya purred. She loved the jaguar.
“Careful.” Lucas’s heart ached at the sound of his cub’s happiness. “She’ll be scamming you for chocolate next.”
Vaughn chuckled, using one finger to rub the top of Naya’s head. “I’m heading home for a run before I meet up with Faith.”
Naya roared—or tried to. It came out more a kittenish rumble.
Grinning, Lucas translated. “I think she wants to come. But you won’t be doing much running with her.”
