Mine to Possess (22 page)

Jonquil looked at
the fine needle marks on his arms and knew he'd gotten off easy. The wolf-eyed woman, the one he'd named Blue, had done nothing to make him scream, hadn't hurt him at all. In fact,
all
the screaming had stopped since the day of her visit.

He was too terrified to wonder what that meant.

She'd taken blood, skin, and hair samples, made him answer what felt like a thousand questions. Today he was supposed to go in for a brain scan. He had a feeling that that was what Blue was really interested in, though you wouldn't be able to tell from her or the Blonde's expressions. They were the coldest, most icy people he had ever met. He knew what they were, of course. What he didn't know was what they wanted from him.

But no way in hell was he going to let his uncertainty show. Talin had taught him better. That thought in mind, he was waiting tall and proud when they came to the door—the Blonde and an unfamiliar male. No woman with wolf blue eyes and smooth chocolate skin.

Jonquil figured he could flatten the man in a physical fight, no problem. But these people didn't fight with their bodies. They fought with their minds. He'd been on the streets long enough to have witnessed the end results for those who got on their wrong side. Like when Sal had tried to pull one over on that group that had wanted to buy him out. He'd been found with his brains leaking out his ears.

“I'm ready.” He didn't bother trying to see if they'd fall for his voice. When he spoke in a certain way, all slow and easy, people seemed to get real caught up in it, but Blue had known about it, had warned him not to try it on the others. She'd said not only would it not work, it would sign his death certificate. He had decided to believe her…for now.

The Blonde nodded. “Your cooperation has been noted.”

He wondered if that meant they would give him anesthetic when they tortured him. He opened his mouth to ask about Blue, then snapped it shut, remembering what she'd said after returning him to the cell.

I was never here. You will keep your silence on that point.

Why? Who are you to me?

The woman who caused you no pain.

True enough, he thought, very aware of the reptilian light in the male's eyes. Cold or not, that one liked hurting people. Jon's senses were screaming at him to run,
run
, RUN! But there was nowhere to run—not yet—so he followed them down the corridor.

As he walked, he decided to call the man Lizard. He had secret names for everyone, even Talin. She'd think her name was hysterical, he thought, fighting to keep up his courage in the face of the threat emanating from Lizard.

“Please enter.” The Blonde pushed open a door.

Halting a few steps inside, he frowned. “What the hell is that?” He was facing a chair but one hooked up to devices that, even to his inexperienced eyes, promised pain.

“A machine that will allow us to better understand your brain.” The door shut behind him as Lizard spoke for the first time, his voice cool…dead.

Jonquil got a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He
knew
Blue hadn't authorized this. He stared at the Blonde, a silent question in his eyes.

Her expression didn't change. “Take a seat in the chair.”

“No.” A sharp pain stabbed into his skull, making him stagger. But he didn't scream.

The Blonde glanced at Lizard. “Perhaps we should use one of the others?”

“There's only one other left. Open the screen.”

Jon clenched his head in his hands as the wall behind the chair suddenly silvered from opaque to clear. There was a little girl on the other side. She was sitting hunched into the far corner, her knees drawn up to her chest. Her eyes met his. Big, brown, filled with excruciating fear and—at seeing him—a desperate flash of hope.

“If you don't cooperate, we'll use her,” Lizard told him.

Jon decided he'd have to kill the bastard before he escaped. “Why do you think I care?”

“You're human.”

And Jon knew that this time, there would be screaming.

Teijan was waiting
for Clay above ground, looking sleek and well-groomed, a small man with a solid aura of power. “Hello, Clay.”

“Teijan.” He could still taste Talin on his lips, tart and familiar. It calmed his possessive instincts, but didn't make him any less pissed with her for refusing to get medical attention until they found the boy. “Wanted to ask—you know anything about a man being jumped around here last night?”

“The cop?” A spark of pure surprise lit Teijan's inky black eyes. “A group of my people took exception to the event.” His mouth firmed into an unforgiving line. “Most of them know about bullies. They scared off the perpetrators, called the paramedics.”

“Anyone see anything?” He knew the Rats would've disappeared Down Below before Enforcement arrived, wary of a law that often treated them like trash. Yet they had saved a cop's life, with no hope of gain for themselves. He'd make sure Max knew that.

“No.” He spread out his hands. “It was dark and they are human, with human eyes. Suyi did mention the thugs looked like hired muscle.”

Clay had expected as much. If it was a Psy behind the kidnappings, he or she wasn't anyone with access to the kind of power the Council wielded—otherwise Max would've been dead by now, his brains turned to jelly. But the fact that this was happening in Nikita Duncan's city, without her apparent involvement—Nikita didn't need to hire ineffectual human thugs—made him wonder exactly how bad things had gotten in the PsyNet. “So,” he looked to Teijan, “why the call?”

“The boy,” Teijan said, “one of the children is adamant she saw him disappear off the street.”

His leopard sat up in interest. “She saw him get snatched?”

“No, she saw him disappear.” Teijan made a flicking notion with his fine-boned hand. “Poof. Like magic. Her words.”

Everything in Clay stilled. It didn't make sense—if the kidnapper was a teleportation-capable telekinetic, he or she would have had no need to hire humans to do the dirty work. Tk-Psy that strong could crush a human body with little effort.

“We didn't believe her at first.” Teijan frowned. “But then I realized why the picture of the boy disturbs me and mine so much.”

“Why?”

“He's not human. He's not changeling. He's not Psy. He's more
other
than anyone I've ever before met.”

Talin could barely
grasp the enormity of what she was reading. Dev might not have told her the truth, but he'd given her what she needed to find that truth herself.

She was standing there stunned when the door opened and Clay walked in. “You're not going to believe this,” she said, tugging him to the table.

“Try me.” The edge in his tone scraped over her spine like a fine nail.

She glanced up, belatedly noticing the furious expression on his face. It was obvious it wasn't directed at her. “What's the matter?”

“You first.” His hand closed around her ponytail and he stroked the length through his fist. Then he did it again, top to bottom.

To her surprise, she could feel him relaxing. And that relaxed her.
Skin privileges,
she thought with an inward smile. “Alright. Here, look.” Bending over the table, very aware of him playing with her hair, she showed him the crucial pages.

“Family trees,” he murmured. “Detailed.”

She nodded. Her hair slipped out of his grasp but a second later, she felt a tug as he recaptured it. The caress was strangely soothing. “Looks like Shine went way beyond the most recent generations.”

Clay was caught by the fierce light in Talin's eyes. Her intelligence blazed hot and damned sexy. “For all of them?”

“Yes.” She grinned. “It's as if they were tracing the families, not the individual children.”

“Shine doesn't take on whole families.”

“I'm not so sure. Look.” She tapped a particular record. “One kid in this three-sibling family has Shine support, but
all three
are being monitored. The only reason the other two were left alone is because they have other scholarships.”

“That can't be the case with all of them.”

“No. But if you look carefully at the charts, you'll see that a lot of the unfunded or untraced ones are actually stepsiblings. They're following bloodlines.”

Clay stopped sliding Talin's hair through his fist, though he kept the smooth, silky stuff in his grip. “That explains a lot.”

Lines formed on her forehead. “Why do I get the feeling you already know what I'm leading up to?”

He tugged at her hair, tipping up her head. Then he kissed her. A short, fleeting brush of lips on lips that tantalized the cat, teased and tempted in a way that would eventually become dangerous. But not yet. He still had enough control to pull back. “I have suspicions, no proof.”

Her eyes were catlike in their smugness. “Look at the heads of the family trees.”

He finally released her hair so he could spread out the charts. “I'm not seeing anything obvious.”

“That's because it's not.” She picked up one particular sheet. “This is Jon's record. I was staring at it this morning when it struck me that I'd heard—read—the name Duchslaya Yurev before. He's at the top of this tree. I did a search.” She pointed to the computer built into the side of the desk. “Yurev was one of his generation's greatest minds. He's half the reason we know as much as we do about genetics.”

“Kid's full name is Jonquil Alexi Duchslaya,” Clay said, looking at the chart. “Okay, it's an ancestral name. Not unusual.”

“No, but guess what.” She traced a line on the chart. “Jonquil is Yurev's only remaining
direct
descendant.”

Excitement gripped his gut. “Was Yurev human?”

“No.” Her next words were a whisper. “He was a cardinal telepath.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

For a minute, they just stared at each other. “What about the other names?”

Her face fell. “Nothing. It's like they've been erased from the system—I only realized about Yurev because he was mentioned in an out-of-print textbook I read when I was fifteen. I was bored and it was the last physical book in the library I hadn't read.”

“Geek.”

She stuck out her tongue at him. “I guess Yurev was too famous to wipe out completely—though you know, he's not in any of the electronic textbooks, hasn't been for over half a century. Even the Internet databases have very little on him. If he was that hard to trace, I have no clue how Shine did the others.”

“Maybe,” he murmured, “they had a head start, a list to a certain point.”

“Hold on.” Tally liberated a small notebook from the confusion of paper on the table. “See on the family trees, they also have locations listed next to the names. Around two generations back, sometimes three, they start to scatter.”

“A diaspora.” Clay blew out a breath. “Yurev wasn't the only Psy.”

“No,” she said. “I can't prove it but it fits. The murdered kids were all gifted in a way that was
almost
Psy.” Her mouth fell open at the echo of Dev's words. “Dev was telling us without telling us.”

“Someone's trying to gag him, but I don't think he's happy about it.”

“You don't think we could be jumping to conclusions?”

He shoved a hand through his hair. “My instincts say we're right, but one name isn't enough to go on.”

“And,” Talin pointed out, “once, the Psy were like us. I mean they intermarried with humans and changelings. It wasn't anything weird.” Her tone became less certain. “A lot of us probably have Psy blood in our past.”

“I know for certain that Lucas does.” Turning, he leaned back against the table and wrapped an arm around her waist, delighted when she automatically put her hands on his shoulders. “We need a Psy perspective.”

He felt her body go stiff, but her response was a nod. “You're right. Here or—”

“Sascha's likely to be around.” He was male, but he wasn't stupid—no sense in aggravating Tally with Faith. The cat preened in the heat of her possessiveness. “We've got a new development deal going with a Psy corporation.”

“Psy?” Curiosity had her leaning into him. “I thought they liked to keep to their own businesses. I've heard rumors saying, you compete with the Psy, you die.”

He couldn't resist reaching out to trace the curve of her lip. She pretended to snap her teeth at him. His cock was suddenly taut with need but he resisted the urge to lay her on the table and satisfy his hunger. “DarkRiver ran a project for Nikita's mother. The profits were huge.”

“It's a big shift,” Talin murmured, her heartbeat steady under his stroking fingertips but her scent edged with the exquisite bite of arousal. Her mind might not have made the decision yet, but her body craved his. “I wonder if you guys even realize it.”

“Oh, we realize it.” Clay relaxed at the clear signs that she wasn't suffering any ill effects from that morning. “But no sense tipping off the enemy.”

“You make it sound like a war.”

“It damn well is. And these children”—he pointed to the files—“are some of the casualities.”

That shook her. “I have the feeling there's more going on here than I know.” But she wouldn't ask. He either trusted her or he didn't.

He drew her between the vee of his thighs, one hand sliding down to press over her lower back. “Are you trying to pretend to be stoic?” he asked. “It doesn't work if you tap your toe in temper.”

She glanced down and blushed. “That wasn't nice.”

A warning graze along her neck with sharp leopard teeth. “I'll tell you anything you want to know.” His unshaven jaw rasped over the skin exposed by her V-necked sweater. “But right now we have to focus on this. We'll talk about the other stuff later.” He pressed a row of kisses along that same triangle of flesh. “Freckles. I want to count them.”

“You'll lose count after the first million.” Her heart felt like it would burst from inside her chest. Did he have any idea what he meant to her? She didn't think so.

“Go get the others.” It would give her time to compose herself, to put her heart back together. “Call Faith, too.” She made a face and pulled the short hairs at his nape. “I'm not a baby. I can handle her.”

He shot her an amused look. “Very mature.”

“Shuddup. Go.”

“I can call them from here.” He proceeded to do exactly that. “Sascha will be here in about an hour. Faith's tied up with something, so you don't have to be mature.”

“Really not nice.” She began to sit back down at the table.

Clay grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door. “First, we eat.”

“But—”

“Did you have lunch?”

She considered lying but knew he'd catch her out. “No.”

“It's three o'clock.”

“Did you eat?” she countered.

His response was a grunt.

Scowling at his back, she let him tug her down the corridor and past several startled people she assumed were his packmates. “Answer my question.”

“I'm a man. You're small and weak. Different rules apply.”

“Of all the—!” she yelled. “That's it. I'm going to kill you this time.”

The woman in front of them pressed her body to the side of the corridor, computer tablet held up like a shield, eyes in danger of popping out of her head.

“Clay, I swear to God, if you don't—”

He stopped so suddenly, she almost careened into his back. Turning, he fixed her with an intimidating look. “Behave.” Cool, calm, a voice that dared her to disobey.

Her mouth fell open. “Take that back or I'm not going anywhere with you.”

“How are you going to stop me?” His smile was pure, conceited cat.

Her temper, hard to arouse, quick to blow over, but steaming hot while it was up, flared into full life. She smiled, patted his arm. “Oh, Clay darling, if you had
told
me you were feeling irritated because of your…problems, I wouldn't have made a fuss.” She knew very well the changelings around her could hear every whispered word.

“Tally.” It was a warning growl.

“I mean it must be embarrassing for you…being that you're such a big man.” Her tone implied all sorts of things. “Last night was an aberration, I'm sure. And if not, there are always the pills.”

Gasps sounded up and down the corridor.

Clay's eyes blazed hot. “I'm going to show you aberration, you brat.” He turned and glared at their audience, as if memorizing every single face.