Blaze of Memory p-7

by Nalini Singh

  He was amused by the way she deconstructed the whole story scene by scene precisely like the scientist she was. But she had heart, too. He caught her sighing at the end.

  He had to kiss her then, had to taste her happiness. Because it wouldn’t last. The inevitable was fast approaching, he could feel it in his bones. Thirty minutes later, they were back in the car, traveling toward something neither of them truly wanted to see. . . and yet couldn’t not see.

  “I think we need to turn right at the crossroads.”

  Not questioning her, he took the direction. The sky finally started to lighten almost three hours into the journey, streaks of pink and orange emerging in the east. But despite the burst of color the world remained desolate. The outpost they’d stayed in had been the last trace of civilization. “Have you ever seen the northern lights?” he asked, watching the car’s own lights dim automatically as the sensors picked up the sun’s stealthy creep across the sky.

  “No.” She released a breath. “I’d like to, though.”

  “You might get lucky—the timing’s right and we’re far enough north.”

  “Have you seen them?”

  “Yeah. I used to come up here to visit Michel when we were kids. When my mom was alive.” The memory ached, but it was one of the good ones. “His mom, Cindee, and my dad are brother and sister.” Cindee had wanted to raise him after his father’s incarceration, but he hadn’t been able to bear the guilt in her beautiful eyes.

  Even as a nine-year-old he’d known that if he walked into that house, she’d spend the rest of her life trying to make up for a crime that had never been her fault. It hadn’t even been his father’s, though that was a forgiveness Dev simply couldn’t find in himself. Instead, he’d gone into his nani’s spice-and-glass-scented embrace, letting her warmth melt the ice that had grown around his heart.

  “But Michel doesn’t live in Alaska now?”

  “No, he does. He’s just on a transfer to Washington State for the year. Some kind of training course.”

  “He remains a good friend,” Katya said, obviously trying to keep her tone light though her eyes were locked on the road in front of them. “He must be—to pull Jessie’s truck over because you were looking for me.”

  Dev scowled. “I still can’t believe you managed to get out of the house with three of us trained in combat there.”

  “People tend to underestimate me.” It was the first time he’d heard a hint of arrogance in her.

  He decided he liked it. “I won’t be making that mistake again. And yeah, me and Mischa, we’re close as brothers.” Cindee had made sure the cousins met, coming down to West Virginia, where Nani had her home and studio, when Dev had refused to go up to Alaska. He hadn’t been able to bear the journey without his mom.

  “Mischa?”

  “That’s what his mom’s always called him.” Dev grinned. “He’s given up trying to get anyone in the family to use his actual name most of the time.”

  “Does anyone call you Devraj?”

  “My nani—my maternal grandmother.” Without asking, he turned left.

  Katya leaned forward, her motion almost absent. “Yes.” Putting her hands on the dash, she scanned the road in front of them, but there was nothing to see—it twisted this way and that, leaving limited visibility. “What are they like, the lights?”

  “Like seeing a piece of heaven.” He grimaced at the poetic words, but they were the only ones he had. “Makes you humble, they’re so beautiful. If you don’t get to see them this time around, we’ll come up here again.”

  “I’d like that.” She gave him a strained smile. “Do you visit Michel much?”

  “Now and then.” Dev had finally returned to Alaska when Cindee was admitted to the hospital after a bad accident on the ice. His aunt’s guilt still lingered, but it had been mellowed by time, by seeing him grow up into a stable youth. These days, they could have a conversation almost untainted by the past. “He comes down sometimes, too.”

  Katya gave Dev a penetrating look, her attention momentarily caught by the amusement in his voice. “What do the two of you get up to?”

  “We used to raise hell when we were younger.” A wicked grin. “We’re more civilized these days.”

  “Somehow, I don’t quite believe you.” She thought of Dev and Michel together, darkly sexy and wickedly charming. Hmm . . . “I think I need to hear more about these civilized times.”

  “Male code of honor. No telling.”

  A shiver crept up her spine even as she went to tease him back. Whipping her head around, she spied the narrow one-lane road to the right. “There.”

  Dev was already turning, all humor gone from his face. Now he reminded her of nothing so much as a hunter, lean, hungry, and determined. She was suddenly very glad he was by her side—she didn’t know if she’d have made it this far alone. The dread in her stomach was a heavy weight, inciting nausea and a panic that told her to run, dear God, run!

  “No,” she whispered. “No more running.”

  Dev shot her a quick look before returning his attention to the road. “We’ll finish this.” It was a vow.

  Two minutes later, they came over a final, snow-covered rise and into a ghost town.

  The sun’s rays cut over the houses half buried in snow, glanced off the broken windows, the ripped and hanging signs. “How many?” she whispered almost to herself.

  “Five hundred.” Dev pointed to the severely weather-beaten—but still standing—sign to their right. “Sunshine, Alaska, population five hundred.”

  Sunshine. Every tiny hair on her body stood up. “This place is too small for five hundred.”

  “Yeah—sign’s pretty old.” Unclipping his safety belt, he looked to her. “Ready?”

  “No.” But she undid her own belt, feeling as if she was letting go of her last hope of escape. Shuddering, she shook off the chill, and when Dev came around the car, she was waiting to link hands with him and walk into Sunshine, Alaska. The sense of dread that had been chasing her for days settled into a kind of viscous miasma, at once frightening . . . and sad. That, she hadn’t expected—the sense of sorrow, so heavy it weighed down her very bones. “Where are they all?”

  Dev didn’t answer, frowning as he looked around. “We’re in the town center, but I don’t see a bar.”

  “Why’s that important?”

  “Human nature,” he muttered. “Bars are some of the first places to go up and the last to close in any small town. This far out, it’d probably be the only place people could socialize. Unless there’s a church? Could be a religious settlement.”

  She shook her head. “The buildings are all very uniform. Even the Second Reformation churches have a symbolic shape that makes them stand out.”

  They kept walking, the snow thick but manageable around their boots. She was glad she’d stuffed a woolen cap over her head before she exited the car, but Dev’s hair shone dark under the cool winter sun. “Aren’t you cold?” Reaching into his coat before he could reply, she took out his own knit cap and tugged it over his head.

  “Thanks.” It was a distracted comment as he took her hand again.

  “The buildings aren’t completely submerged,” she said, glancing around. “This place wasn’t abandoned that long ago.”

  “No,” Dev murmured. “Look at the way it’s packed on the left—there’s been a strong wind at some stage. It pushed everything that way.”

  She turned, nodded. “We can’t explore that side, not easily.” There was no question they had to get inside. “It’s so quiet here.” The absence of sound hurt her.

  “Listen to my voice, listen to our feet crushing the snow and ice. There is sound.” A reassuring squeeze of her hand.

  Nodding, she did as directed. They reached the first accessible building seconds later.

  “Let’s hope this opens inward,” Dev said, walking up to the door. “Or we’ll have to find something to dig—bingo.”

  The creak of the door he opened was loud, the
thud of their boots on the plain plascrete floor dull and echoey. Snow tunneled inside as she stood looking around. “Appears to be a supply depot.” Computronic items lay iced over in the case to the left, while tools and machinery lay in neat rows to the right. In front of her stood a stack of plas boxes stamped with a name that was vaguely familiar. “EarthTwo,” she muttered under her breath, moving with Dev as he went to look at the equipment.

  “It’s mining gear,” he told her, picking up a powerful-looking length of rope with one hand.

  “That’s it.” She pointed at the boxes. “EarthTwo is a small mining company that specializes in rare minerals. They sent things to the labs I worked in.” Excited now, she found the courage to let go of Dev’s hand and open one of the boxes. “Empty.” Even that disappointment didn’t deflate her excitement. “I didn’t imagine this—there is something here.”

  Walking over, Dev pressed a hotly real kiss to her lips. “I told you your mind was fine. You should learn to listen to me.”

  Her heart raced at the electric burst of contact. “So you can order me around?”

  “Would I do that?” He took her hand again, his grip firm. “Let’s see what else we can find. This place looks like it hasn’t been disturbed since the town was abandoned.”

  “Or before either.” She pointed to the windows, all unbroken.

  The next place they stepped into couldn’t have been more different. “It’s like a hurricane came through here,” she whispered, staring at the papers that littered the carpet, the shattered glass from the windows, and even worse, the jagged wires that sprung up from a sofa on one side of the room. Tufts of stuffing—white, disconcertingly pristine—lay scattered on the papers around it . . . almost as if someone had tried to rip the sofa apart in an insane fury.

  A touch on her lower back. “Stay here,” Dev said as he made his way to the desk.

  Listening with a corner of her mind as he went through the drawers, she bent down to pick up a few of the myriad pieces of paper floating in the room. The top one was an accounts list. “Payroll,” she said out loud. “I think this must’ve been EarthTwo’s administration office.”

  “The entire town was a mining op,” Dev said, holding up a thin paper file. “Some kind of a prospectus. Sunshine is wholly owned by EarthTwo.”

  “Strange name for a Psy town.”

  “Hmm.” Dev flicked through the file. “Here’s why—the town was founded a hundred and fifty years ago. Before Silence.”

  “There must be something very valuable in the soil around here, then,” she said. “Either something that regenerates or that people only need a little bit of. I didn’t see any evidence of heavy drilling.”

  “Could be anything under all that snow—remember the equipment.” Putting the prospectus into a pocket, he crossed back to her. “It’s going to get dark fast. We might have to spend the night.”

  She swallowed. “Why don’t we figure out what happened here first.” Her eyes lit on something she’d seen but hadn’t seen until then. “Dev, the specks of brown on these papers . . . it’s not dirt or age spots, is it?”

  He looked at the sheets in her hand. “No.” His jaw turned to rock. “That’s blood.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The papers floated to the ground in serene silence as she unclenched her fingers. “I can see it now.” There was a fine spray on the back wall, almost hidden by the way dents had been pounded into the plasboard. And the sofa. . . some of those wicked-looking metal springs were rusted. Except that wasn’t rust.

  Dev took her hand. “We need to see the rest.”

  “Wait.” Bending, she picked up one of the sheets she’d dropped. “It’s part of the command log. They must’ve printed out a hard-copy backup because of the risk of power failure.”

  “Why not keep it on the PsyNet?”

  “It takes a lot of psychic power to maintain a PsyNet vault. Some companies prefer—” Chills snaked up her spine as she realized what she held. “Dev . . .”

  Dev took the paper. “‘Major incident,’” he read out. “ ‘Request emergency assistance immediately. Repeat, request emergency assistance as soon as—’ It just ends.”

  “A vocal-to-print transcript,” she said, tapping a line of code at the top of the page. “Probably set to print out automatically.” The thought of the printers working with quiet efficiency while blood erupted around them created the most macabre of images. “It’s dated September twenty-fifth.” While she’d been with Ming, a creature he thought he’d broken. “The speaker died midtransmission.”

  “He died trying to save lives—that deserves to be remembered.” Folding the piece of paper, Dev put it in his pocket alongside the prospectus. “Let’s go.”

  She’d never wanted to do anything less. But these people, she thought, needed her to keep going. Because they’d been locked in the dark, too, the final moments of their lives erased from existence. “Yes.”

  The next building housed what appeared to be a mess hall. It was fairly neat, with only a little evidence of trouble—in the food preparation area. “Whatever happened,” Dev said, “it happened either very early in the morning or late at night.”

  “When there would’ve been only kitchen workers in here.”

  “Why a kitchen at all? I thought Psy lived on nutrition bars.”

  “That’s the norm, but our psychologists sometimes recommend a more varied diet within an otherwise isolated population—they did for the lab.” The scientists working on the Implant Protocol, a protocol designed to turn the Net into a true hive mind, had been buried under hundreds of tons of earth, in a construction Ming had rigged to blow. “Every brain needs a certain amount of stimulation.” Her eyes went to a solid steel door at the back of the room. “The cooler.” Cold silvered into her very bones.

  “I’ll do this.”

  “No.” Ripping off a glove, she tangled her fingers with his. “Together.”

  A pause where she could literally see him fighting his instincts, his face all brutal angles. “These are my nightmares,” she said. “I need to see if they’re real.”

  Finally, he nodded and they walked to the cooler, the door growing monstrously larger with each step. “There’s nothing on the surface,” she said in relief. No blood, no scratches, no dents.

  Reaching forward with his free hand, Dev twisted and pulled.

  Icy mist whispered out, making Katya take a startled step back. Telling herself to stop being a coward, she returned to Dev’s side. “Shouldn’t the light come on automatically?”

  Even as she spoke, something flickered and sparked and an instant later, a cool blue glow filled the space, illuminating the horror within. “Oh, God.” She couldn’t get her eyes off the bloody palm print in the very back, a palm print that streaked down over the wall and across the floor until it ended in a pile of blood. “She was trying to get away”—because the print was too small to be that of a man, and her mind simply couldn’t accept a child in this madness—“and he dragged her back, killed her.”

  “More than one.” Dev’s tone was a blade. “Someone threw bodies in here.” He pointed to the other concentrations of frozen blood. “No one else struggled. They had to have been dead by then.”

  “The entire kitchen staff.” She turned, able to see it now. “Whoever it was came in and managed to kill them off one by one. The woman alone figured it out, tried to escape.”

  “Yeah.” Stepping back, he closed the door.

  “Where are the bodies?” Her mind jerked from one wall to the next, trying to make sense of an evil that defied understanding. “You don’t think they’re outside, beneath the snow?”

  Dev shook his head. “I’m guessing EarthTwo sent in a cleanup crew.”

  Neither of them said anything more until they’d walked through the remaining buildings they could access. One was a gym, and it was pristine. The next five buildings had clearly been dormitory facilities. Shattered objects, broken windows, blood and chaos reigned here, most of it concentr
ated around the beds.

  “Night,” she whispered. “They were asleep. That’s the only way anyone could’ve gotten so many of them—there had to be telepaths in the group. They’d have warned the others if they’d been awake.”

  “Unless . . .”

  She looked up from her contemplation of a bunk bed that seemed to have been snapped in half. “Unless?”

  “Unless we’re talking about more than one killer.”

  A wave of darkness, a crackle of memory, and the flood-gates opened.

  “There’s been a major incident, sir.”

  “Details?” That voice, Ming’s voice.

  A pause. “The female?”

  “She hasn’t got enough mind left to understand. Tell me the details.”

  “EarthTwo received a telepathic and electronic Mayday from its operation in Sunshine, Alaska, approximately two hours ago. The management asked for Council help, as such assistance is a negotiated part of their contract with us. We were able to mobilize a small Tk unit and teleport to the location.”

  “How many dead?”

  “One hundred and twenty.” The speaker could’ve been talking about stocks and bonds, so calm was his tone of voice. “The population numbered one hundred and fifty. Three were seriously injured, while six managed to find hiding places.”

  “That leaves twenty-one.”

  “Yes, sir. It appears various members of the team broke Silence at approximately the same time, though not in a central location. They attacked each other and the nonfragmented members of the expedition. Of the twenty-one who survived the initial incident, ten died attempting to attack the Tk team, while eleven were neutralized and put into involuntary comas.”

  “Sunshine?”

  “An isolated outpost. We can send in a team to clean up the immediate mess, but we’d have to take a significant number of Tks off higher-priority tasks in order to fully erase the settlement.”

  “Viability of the work without telekinetics?”

  “There’s always a risk of detection with flying in—the op may attract unwanted attention.”