by Nalini Singh
Vasic got her to the floating city, said, “If you need someone to take the psychometric to the site, I’ll do it.”
“We’re starting to owe the Arrows far too many favors,” Miane said without heat. “Thank you. Now let me see if he’s willing to do this.”
• • •
VASIC was both surprised and not when the Ps-Psy proved to be Tanique Gray. Anthony Kyriakus’s children had never been ordinary and, given their father, their rebel leanings were almost to be expected. Because he’d seen psychometrics at work before, Vasic kept Tanique within sight once he’d ’ported Miane and the young male to the location of Leila Savea’s captivity, ready to get him to a medical unit should it be necessary.
He didn’t think Miane and the other changelings realized the cost of a Ps-Psy’s abilities. Likely because psychometrics were rare and tended to work mostly with museums and the like. That didn’t negate the danger; it simply kept it out of public view. The last emergency Vasic had heard of, had involved a Ps-Psy who’d been asked to verify the provenance of an old sword.
He’d been paid a considerable sum to handle the weapon because most psychometrics wouldn’t touch anything with a known history of violence. As it happened, the compensation could never have been enough. The Ps-Psy had managed to scream that the weapon had been used in a recent massacre before he stopped talking and started convulsing.
He was still in a high-dependency unit in a private medical facility. The chances of his waking up were slim, but he was kept alive because there was a chance, and Ps-Psy were valuable enough that no one wanted to squander the opportunity, should it exist.
Today he saw Tanique freeze to a stop on the floor of the main room, well before he reached the entrance to what must’ve been Leila Savea’s cell. The younger male’s muscles contracted, his hands fisting as his breathing turned ragged.
Vasic didn’t hesitate. He teleported the other man out of the building and into the trees just outside.
Miane spun around to face Vasic. “What the hell? He was getting something.”
“He was about to go into a seizure.” Shifting on his heel, Vasic walked to where he’d teleported Tanique.
Faith NightStar’s brother was bent over with his hands on his knees, his chest heaving as he sucked in gulps of air.
“What’s wrong with him?” Miane asked, but didn’t wait for an answer before pulling out a bottle of water from the pack of a nearby BlackSea soldier and walking over to put it by Tanique’s feet.
Vasic liked her better for the action, for her awareness that her packmate’s life wasn’t the only one that held importance. Waiting until she’d returned to his side, he said, “A psychometric picks up echoes. The older the object, the duller the echo. The newer the object, the harsher and louder.”
Frowning, the BlackSea alpha said, “He wasn’t handling anything at the time.”
“Why do you think he took off his shoes before he went inside?” The building itself was an object and Tanique’s bare feet had been on a critical part of it.
Realization chilled Miane’s features. “Leila was tortured on that spot,” she said in a cold, hard voice. “And that kid relived it?”
That “kid” was a highly gifted psychometric who cost hundreds of thousands to the institutions that hired him. But yes, he “felt” young. Innocent. Enough that Vasic was compelled by the urge to protect him as he would young Arrows who were out of their depth. “We’ll find out soon.” Because Tanique was picking up the bottle of water and drinking.
“Is he sensing things from the bottle?” Miane frowned. “Shit, I didn’t even think about it hurting him.”
Vasic shook his head. “He can shield against his sensitivity to physical echoes the same way powerful telepaths can shield against the noise of the world.” Tanique had to deliberately lower his shields to sense anything from the objects around him.
“I’m glad for him.” Miane folded her arms. “It’d be hell to walk through life never knowing what object or place might send you right into a nightmare.”
The psychometric finished half the bottle, capped it, then came to stand opposite them, more on Vasic’s side than Miane’s. “Thank you,” he said to Vasic, his pupils still hugely dilated. “I’ve never been near such a recent violent event.”
Some might have been surprised by that, since Tanique was Anthony’s son and Anthony was known to be a ruthless operator. But Anthony didn’t think in terms of exploiting his family. He had to understand what Tanique’s ability demanded from him, must’ve ensured his son was never asked to take on tasks that could permanently compromise him.
Vasic inclined his head. “Did you pick up anything useful that might help us track the BlackSea changeling?” He’d phrased the question very deliberately so Tanique wouldn’t feel forced to detail Leila Savea’s torture.
That would help no one, and while Miane Levèque could put on the appearance of calm, Vasic knew she was changeling under the skin, had the same primal drives. There was no point in enraging her any further.
“Nothing,” Tanique said after shooting Vasic a grateful look. “I think I should focus on the doorway. Since it’s the only route by which they could’ve left, I stand a higher chance of picking up facts about their departure.”
“Wait.” Miane went as if to touch Tanique’s upper arm, dropped her hand partway. “Do you sense things from people, too?” she asked, though Vasic didn’t think that had been her original intention.
Tanique shook his head. “Only inanimate objects, though the size of the object doesn’t have a bearing on my ability. I have picked up echoes from trees in rare circumstances, but that’s about as close as I get to reading a living creature.”
“Good to know.” Miane accompanied them back to the doorway. “Did you pick up anything about the people who are keeping Leila captive? Are they Psy?”
Tanique took several seconds to reply. “You must understand,” he said at last. “What I see, I have to interpret. It comes in kaleidoscopic pieces in a massive rush . . . like I’m standing in a wind tunnel with images blowing past me at rapid speed, and those images are in splinters.”
The young male had left out a critical word: “emotion.”
That was the secret psychometrics had somehow managed to keep through Silence—that when they read an object, they felt the emotional resonance attached to it. It was why so many of them had switched to dating only paintings or other objets d’ art. Things that were highly unlikely to have an intimate history of violence. Weapons had been off the agenda for most Ps-Psy for far longer than the span of Silence.
“You’re telling me you can’t say anything with certainty?” Miane asked, and though she had to be fighting a brutal tumult of emotions, her tone was even. “Without that clue about Edward’s Pier, we’d never have got this far.”
“It’s different with people,” Tanique said. “Especially when it comes to race. Unless a changeling shifted right at the moment I pick up, or a Psy used his or her ability in an obvious way, all I can give you are my impressions.”
Again, he was leaving out the impact of emotion. A holdover from when he’d had to hide that aspect of his abilities under Silence?
“Understood,” Miane said. “What did you get?”
“Two people. One female, one male. No real impression of their faces.” Leila was bleeding, had been recently beaten, her face cut. Should I tell the alpha?
That last statement was sent telepathically to Vasic. No, he answered. Focus only on the practical facts.
Aloud, Tanique said, “My impression is of weapons around the male, not so much around the female, but that’s it. Nothing you can use for identification purposes.”
Miane’s mouth tightened but she didn’t push any further as Tanique went to the doorway. Keeping her voice low, she spoke to Vasic. “He’s more green than I realized. Pull him out if you think he’s i
n trouble—he helped us get this far and I’m not repaying that by screwing up his head.”
Vasic didn’t take his eyes off Tanique. “Even at the cost of your packmate’s life?”
Voice grim, Miane said, “He’s someone’s kid, too.” That statement was followed by one that was far more pragmatic. “And he can’t help us if he’s dead or if his brain is damaged by convulsions.”
In front of them, Tanique was running his hands all around the doorway. Satisfied with whatever he sensed, he put one foot inside, then two. He stayed there for about a minute before he walked back to join them. “Water,” he said. “The overwhelming impression is of water. Saltwater,” he specified. “They’re heading in the direction of saltwater.”
Vasic could sense Miane’s frustration. There were oceans filled with saltwater.
Then Tanique said, “Contained. The saltwater is contained.” He frowned. “Old concrete and saltwater.”
That immediately narrowed the focus but it still cast a wide net. Somewhere out there, there was a saltwater pool or reservoir where Leila had been taken either so she could swim and regain her muscle tone, or where she was being trained for an operation.
“Anything else?” Miane asked. “Even the smallest crumb could help us narrow down the search area.”
Tanique rubbed his temple. “It doesn’t make sense, but I did catch an image of a feline of some kind.” He lifted his hands instinctively above his head, cupping them in the shape of ears before he seemed to realize what he was doing and dropped them. “Its ears stood straight up and they had black tufts on the tops.”
“Could one of them be a changeling?”
Vasic had pulled out his palm-sized organizer and was scrolling through images of felines as Miane asked that question.
“I don’t know,” Tanique said. “It was a very faint impression, could even have been from a feline incursion into the building prior to your packmate’s captivity here.”
Vasic turned the screen of the organizer toward Tanique. “Did the feline look like this?”
“Yes. What is it?”
“A Canadian lynx.”
Miane blew out a breath. “There are multiple lynx packs across Canada, never mind the world, but at least we have a place to start.” She held out a hand toward Tanique. “Thank you. We owe you one.”
Vasic wondered if the alpha realized she’d just pledged a favor to PsyClan NightStar.
As he watched, Miane walked to the building, pressed her hand against it, and said, “We’ll find you, Leila. Don’t give up. Your pack is coming.”
PART 4
Chapter 33
MIDMORNING THE DAY after the unsuccessful attempt to rescue Leila Savea, and Dorian had tracked down the ship involved in the abduction attempt against Naya. Lucas had just authorized the plan the sentinel had put together for the capture of the ship’s captain when Devraj Santos arrived in DarkRiver territory with his wife, Katya, and a boy named Cruz.
The leader of the Forgotten had become a stronger and stronger ally over time, the relationship between DarkRiver and SnowDancer and the Forgotten such that he’d asked the packs to offer sanctuary to gifted Forgotten children and their families. That sanctuary was needed because the world had more than one mercenary individual who wanted to control the children’s unique new abilities.
Lucas had known Dev was coming, and now the two of them stood to one side of a small open area in the forest, where Naya, Keenan, and Noor were playing with Cruz. The older boy was good-natured about the younger children’s enthusiasm; nothing about him betrayed that he was a telepath of cardinal-level power, his eyes near-black with unexpected flickers of dark gold rather than night sky. Because Cruz was one of the Forgotten, not Psy.
As Lucas watched, Cruz went to say something to Sascha before he smiled and returned to the field of play. Lucas’s mate was standing with Katya and Ashaya, the three women having a quiet discussion. Dev’s wife and Ashaya had once been scientists in a lab controlled by Ming LeBon. Both had helped children even when they couldn’t fashion an escape for those children, and both had paid a price for that help. While Lucas didn’t know Katya as well as he did Ashaya, he had a soft spot for her.
Katya, in turn, had a giant one for Noor and Keenan, the bond between them formed out of bleak despair that had been transformed into incandescent joy.
His and Dev’s current conversation, however, had nothing to do with either the children, the Forgotten hidden in DarkRiver and SnowDancer, or Cruz. It involved a Forgotten teenager who Lucas had claimed as part of his pack.
“I’ve confirmed the rumors your Rats first picked up,” Dev said to him, the golden brown skin of his face all harsh lines. “There’s a bounty out on Jon. Five million to anyone who can capture him alive.”
Lucas’s claws pricked at his skin. When the Rats reported the rumor over a month earlier, he’d immediately gotten in touch with Dev. Both because the Forgotten had made it a point to infiltrate networks that might pose a threat to their people and because if someone was after Jon, it was possible he or she—or they—would also attempt to snatch other Forgotten children.
Such abduction attempts had already occurred more than once.
“Our message wasn’t an empty threat,” he said in a tone that held the panther’s harsh rage. “Anyone hurts or tries to hurt or take one of DarkRiver’s young, and they’ll die by claws and teeth.”
“You haven’t heard the best part.” Dev’s voice was both approving and amused.
Lucas went to answer, was distracted when Cruz came running over.
“I forgot my juice,” the boy said, his face hot from exertion.
Dev picked it up off the picnic blanket Sascha had brought, on which she’d placed snacks and drinks for the children. “Here you go,” he said, bumping fists with the eleven-and-a-half-year-old. “Don’t let those three”—a nod at where a ferocious and tiny black panther was pretending to bite Keenan while Noor tried to tackle him—“give you too much trouble.”
Cruz rolled his eyes after taking a drink. “They’re babies.” A put-upon sigh. “But I better play with them so they don’t get bored.”
Lucas’s lips curved as Cruz ran back to enthusiastically join in whatever game it was the three DarkRiver cubs and one Forgotten boy had thought up. “Kid’s looking much better,” he said to Dev. “Sascha says his shields are phenomenal.” Lucas’s mate was the one who’d helped create those shields, Dev having asked for her help after discovering that Cruz had no shields of his own, his mind naked to the world.
“She gave him the base.” Dev slid his hands into the pockets of his black pants. “And fuck she’s good, Lucas. The more we study Cruz’s shields, the more we realize what she built, and it’s extraordinary.”
Lucas’s panther stretched out in pride inside him. “Yes,” he agreed. “But I can tell she’s pleased with the progress he’s made on his own.” That checkup was part of the reason Dev and Katya had made this trip.
“He’s a tough kid.” The pride was Dev’s this time. “Resilient doesn’t come close to describing it.” The other man was quiet for a moment before adding, “He’s still mourning his mom and dad, but he’s not dwelling on the horrific way he was diagnosed as schizophrenic and drugged. The nightmares are all but gone.”
Lucas knew it wasn’t only Cruz’s resilience that had permitted the boy to heal; it was the fact that he was surrounded by a shield of love and fierce protectiveness. Cruz had the air of a child who knew nothing could get to him. A lot of that fell at the feet of Katya Haas and Devraj Santos. Which brought Lucas back around to the protection of the children in his care.
“The bounty,” he said. “Details?”
“I’ll send you what we have. The offer was sent directly to a number of for-hire black ops and mercenary units. The best of the best across racial lines. Whoever it is means serious business.”
Folding his arms, Lucas said, “It also means we can’t play the client by creating a fake team to take up the offer.”
Dev nodded. “We tried talking around our contact into playing the client, asked him to send in fake images of Jon bound and gagged.” A shake of his head. “He’s too terrified of the retaliation from his own team if they find out he’s been feeding us intel. They don’t know he’s Forgotten.”
“Shit.” Lucas unfolded his arms before he clawed himself. “Contact details on the offer?”
“Throwaway e-mail address. No way to trace it—and we’ve tried.”
“So what’s the good news?” This time, he had enough of a snarl in his tone that Naya’s ears pricked up, but she was soon distracted by Noor calling for her.
“No one is eager to take up the offer.”
Lucas glanced at the leader of the Forgotten, his panther looking out of his eyes in disbelief. “Five million and no one’s eager?”
“Our contact says his own group was considering it, and we have indications that two others were as well, but all of them pulled out last night.” Dev’s eyes glinted. “It was a stroke of genius to follow up your statement by leaking images of that bloody room where you executed the alpha who came after your cub.”
It wasn’t Lucas who’d leaked those photos. He hadn’t even been aware they’d been taken. It had been one of the ocelot soldiers—the female. She hadn’t done it in defiance or rebellion. No, she’d done it to make it clear to other changelings that the surviving ocelot dominants had witnessed the execution and that it had been a righteous one. Her act had been one of solidarity with her new alpha.
Despite her unauthorized actions, Lucas had to admit he liked the young ocelot. Especially when she accepted her punishment for those actions without complaining. He hadn’t hurt her, but he had put her on the worst duty shifts for six months.
