Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

“Would you like me to see what I can dig up on Shoshanna and Ming?”

“Yes. It’s always better to be armed before heading into battle.”

That, too, was why Kaleb fit into the Mercant family: he wasn’t only powerful but mercilessly intelligent. “I’ll begin now.” Before leaving, she said, “Has there been an update on Nikita’s condition?”

Kaleb shook his head. “She remains in surgery. Tell Ena the Net may undergo a power shift if Nikita dies—and if the position does open up, there’s no one better placed to step in.”

“I agree, but grandmother doesn’t like the spotlight, and I believe she appreciates Nikita.” Silver had always thought it was because the two women were both at peace with their ruthless natures, and both as viciously loyal to their young. “I will, however, pass on the information.” The Net was already in turmoil after the shooting—Nikita’s death would disrupt things on the meta-level.

If the worst happened, the Mercants would make sure they were ready to ride the storm tides.

•   •   •

HAVING raced to San Francisco from Yosemite with Lucas at the wheel, Sascha ran into the hospital wing to find security blocking her way. They moved aside the instant they recognized her, and when she pushed through the doors with Lucas by her side, she saw Sophia Russo walking toward her. “Sophie,” she said to the woman who’d become Nikita’s right hand despite the fact that the ex J-Psy was in no way Silent.

Thanks to Sophia’s husband Max’s friendship with a member of DarkRiver, Sascha had come to know Sophia well, and to like her even more. This time, she’d thought, her mother had chosen someone both strong and loyal.

“The surgeons have the bleeding under control,” Sophia told her, coming forward to take Sascha’s hands in her own. Fine black gloves covered her skin to negate the possibility of skin contact, Sophia’s shields problematic as a result of the work she’d done scanning the minds of the vilest criminals. “They’re hopeful.”

Sascha held those words to her heart. “I never imagined I’d be here,” she said to her mate when Sophia went to get a glass of water. “I never thought my mother could get hurt, she’s so strong and ruthless.”

It wasn’t until some time after her defection from the PsyNet that Sascha had begun to understand that Nikita wasn’t as one-dimensional in her pursuit of power as Sascha had once believed. This past year, she’d consciously looked at Nikita’s history and realized that, while her mother had always liked power, she’d gone into hyperdrive twenty-nine and a half years ago.

After the birth of a cardinal E daughter who needed every protection her mother could provide.

It was Nikita who’d sent her the book that gave her some idea of the scope of her empathic abilities. And it was Nikita who’d made sure Sascha survived to adulthood in a world hostile to empaths. Nikita wasn’t “good,” would probably never be good, but she’d been as much of a mother to Sascha as she could be, given her own experiences and the state of the world while Sascha was growing up.

Lucas cuddled her close, his touch, his scent, the warmth of his body her own personal anchor. “One thing I know about your mom, kitten. She’s as tough as an old wolf. I figure she’s probably snarling at the surgeons right now.”

Surprised into a wet laugh, Sascha looked up when the doors opened again. She wasn’t entirely surprised to see the man on the other side. Her mother and Anthony Kyriakus had always spoken more than Nikita did with most other Psy. Sascha had never picked up a deeper emotional tie, but then, they both had titanium-strong shields. And both had come of age in Silence.

“Your mother,” Anthony said, “is she stable?”

“They’ve controlled the bleeding but she’s still in surgery.”

Not saying anything further, the head of PsyClan NightStar took a standing position not far from the doors, his hands behind his back and his patrician face set in expressionless lines. Yet Sascha was certain there was emotion within. His mere presence here confirmed it. That emotion wasn’t directed at only Nikita, either. This powerful and apparently Silent man hadn’t ever given up on his daughter, for one. Faith had left the PsyNet, but unlike Sascha, she’d never been cut off from her family unit. Anthony had kept her safe.

The same way Nikita had protected Sascha as a child. Nikita’s tactics hadn’t been maternal, hadn’t been gentle, but they had kept Sascha safe.

Don’t ever be anything but perfect, Sascha. This is the result of failure.

Nikita had taken Sascha to a rehabilitation center as a child, shown her the mindless husks of those who’d been psychically brainwiped. As a warning, it had been stark and merciless—and it had stuck. It was fear that had spurred Sascha to build intricate shields nothing could penetrate. “I love her, Lucas,” she whispered. “I think she did the best she could, given her own life experience.”

“It’s all right, kitten. You’re permitted to love her.”

“She’s not a good person.” Nikita had done terrible things, things that could never be forgiven.

Lucas’s hand curved over the side of her face and into her hair. “You can love someone while being aware of their flaws.” He shook his head, his green eyes suddenly panther-bright. “I hate that word, but it’s the only one that comes to mind.”

She knew the reason for his aversion to the word flaw. For so long, it had been used to describe Sascha—she’d used it to describe herself. “I can’t forgive her the horrible things she’s done . . . but I still love her.”