Slave to Sensation (37 page)

Letting Lucas's heartbeat soothe her, she opened her mind's eye. She was still behind her shields, still protected. If she wanted, she could pull back without betraying anything.

Brenna's screams reverberated in her mind.

No, she could never pull back. First, she checked that the truth of her healing, rainbow-bright mind was hidden deep. Then she manufactured a flaw in her shields, something that looked natural. In a way, her plan was blindingly simple . . .
if
you were a cardinal E-Psy forced into becoming a genius of multilayered shields, and
if
you were able to link with and so easily mimic changeling minds.

She'd realized sometime last night that her ability to touch changeling minds was part of her gift, because the nature of empathy made it impossible for one to turn evil and do harm to an open mind. When they'd crushed the development of empaths, the Psy had destroyed the growth of their conscience.

“This one's for us,” she said within her soul. It was for all those E-Psy who'd died tortured deaths in the transitional phase, all those who'd gone insane under Silence, and all those who'd buried their gifts so deep they thought they were broken.

After a lifetime of feeling as if she'd failed at being Psy, she was winning at being everything she was capable of being. And if the changelings alone ever knew of her victory, then that was good enough for her. More than good enough. Because they
remembered
. Unlike the Psy, they didn't systematically erase those who didn't “fit.”

Using the flaw she'd created, she allowed vague tendrils of her Lucas-influenced thought patterns to filter through. She shaped the outgoing whispers based on Rina's mind. Rebellious, headstrong, loyal, independent, and sensual, these were the traits of the women the killer had taken. The altered blend of her psychic signature was very carefully tailored to appeal to him.

Most Psy would have no idea what was unusual about it. Some might notice but they'd see her cardinal star and put it down to some odd talent. Only a Psy who'd ripped open a changeling mind would recognize this scent for what it was.

Sascha refused to let herself think about failure. She had to trust in fate and the killer's hunger for this particular breed of prey.

As the thought patterns filtered through, she slipped out a hidden doorway built into her outer shield and into the starry night of the PsyNet. It was the same trick she used while ghosting. But this was even more dangerous.

Today, her mind was trapped inside her shields, because it needed to maintain the contact with Lucas and feed the false illusion. When she went ghosting, she left behind an illusion mind, while her consciousness, her self, traveled the Net. In a sense, she split herself into body and mind.

A variation on the same thing occurred when she “met” someone on the PsyNet. Because she usually needed to continue functioning on the physical level, she sent out a roaming piece of herself. For the time it was on the Net, that piece acted as a separate individual apart from her, almost as if she'd copied herself. There was vulnerability there on account of the underlying connection to her inner mind, but it was so low most Psy never worried about it.

The part of her on the outside today was connected directly to the core of her mind. She couldn't use a roaming piece of herself because the NetMind would pick it up and so would other Psy. To create the illusion that she wasn't in the Net at all, she had to be outside but fully connected to the core. However, if someone took control of her here, they'd have unhindered access to her brain—mind control on the most intimate level.

However, she couldn't worry about that possibility—she had too much else choking up her throat. Already, the currents of the Net were spreading her bait. All she had to do was wait and watch. Hidden against her own mind, her presence was almost impossible to detect. This was such a dangerous maneuver that most Psy would never think to look for it, but she had to be outside her shields to see the killer's mental face.

Even if she didn't recognize him, she'd have enough to ID him from the PsyNet databases. So long as the rainbow of her true mind stayed hidden, she'd be able to use the resources of the Net.

Two curious high-Gradient minds passed close by but didn't stop. She heard parts of their conversation, which they weren't bothering to shield. The word “cardinal” featured prominently. The flaw she'd created was unique but not so overwhelmingly a bad fit that normal Psy would question it. She'd counted on their arrogance, which led them to think changelings harmless and thus not worth studying as you would an enemy.

Her nerves relaxed a fraction at the small success. The temptation to go back and wipe away her shields until she could touch Lucas's mind in a psychic kiss was almost overwhelming. She needed touch and she knew her lover wouldn't mind the caress despite his independent nature.

He belonged to her as much as she belonged to him.

However, to expose him that way would be sheer selfishness. An intruding Psy could harm him through her if her shields cracked. And Lucas couldn't die. She wouldn't allow it.

Something pinged on her outermost shields, which weren't actually shields but warning beacons, one of her secret creations. Excitement mounting, she watched. Oh hell! Why hadn't she realized that she'd inevitably draw this one mind?

Sascha
.

Mother. I'm sorry I haven't responded to your call—I've been very busy.
She answered using the mental pathways of telepathy, as if she wasn't actually present on the Net. Hopefully, her mother was too preoccupied by the hunt for the killer and the Laurens' distraction to quiz her about exactly what she'd been up to.

Of course Nikita would worry about viruses.
Thank you.

Fear and betrayal gripped Sascha around the throat. Nikita had to know what was wrong with her daughter, had to have seen her before she'd been old enough to conceal her mind. Yet she was giving advice that could lead to Sascha's exposure. Did she suspect how far her offspring had gone from the accepted Psy path?

Are you sure that's necessary?
she asked.
It appears to be a minor problem.

As the head of the Duncan household, I received a notice from Medical noting your lack of physical examinations since you reached adulthood.
Nikita's tone didn't change but Sascha thought she heard a thread of warning.
It might be politic to get a scan done before they pull you up for a random check.

Her relief was almost crushing. Whatever else she might be doing, at least Nikita wasn't trying to serve her daughter up to the authorities. It wasn't much but it was something.
I'll do it as soon as possible.

You haven't reported on the DarkRiver project for a couple of—
She paused.
I have to go. Something's just gone wrong with two of the main information relay points. Things are already becoming gridlocked.
With that, Nikita's mind was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

Sascha felt the information backing up on the Net and breathed a sigh of relief. Sienna and Judd had come through. Every Psy surfing the Net in this location would be streaming toward those points, looking to fix the damage before it cascaded into chaos.

Likely, they'd already fixed it, but the backlog would take hours to clear. In the tumult, her odd signature would hopefully gain no real attention . . . except from one very dangerous Psy.

These things were thought by the hidden part of her that was a fountaining rainbow inside unbreakable walls. Outside those walls, she was cool and remote, protecting herself from disclosure even when most people, including Psy, would've considered themselves safe.

A whisper of violence swept by her. Every one of her senses screamed and she felt the rough edge of a growl in the back of her throat. Lucas's personality was alpha, too strong. It shouldn't have been coming through this clearly but it was and she had to use it. Thinking quickly, she merged the anger into the tendrils of thought going out into the Net. These women would have the capacity for anger. Anger was a kind of passion.

Her race had tried to delete anger, rage, hate, but they hadn't understood that anger could spring from deep love, the most complete need to protect. Lucas was furious because she was putting herself at risk, enraged at the thought of her being hurt. There was nothing evil about those emotions. They were so pure they burned.

Unlike the emotions now coming slowly closer. This violence was sly, cunning in the way of jackals or vultures. Most Psy probably never understood why this outwardly “normal” mind made them slightly uncomfortable, because most Psy no longer had the ability to recognize evil, even if it stood right in front of them. What a perfect hiding ground for a killer, Sascha realized.

The scent of rotting malevolence abruptly stopped approaching and then disappeared altogether. She frowned. Had the murderer been scared off? A second later, she felt another familiar presence and almost cursed. Enrique's cardinal blaze was obvious a mile away. No wonder the killer had run.

She wanted to scream in frustration. Something deep within her flexed its claws and it felt good. Right at that instant, she itched to tear into Enrique's interfering arrogance, arrogance that might cost Brenna her life.

He didn't contact her when he reached her, not seeing her presence on the Net. Instead, he examined the manufactured flaw with the utmost care. Sascha wondered whether he even understood what he was looking at.

She'd have suspected him for the murderer, except that she knew there was no emotion in Enrique. None. Even for the Psy, he was the coldest creature she'd ever met. Nothing in her empathy reacted to him. That, she realized at last, was why he'd constantly rubbed her raw.

Her mother was cold, but Sascha's senses had always picked up a low-level emotional feedback from her, as they did from other Psy. Her race might've buried their emotions but they were there. In Enrique's case, there was nothing to indicate he'd ever had the capacity to feel.

“Sascha.” A polite telepathic page.

She became the mask. “Sir.”

“Your shield is fractured.”

“Thank you, sir. I've already begun repairing it. It isn't anything major.” So why had the Councilor bothered to tell her about it? Her mother, she could understand. Nikita had a vested interest in ensuring Sascha's secret never got out—it would undermine her own position.

Which made Sascha wonder why she'd been allowed to live in the first place. Wouldn't it have been simpler to terminate her once it had been discovered that she was flawed? Or were not even the Psy capable of killing their young? Then she remembered Marlee and Toby and that hope collapsed.

“You have some very unusual thought patterns.”

“Some of my
talents are rather unusual, sir.” That told him nothing. Her hidden talents could include a degree of foresight she didn't want competitors to know about or a hundred other things.

“I always knew you were an interesting woman, but I never guessed you were so perfect.”

In the dark velvet night of the PsyNet, Sascha felt shivers crawl along her nerves.
Perfect.
What was she perfect for? “A high compliment.” She couldn't move. Enrique's power was everywhere—he'd surrounded her as stealthily as a hunting leopard.

“I thought you were like me,” he said, his tone shifting to something so polite it was a mockery. “But you're something else altogether.”

If she hadn't intended to drop out of the Net, she would've panicked at the way his shields had spread to encompass her star. Because this was a trap. Nikita had taught her this variation long ago. Sometimes it paid to have a mother whose power lay in murder and poison.

Enrique believed her to be telepathing. Once he'd finished encircling her star, he'd lure her out into the PsyNet. The instant she emerged, he'd lock a shield around the partial “self ” she'd send out to meet with him. For the first milliseconds after a Psy manifested on the psychic plane, he or she was vulnerable. It took that long for the mobile firewalls to rise. Almost no one had the power to spring a trap in that infinitesimal amount of time.

However, Enrique was no ordinary Psy—he could possibly pull it off. If he succeeded, he'd cut off the roaming part of her psyche from the rest. A successful capture was one of the more brutal ways to paralyze the physical body of a Psy. If the paralysis was maintained too long, the underlying connection between self and mind snapped, the two parts of the psyche unable to survive the separation.

The result was death and the absorption of that roaming part of the victim's consciousness into the vastness of the PsyNet. Some theorized that that was how the NetMind had begun—with the lost minds of Psy who'd been am-bushed or otherwise lost in the dark skies of the Net.

“I'm not sure what you mean, sir.”

“I think it's time we discussed this, Sascha.” He was everywhere. Cold and focused like the finest of lasers.

“I'm in a meeting.”

“Cancel it.” The walls around her began to constrict.

“Mother has given me instructions to close this deal.” This was bad, very bad. What she couldn't understand was why Enrique was coming after her.

There was nothing overtly “wrong” about the patterns she was leaking. The traces were both very faint and came from a deep part of the changeling consciousness that Psy couldn't usually access, not without ripping open minds. Only a Psy who'd done that would understand what it was that he was seeing.