The Psy-Changeling Series, Books 6-10 (67 page)

A waiting silence.

“I don’t want you to become what he is,” she whispered, knowing that Dev had a ruthlessness in him that could turn him cruel, an assassin with a single, brutal objective. She had no doubt that he’d achieve that objective—but he might lose himself in the process. “I’m afraid that if you hunt him, it’ll change you, make you a reflection of Ming.”

He didn’t reply, and she knew that if push came to shove, Dev
would
go after Ming. And if that happened, there’d be only one choice. One she’d make without flinching. She was becoming Dev’s weakness. Excise her from existence, and that weakness would no longer exist.

Dev got
the phone call from Aubry ten minutes after they took off, the airjet set on a steady course north. Katya wasn’t officially on the passenger manifest, which meant they’d technically be smuggling her over the border if they needed to land in Canada, but Dev had ways around the problem if it came to that.

“What is it?” he asked, conscious of Katya putting on her headphones and turning up the music.

“Jack thinks you’re dicking him around—he’s pissed.”

Dev squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. “Can you keep him calm for three days?”

“He’s going to last maybe one more day—two at the most.” Aubry’s tone changed. “Dev, what he’s saying, it’s not out of his ass. He’s making sense.”

“I know Jack’s making sense.” Dev had seen Jack’s son William after the first episode, had held Jack as the other man broke down. He had a bone-deep understanding of the anguish that drove his cousin’s every action. “That’s the hell of it. Look, I’ll call him.”

“And you’ll be back in New York in three days?”

Knowing Tag and Tiara would be able to handle Cruz now that Sascha had become involved, he said, “Yeah. Set up a meeting with Jack.”

“I guess you can’t escape some things,” Aubry said as he hung up, and Dev knew he wasn’t talking about the meeting.

Coding in the number for Jack’s cell, he waited. The other man answered after a couple of seconds. “About time, Director.”

“Cut me some slack,” Dev muttered. “You’d think we weren’t related, the way you’re out to string me up.”

“Don’t pull the cousin card on me.” But his tone became less harsh. “You been avoiding me, Dev?”

“No. We’ve had some other shit hit the fan.” Thrusting a hand through his hair, he leaned back in the seat. “What you’re saying—I’m listening.”

“Good.” A pause. “Fuck, Dev, I didn’t set out to be a pain in your ass, and I sure as hell don’t want to rake up old memories, but we’ve got to deal with this.”

“There’s no way I can support what you want—you know that. Our ancestors gave up everything for our freedom. How the hell can you turn your back on that?”

“Because my
son
is so terrified of his own abilities that he’s too scared to make friends.” Jack’s torment filled the line. “He’s a baby, but he’s so afraid he’ll hurt someone that he stays in his room all day. You deal with that every day and then you tell me the choice isn’t mine to make.”

Catching the break in Jack’s voice, Dev straightened. “What aren’t you telling me? I thought Will was stable for now.” He’d believed they had time to find another answer—one that wouldn’t destroy the very heart of Forgotten identity.

“Something happened. I don’t—” A jagged breath. “I need to confirm it. But I know that Will’s getting worse.”

Dev thought of the seven-year-old boy who called him Uncle Dev, thought, too, of the others on the edge. “It’s circled back.” The strange new abilities arising in the Forgotten were bringing with them the same madnesses that had driven the Psy to Silence. “But you’ve seen how Silence isn’t the answer to everything—they’re not the example we want to follow.”

“You go cold, Dev,” Jack said. “I’ve seen you do it. You mainline the machines and you go cold. What if you couldn’t?”

Dev knew all too well what it felt like to skyrocket out of control. Especially now, with a woman who slipped beneath the metallic layer as if it didn’t exist. “I might go cold, but I stay human, Jack. I
feel
.” Too much. Too strong.

“It’s a bad choice, I know,” Jack admitted. “But if there are only bad choices . . .”

“We’ll find another way.” Dev wouldn’t lose his family, his people. “I’ve got Glen and his team on it night and day. And I’m working every contact I have—just . . . don’t make any hasty decisions. Can you give me a few more days? Can Will?” Because if the boy had gone critical, then Dev would turn the plane around. He had every faith that the woman by his side would understand.

“What’s so important that you can’t talk to me today?”

Dev glanced at Katya’s head, turned toward the window of the plane. “I’m fighting to save another life, another mind.”

Jack sucked in a breath. “Damn, you know how to sock it to a man. I’ll give you a few more days.”

“Call me the instant anything changes.” Because—and though Dev’s protective instincts screamed in violent repudiation at the thought—small, big-eyed William was their barometer, the closest to snapping the threads of his sanity. Swallowing the knot in his throat, he didn’t even make an effort to hide his own worry for Will. “You call me and I’ll come. You got that?”

A pause filled with things unsaid, and Dev knew Jack understood the brutal truth, a truth no father should have to face. “Yeah,” his cousin finally answered. “I gotta go—Melissa’s home. This is fucking messed up.” The last sentence was tired.

As Dev hung up, he felt the same. Turning, he found Katya looking at him. She took off the wireless headphones only when he slid the phone into a pocket. “I want so much to ask what’s put that look on your face,” she said, reaching out to place one hand over his.

“Katya, there’s a chance we might have to turn back.” He tightened his fingers on hers. “But if we do, I’ll bring you back. I promise you that.”

And though he knew how badly she wanted to reach her destination, she gave an immediate nod. “Your promise is more than enough for me.”

His heart expanded, until he couldn’t even remember what the metal felt like. “How secure is your mind?”

“It’s a vault. Nothing can come in or get out into the Net. But like you said, Ming must have the psychic key to open that vault—he could use it at any time.”

He understood what she was telling him, but the possible benefits outweighed the risks in this case. About to ask her what he needed to know, he frowned. “You have a nosebleed.”

Making a small sound, she lifted a hand to her nose, taking the tissue he ripped from the pack provided in the seat pockets. “It’s the altitude,” she said.

He wasn’t so sure. “How’s your head?”

“Fine.” Slipping the tissue into the disposal bag, she made a face at him. “I’ve never been a good flier. What was your question?”

Still not convinced, he made a mental note to have Glen check her out on their return. “What do you know about the genesis of Silence?”

“Aside from what’s in the public domain, I know that it’s not as effective as the Council likes to make out—the anchors, the strong Psy the Net needs to maintain itself—they’re extremely vulnerable to sociopathy.”

Dev had guessed as much. “But it is effective at a certain level?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “You know there are abilities that predispose the individual to mental illness—or ones that drive them toward such illnesses because of what they demand.”

“Go on.”

“For example, some high-Gradient telepaths have trouble building shields—it’s as if their abilities are too strong to contain and the power leaks out. With Silence, at least they have an effective barrier of emotionlessness—even if things creep in, those things don’t affect them as deeply.”

Dev considered that. “Justice Psy—they have a rep.”

“Yes. Because the J-Psy work so closely with humans, they’re more prone to breaks from Silence.”

And when Justice Psy broke, some very nasty people had a way of ending up dead. Dev didn’t necessarily think that was a bad thing, but if the highly trained J-Psy weren’t able to control their abilities, how could he expect it of a scared seven-year-old? “Is that why the Js always take breaks between cases?”

Katya nodded. “From what I know, they generally work about a month, then go back in for intensive reconditioning before being given their next case.” Her eyes lingered on his. “We all came from the same stock,” she murmured. “It’s inevitable that even in a mixed-race population, mutations and recombination in the gene pool would produce an individual closer to Psy than to human.”

He’d known she would understand—she was too smart not to. “Pretty sure the Council’s figured that out, too.”

“It’s a possibility. But there is a certain arrogance among the higher levels of the Council superstructure—the Psy have become so used to thinking themselves the most powerful people on the planet that they fail to take something as simple, and as powerful, as nature into account.” This time, her eyes were troubled. “Dev, if your people are considering what I believe—don’t.”

“You just told me that for some gifts, it’s the only choice.”

Her hand tightened around his. “But it kills something in the individual and in the group. The PsyNet . . . it’s beautiful, but it’s dying, bit by slow bit. How could it not? We give it nothing but emptiness.”

Dev understood her speaking of the Net as a living presence. The ShadowNet, too, had an entity of sorts that was its soul, its living imprint, though it was far, far younger than its counterpart in the PsyNet. “I’ve heard whispers of the NetMind.”

“There’s a DarkMind, too.” Her voice was hollow. “Ming told me—I guess he thought I wouldn’t remember, or he didn’t care. The NetMind has split in two.”

She didn’t have to say any more—if the fabric of the Net itself was being torn asunder, then how could Silence possibly be the answer? And yet . . . “There are still killers in the Net, but there are fewer.”

“Yes.” She swallowed. “I think, for a while, it did make things truly better. We were able to breathe without fear of what we might do, what might be done to us. But that soon became replaced with another kind of fear.”

“The Council.” Dev thought over the implications. “That kind of a power structure is unavoidable once you embrace Silence—it rewards the naturally emotionless, people who have little to no empathy.” The sociopaths.

“It’s a flaw in the system that we’ve become blind to.” Katya leaned her head against his shoulder. “What will you do?”

“Fight for my people.”

“The situation in
Sri Lanka has been contained.” Henry’s resonant mental voice filled the psychic vault of the Council chambers. “The anchor in question is now under constant supervision.”

“He already was,” Tatiana pointed out.

“Yes,” Shoshanna said, “but previously, he had a degree of autonomy—as we all know, the anchors are so often cardinals that it’s near impossible to monitor them without a huge waste of manpower.”

“But in this case,” Henry continued, “that manpower is warranted. I’ve got my personal guard on him, but if the Council is in agreement, I’d like a member of the Arrow Squad to join the team.”

Kaleb felt a telepathic knock on his mind. Opening the channel, he found Nikita’s voice entering his head.
They’re working together again.

He’d noticed the same thing.
Henry, however, is no longer the beta member of the pair.

If they’ve found a way to balance their egos,
Nikita commented,
they stand to become the most powerful force on the Council.

The fact that Nikita’s thoughts had followed his wasn’t unexpected—there was a reason he’d allied himself to the San Francisco-based Councilor. Her mind was her most powerful tool, and, unlike the others, she had no thoughts of taking over the Net. Nikita was only interested in her own business interests. It made her an excellent partner for a man who
was
interested in gaining control over the PsyNet itself.