The Psy-Changeling Collection (159 page)

“According to these readings, the brain patterns of the Forgotten are nothing like ours.”

“Yes.” Not quite the complete truth. If Larsen—now on his way to San Francisco—survived the next twenty-four hours, she would have to ensure she had enough “data” to refute his conclusions. Ashaya didn’t think she’d need her backup plan, not if Talin McKade’s friends were as lethal as they appeared.

The only problem was that Larsen had taken Ekaterina with him and Ashaya had no way to share that information with Ms. McKade—Security had cut off all access to the Internet. “Any experiments run on the Forgotten are worthless in terms of Protocol I, even had Larsen followed proper research methods.”

Ming put down the file. “Be that as it may, these experiments allowed Larsen to exterminate those Forgotten who might one day have posed a threat.”

“And who would these mythical creatures be?” She gave him another file, wondering what the line was between pragmatic unemotionalism and sociopathy. As far as she was concerned, genocide could not be justified, not by any logical reason. “None of Larsen’s test subjects had anything comparable to our abilities. They’ve interbred with the humans and changelings for too long.” Not a lie, as such. But there were things she was withholding, unexpected, powerful mutations caused by generations of intermingling.

Ming put down the file. “I could make it a condition of your … situation that you cooperate with Larsen’s research.”

The threat, to her son, caused an unknown cluster of neurons to spark to life in her brain. She was a researcher, but she didn’t know what those awakening sparks implied. Her conditioning was flawless, her shields airtight. “You could,” she responded. “But the time I spend on Larsen’s useless endeavors will slow down my own progress.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No, simple fact. I’ll accede to whatever you decide, but I don’t share power well.” She had no doubt it was a trait Ming understood.

“We can run these experiments at another lab.”

“Of course.” She could not risk disagreeing with him. “However, I would suggest you not dispose of the subjects in so public a fashion.”

Ming stilled. “Explain.”

It had been a stab in the dark, but it seemed she’d hit on something Larsen had neglected to mention. “Larsen’s method of disposal involves removing the organs, delivering a beating postmortem, and dumping the body in a major metropolitan location.”

“I believe I need to have a discussion with Larsen.”

Ashaya pushed her advantage. “I was under the impression that he had your support,” she said. “According to the security logs, he’s been using several of your officers to run interference with Enforcement. Their notes state he had authorization documents from you.”

Ming’s liquid black eyes swam. “Send a copy of those reports through to me. I don’t have time to talk to him today.” He rose. “Ashaya, it would be in your best interest to never forget that there is a difference between you and Larsen.”

She waited.

“He is nothing, a pawn. You are necessary. I would never simply kill you.”

No, she thought, he would rip open her mind, dig into her inner core … and turn her into the most compliant of puppets.

On the PsyNet,
a Council session was taking place, the second emergency session in a row. Kaleb Krychek, the newest member of the Psy Council and possibly its most dangerous, noted that Ming’s mind was the last one to appear.

“Marshall is dead.” Nikita’s pronouncement met with chill silence.

“Are you certain?” Tatiana asked.

“His remains have been formally identified. DNA cross-matched. I saw the process take place, with Shoshanna as witness.”

“Confirmed,” Shoshanna said.

No one argued after that. Shoshanna and Nikita were sworn enemies. Neither would cover for the other.

Henry Scott stirred. “Was it a changeling attack as we thought?”

“No,” Shoshanna informed her husband. “That would have been preferable.”

“It was one of us,” Nikita added. “A precision hit.”

“Any similarities to the bombing of the original Implant lab?” Tatiana asked. “It could be the same saboteur.”

“That was my first thought, too,” Nikita said. “Ming, you examined the weapon fragments.”

“The signatures are different,” Ming told them. “However, the skill and speed of the offensive makes me conclude we’re dealing with the same perpetrator. It may be that he’s working with accomplices.”

“The Ghost,” Tatiana said. “He’s fast becoming a real threat. He’s scattering our resources to the point where several of those we would rather keep chained have escaped their bonds.”

Kaleb knew she was referring to the anchors. The PsyNet needed them, but unfortunately, they had a tendency to fall victim to one of the lesser-known side effects of Silence—homicidal insanity.

“Yes,” Ming agreed. “I’ve recently come into possession of facts that suggest non-anchors, too, are now beginning to feel the effects of the disturbances in the Net. It’s feeding into weak minds, disrupting their conditioning.”

“It’s imperative we stop the Ghost before he does more damage. How did he get the bomb into Marshall’s home in the first place?” Tatiana asked.

“Unknown.” Shoshanna’s cool mental tone. “We’re tracing all visitors but no one sends up a red flag. Ming may be correct—the Ghost may be the moniker for a group, rather than an individual. Regardless, the Ghost is too good at this.”

“But,” Kaleb said, having kept his silence to that point, “he is not Council. He doesn’t have our resources. We need to start hunting in earnest.”

“Agreed.” Five voices in unison. “The Ghost must be eliminated.”

Kaleb wondered if any of the five realized they had just responded to him as if he were their leader.

CHAPTER 41

Talin had known
something was up the entire day. Clay had gone ever more silent as the hours passed, his eyes so darkly possessive she’d felt their touch to the core of her soul. God, the man made her shiver with need, all with a single hot look.

“Are you going tell me what you’ve been brooding about?” she asked the second they reached home that night.

“No.”

Sometimes, the bond they’d formed in childhood was a problem. They had none of the walls that other couples did, had been friends far too long before becoming lovers. It was a brilliant, powerful feeling she’d never give up, but honestly—“You drive me crazy sometimes!”

He took off his jacket and leaned down to kiss her. She tried to dodge it, but Clay was in the mood to show off. He held her easily in place as he melted her bones from the inside out. When she could breathe again, she scowled. “I mean it. Tell me what’s up.”

“What did you say to get Jon and Noor to stay on at Tammy’s?”

She bit her lip. “That we needed to make some additions to this place so that there would be enough room. Are you mad? I mean, I just assumed—”

He put a finger against her lips. “Jon can plug his ears when we make out. Noor’s a baby. What the hell’s she going to do—eat your chocolate?”

She wanted to be mad at him, but he made it so hard. “Jon’s not exactly … good.”

He laughed, a jaw-cracking laugh full of true humor. “Baby, I have bad covered. Leave the kid to me.” He kissed her again. “This place is a bit far out. We might have to consider moving closer to the other families.”

“Maybe later,” she said. “Right now, they need the security of knowing no one can get to them and it’s not going to get much more secure than the middle of DarkRiver land. They can study at home for a while. We’ll get a computer tutor set up.”

“Whatever you want.” He pulled her hair out of its ponytail and thrust a hand through it. “Soon as we decide what we want where, construction can begin. Two, three days and we’ll have new rooms.”

“So soon?”

“DarkRiver’s in construction and I’m the boss as far as building goes.” He grinned. “They’ll haul ass. Dorian’s already drawing up some plans.”

“Is he really an architect?”

He tapped her lightly on the bottom. “Yes, and don’t sass him. He’s threatening to throw you into the nearest body of ice-cold water.”

She stood on tiptoe, arms around his neck. “Nah. You wouldn’t let him.”

His smile turned violent in its tenderness. “No. You’re mine to protect.”

“Tell me,” she whispered, her own smile dying. “Tell me what it is you’re going to do.”

“Why do you think I’m going to do anything?”

“Because,” she swallowed, “you had that same look in your eyes the day you killed Orrin.”

Green filled her vision as those magnificent eyes grew flame-hot. “And does it terrify you now, too?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “It terrifies me to know I could lose you again because you care too much for me.” A tear streaked down her face. “I’m not worth your life.”

Clay hated seeing Tally cry,
hated
it. It wasn’t the usual male thing with female emotion. It was this deep, eviscerating pain. Reaching up, he wiped away the tears with rough strokes of his thumb. “You are worth everything!” He was angry at her for thinking so little of herself. “Baby, you need to let me do this.”

“What?”

“Keep you safe.”

“I am safe. With you.”

He shook his head. “The Psy need to understand that you’re protected. Anybody who comes after you takes their life into their hands.”

“There’s more than one,” she pleaded with him. “If you go after them, they’ll—”

“I’m not alone either.” He nuzzled at her, wanting to reassure her, to soothe her, but unable to accept her plea to let it be. He couldn’t claw out the disease inside her but he could get rid of this threat. “You’re part of a pack now. Accept what they need to give you.” What he needed to give her.

“I
adore
you,” she whispered. “If you die, I’m not going to make it.” The words were stark, her heart laid open on her sleeve.

“Then don’t ask me to sit on my hands while you stand in harm’s way,” he demanded. “I need to protect you.”

“I’m already si—”

He kissed her before she could say anything. She wasn’t sick, wasn’t dying. He refused to let her go. “We’ll talk about that later,” he told her. “Tonight, just … tell me you’ll be here when I return.” Ready to touch him no matter that he came to her with violence painted across his body.

Her face set in stubborn lines and he felt his predator’s heart stop. “You get one scratch,” she said, “
one single scratch
, on your body and you’ll be sleeping in the living room for the next month.” Her lips trembled. “Do I make myself clear?”

He smiled at the threat neither of them believed she’d carry through. “Yes, ma’am.”

* * *

Talin walked back
into Tamsyn’s by now familiar home late that night. “I’m going to head to the lair with Clay when he returns,” she told the healer, already worrying for him.

“I know.” Tamsyn smiled. “Want a glass of wine?”

“It’s late.” She unclenched her fingers, told herself he’d be fine. He would come back to her, he’d promised. He wouldn’t leave her alone again.

“I don’t think you’ll be sleeping. Neither will Sascha.”

“Sascha’s here, too?” Having come straight into the kitchen after Clay dropped her off, she hadn’t seen the other woman. She swallowed her fear, not wanting the cardinal to sense the depth of her scars. She
knew
Clay wouldn’t leave her by choice. He never had. But in some hidden part of her, she was still a shocked and bloodied eight-year-old, and that child knew that, sometimes, you weren’t given a choice. “Where is she?”

“Upstairs. Julian woke up and demanded she come cuddle him—I swear the twins can scent her a mile away.” She shook her head. “They have the most enormous crushes on her. I think they’d fight Lucas for her if he wasn’t so much bigger.”

Talin forced her mind to the present. “I can guess why.” The two women might not see it but they were very similar, both of them with the warm hearts of healers. And yet there was a strength in them that promised protection. “Jon and Noor?”

“Noor’s asleep and Jon’s keeping Kit company while he studies.” She pointed upstairs. “Second door on the left.”

Talin shook her head. “I think I’ve used up all my fuss points for the next month.”

Tammy grinned. “He’ll be okay with Kit.”

“You always seem to have people around,” Talin began, eager to know more about Clay’s world. She never wanted to hurt him as Isla had done by not acknowledging his beast, by not accepting that he was different—in a beautiful, unique way. “Do you mind?”

“Lord, no. It makes me content to care for the pack. Part of the healing gift, I suppose.” The other woman pushed a flute of pale gold wine across the counter. “That’s why the pack healer always has a big house. Somehow, their home
inevitably becomes the social center of the pack.” She picked up a bag of coffee beans.

“Are you making coffee, too?”

“Faith and Sascha don’t drink wine—Psy have an odd reaction to alcohol.”

Right then, someone knocked on the front door. “I’ll get it,” Talin offered.

When she opened it, it was to find Faith on the other side. “Oh, hi.”

“Hi.” The F-Psy smiled before turning to wave at the seemingly empty space behind her. “Vaughn,” she said in response to Talin’s bemused expression. “He and Mercy are running outside border watch tonight. Nate’s doing the inner region.”

Something clicked in Talin’s brain. “Is that why we’re all here?” She stepped aside to let Faith walk in. Everyone knew that Psy didn’t like to be touched and Faith wasn’t exactly her best friend.

“Yes.” The F-Psy put a large shopping bag on the floor beside the hall closet. “It’s easier for them to cover us this way, since they’re three short.” She hung up her coat and, leaving the bag on the floor, began to head toward the kitchen. Talin fell in beside her. It took incredible force of will not to ask the question she so desperately wanted to ask—had Faith had another vision of Clay’s future? What had she seen?

Faith stopped halfway down the hall and turned. “I owe you an apology.”

“Why?”

“Emotion is still new to me.” She shoved her hands into the pockets of her black slacks. “Sometimes I find it hard to handle.”