Shards of Hope (Psy-Changeling 14)

Krychek’s head came up at Mica’s response, the flawless physical lines of his face betraying nothing, despite the fact that he was the man who’d taken down Silence. Many people believed it was a twisted double bluff, that Krychek was holding on to his own emotionless conditioning while nudging others out of it. Those who believed the latter thought he planned to take advantage of the confusion engendered by the breakdown of a way of life that had lasted more than a hundred years.

Those people seemed to have conveniently forgotten the psychic bond that tied Krychek to Sahara Kyriakus. The man wasn’t Silent—he was just very, very, very good at showing only what he wished.

“Psy and human?” he said to Mica, his dark hair gleaming blue-black under the streetlight.

“Yes. We double-checked the genetic screen.”

That was highly unusual. Psy and humans could work together, and the Human Alliance had recently assisted in helping those of Vasic’s race control the infection that had turned so many Psy blindly murderous, but it was a fragile relationship at best. Humans had no trust in the Psy, given how often unethical Psy had used their abilities to manipulate and rape human minds. For members of the two races to work together to abduct an Arrow was so beyond the realm of what was known as to be nearly incomprehensible.

“Did the humans show signs of mind control?” Long-term control could leave physical lesions on the brain.

Mica shook his head. “It was the first thing the pathologist looked for.”

Vasic wasn’t surprised—it made no sense to use enslaved humans against a high-value target. The puppet master couldn’t know when his slaves might collapse from the strain of fighting against psychic coercion. “Any other useful data?”

Mica’s eyes met Vasic’s. Sir, should I answer aloud?

Vasic knew Mica wasn’t worried about the bystanders—they were too far away to catch anything. Did you find any signs Krychek may be involved?

No, though investigations are ongoing.

Answer aloud for now and run any sensitive data past me. The fact was, Kaleb had tentacles in every corner of the Net—he was an asset they couldn’t afford not to utilize. And so far in their alliance, the cardinal had kept his word.

“Zaira managed to telepath certain details before she was incapacitated,” the lieutenant said. “Five trained operatives working as a unit, in silence.”

That eliminated any possibility of mind control. Zaira was very experienced. If she’d described the five as a unit, they had to have been consciously cooperating. Mind control was never that smooth, especially in high-pressure situations.

Krychek rose to his feet. His telepathic voice was as cold and obsidian as his eyes when he said, There’s been nothing, not even a faint rumor, of any such Psy-human cooperation.

It appears we have an intelligent and careful enemy. One smart enough to plug all leaks and skilled enough to abduct the leader of the Arrow Squad and one of his most experienced commanders. Before today, Vasic would’ve said that was impossible.

Chapter 7

ZAIRA WOKE WITH a throbbing head and a mouth filled with cotton wool, the pillow under her head hard yet tensile. Scanning out with her mind, she gasped, the shattering pain sparking fireworks in front of her eyes.

“Zaira.” A familiar masculine voice in the pitch-dark inside what had to be a hide, Aden’s hand brushing away her hood to expose her face, his blunt-tipped fingers on her pulse. “How is your head?”

“Water first,” she said, her voice coming out a croak as she managed to sit up after bracing her hand on her pillow—which turned out to be Aden’s thigh. He was warm under her touch and she didn’t immediately break the contact. Being alone inside her head . . . it threatened to wake the feral, inhuman creature she’d once been, the one who had planned two murders and executed the plan so flawlessly that Justice had wanted to execute her.

The fact she’d been seven years old at the time had been seen not as a mitigating factor but as an aggravating one.

If the subject is capable of this level of violence at her current age, she will undoubtedly be a threat to society if allowed to grow to adulthood.

That had been the conclusion of the joint PsyMed-Justice report done on her at the time, a report she’d accessed after she was an adult. They had been right in a sense; left alone, she would’ve no doubt become even more violent and out of control. It was Arrow training that had taught her discipline . . . and Aden who had taught her that she had value beyond her ability to mete out violence.

“Here.”

Taking the water bottle from Aden in her spare hand, the fingers of her other one curling into the taut muscle of his thigh, she drank the whole bottle. “We’ll have to get more.”

“The weather’s going to make collecting water a nonissue.”

Eyes acclimated enough to the darkness that she could make him out, she saw Aden reaching inside the pack for more water. “No, not just now.” Putting down the empty bottle, she lifted her hand to touch the incision site, but he tugged it away before she could make contact.

“It’s out,” he told her after releasing her wrist. “Don’t mess with it. Your head?”

“As if there’s a live jackhammer in there.” The final sparks of the fireworks finally faded away to leave her conscious of the sound of thunderous rain outside. No wonder Aden wasn’t worried about their water supply. “How long was I out?”

“I don’t have a timepiece but I estimate three hours.”

“The chopper?”