“On the contrary.” Shoshanna entered the conversation. “I’m beginning to hear whispers in the Net that say the incidents are a result of the
breakdown
of Silence.”
“Surely that’s to our advantage?” Tatiana, the second-youngest member of the Council and the most unknown.
Kaleb had spent considerable time and effort trying to track down Tatiana’s history, but the other Councilor was smart. She’d covered her tracks from the beginning. Everyone knew she’d killed the Councilor whose place she’d taken, but she’d done it with such calculated coldness that no one would ever be able to prove anything. Kaleb didn’t care about proving the charge. What mattered was knowing her weaknesses. Currently, she had none.
“No,” he said now. “It may seem that way, but this individual is acting outside Council authority. He’s challenging our control of the Net.”
“Kaleb is right,” Nikita said, backing him as per their agreement. That agreement was fluid, but for the time being, their aims coincided.
“We can, however,” Tatiana pointed out, “take the idea and utilize it on a much larger scale.”
“That’s an option,” Ming said, “but I’d vote against it.”
“Your reasoning?” Shoshanna.
“Such open degradation may cause the populace to cling to Silence, but it will also have a flow-on effect. The more violence, the more ripples in the Net.”
“A continuous feedback loop,” Kaleb said, seeing the truth of it. The PsyNet was a closed system—what went in didn’t dissipate except into the Net itself. The more violence done by Psy, the more the Net would echo with violence. “Using such methods to maintain Silence will, in the end, fragment the pillars of it even further. It’s already happening—we’ve had a fifteen percent rise in acts of interpersonal violence in the last week alone.”
“Correct.” Ming said nothing further.
Tatiana was the next to speak. “I see your point, Ming. But it seems to me that we’ve lost considerable control over the past five years. Perhaps we should reconsider Henry’s suggestion of mass rehabilitations.”
“We’ve been over this,” Nikita said. “We come down too hard, and the rebels might succeed in turning the populace.”
“Working in the shadows is our specialty,” Tatiana responded. “Surely we can eliminate the troublemakers faster than we’ve been doing to date.”
“There is an alternative.” Nikita.
Everyone waited.
“We open the Center for voluntary reconditioning.” She paused, as if to ensure they were paying attention. “Silence suppresses all emotion, but everyone in this vault knows that some primal instincts are difficult to completely eliminate. Such as the instinct to survive.”
No one argued with her.
“Right now, there are millions in the Net who’re starting to feel the pressure of recent events. These individuals will cling to Silence, to that which is known, if given the choice. We offer them that choice.”
“And plant compulsions when they come in?” Henry asked.
“Not necessary.” Ming evidently saw where Nikita was going. “The more people who get themselves reconditioned, the calmer the Net. And the calmer the Net, the less the rebels have to work with.”
“We won’t get that many,” Shoshanna said. “People try to avoid the Center.”
“You’d be surprised.” Tatiana’s voice. “Deep down, past Silence, past every line of conditioning, every barrier, our race fears the monsters within. They’ll come.”
And Kaleb knew she was right.
Mercy had surprised him, Riley thought as he exited his room the next morning. He’d expected an inquisition, and gotten a caress. “Cat,” he whispered under his breath.
“Riley!” It was Indigo’s voice.
He turned to wait for her, Mercy’s words whispering through his mind. He hadn’t lied. He respected Indigo a hell of a lot. She was one of the top-ranking people in SnowDancer—there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t trust her to handle. It irritated him that Mercy had questioned that trust. What irritated him more was that she’d made him question his personal preferences—was it so wrong to wish for a mate who’d stay at home rather than be out there facing God-knows-what?
Safe, he thought, a maternal female would be
safe
, protected within the domestic sphere that was her domain.
Unlike Brenna. Unlike his mother.
“What is it?” he asked, shutting the lid on those memories.
Indigo put her hands on her hips, namesake eyes bright with intelligence, black hair pulled back in a high ponytail. It reminded him of how Mercy did her hair. Both women were no fuss, no mess. But only one drew him with an intensity that was a claw in his gut, a fist around his throat.
Mercy would never play it safe, never allow him to shield her.
“Where were you yesterday?” Indigo asked, nostrils flaring as she tried to guess.
He wasn’t worried. Because Mercy wasn’t bound to him in any way, her scent wasn’t embedded in his skin. As his wasn’t on hers. Which meant no one knew of his claim—including the two South American sentinels who continued to sniff around her. His hand fisted.
“Checking on the bears,” he answered, forcing himself to release that fist. “Were you trying to reach me?”
“Yeah—Rats say Alliance mercenaries are moving in the city. No specifics yet.”
“Then the surveillance isn’t having an effect.”
“Wouldn’t say that—they’re having to dodge us to do anything. That’s got to be hurting.”
“Let’s hope it hurts enough that they pack up and get out.” He glimpsed a small, cardinal-eyed boy walking up the corridor. “Hello, Toby.”
Judd Lauren’s nephew gave him a sweet, shy smile, one that made him want to smile in return. The kid had that effect on people. “Hi, Riley. Hi, Indigo.”
“Hi, kiddo.” Indigo ruffled his hair.
Toby bore the indignity in silence. “I’m going to wait for Sascha.”
“Sascha’s coming up?” Indigo asked, one hand on the boy’s shoulder.
Toby nodded. “She’s gonna help me with some stuff.” He tapped the side of his head to indicate that “stuff” was mental, probably an aspect of his psychic abilities.
“Go on,” Riley said. “You don’t want to be late.”
Toby smiled again. “Okay.” But before he left, he reached into his pocket and pulled out something wrapped in brown paper. “This is for you.” He put it in Riley’s surprised hand and ran off before Riley could ask him what it was.
“Hey,” Indigo said, voice amused, “I don’t rate a present.”
“I’m his uncle.” The relationship was through Brenna’s mate, Judd, but Riley didn’t stand on such restrictions much. “I wonder what it is.”
“Open it.” Indigo made no move to leave.
“Ever heard of privacy?”
“No.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “You’ve been hanging out with Mercy.”
“We talk some,” she admitted. “It’s . . . not hard, but different, being a powerful female among this many men.”
He looked up in surprise. “But you’re not alone. We’ve got Jem—”
“Yeah, she’s a lieutenant but posted out way over in the L.A. region,” Indigo said. “Mercy’s the only one nearby who understands these things.”
“What things?”
“Well, if you could understand them,” she said with exaggerated patience, “I wouldn’t be talking to a cat, would I?”
He didn’t back down. They didn’t call him the Wall for nothing. “Do you think the pack’s leadership structure is unbalanced?” Changelings weren’t human or Psy. Female dominants were an expected part of the pack. But now that Indigo had pointed it out, he realized that of the ten SnowDancer lieutenants, only two were female.
“Nah.” She waved her hand. “It just turned out that way this generation. Remember—when your mom was lieutenant, it was six-four in favor of the females.”
It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that someone had mentioned his mother. If he’d been the superstitious type, it might’ve concerned him. But he wasn’t. And it didn’t. “True,” he said, and unwrapped the package.
“Oooh.” Indigo picked up the tiny, interlocking wooden puzzle and ran her fingers over it. “This work is too smooth for a child.”
“Walker probably helped him.” Judd’s brother was very good with his hands, something that seemed to surprise him as much as anyone. “It’s a wolf.”
Indigo gave it back to him. “Yeah, stylized but discernible.”
Riley played with the pieces, thinking Mercy would probably enjoy this. He’d jumble it up and give it to her, just to see the look of feline concentration on her face.
A hand waved in front of his eyes. “Earth to Riley.”
“What?”
“I asked how come you got a present.” She looked suspicious of his lapse in focus.
He thought about it. “I’ve been spending a bit of time with him, teaching him tracking, things like that.”
“You’re good at that.”
“What?”
“Being a big brother.” A smile. “And uncle now. Brenna and Drew are lucky to have you.”
As she walked away, he wondered if his siblings thought that. Raising them, with the pack’s help of course, wasn’t anything he’d ever resented—he was who he was. Solid. Rooted in earth. But now he wondered—was he too solid, too practical, to continue to captivate a woman as wild and as bright as Mercy?
And why, if he was set on finding a maternal female for a mate, did it matter that he be fascinating enough to enchant a sentinel?
CHAPTER 28
Entering the White Zone, Sascha waved off her escort—Dezi and Vaughn—and walked over to take a seat on the ground in front of Toby. He’d chosen a peaceful spot where the little ones wouldn’t disturb them but which kept him from breaking the rules about venturing too far. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hi.” A bright smile that showcased a truly gentle soul.
It was a miracle, that smile. Toby had been a shocked, too-quiet child when she’d first met him. Now he could’ve been any child in either pack, with as much mischief in his heart as laughter. But, she thought, he was a little more sensitive than even the healers. “How about we start with you telling me how things have been going?”
“Well, the rainbows are stronger.”
The “rainbows” were pieces of color that floated in the dark spaces within a neural network. The PsyNet had no such rainbows. The Web of Stars had had it from Sascha’s first glimpse—because those rainbows were the psychic emanations of an E-Psy, an empath. Sascha didn’t consciously create those emanations—they were simply part of who she was. But in the PsyNet, that truth had been buried under a thousand shields.
As had Toby’s.
The boy wasn’t an E-Psy. His main ability was a variant form of telepathy, but he had enough E in him to affect the LaurenNet. “Do you think it’ll get any stronger?” She had a theory—that if the LaurenNet had had a powerful E-Psy in its midst, Toby’s latent ability would have remained that way. But because the LaurenNet was without its own empath, need had compelled the strengthening of muscles that might otherwise have lain dormant.
The boy frowned in thought, easy in showing emotion. His face was a masculine version of his sister, Sienna’s, intense and compelling. “I’m not sure,” he said at last, “but I don’t think so. It feels . . . finished now.”
“That’s what I think, too.” She touched his hand, and their fingers intertwined. “Have you been feeling people’s emotions?”
A nod. “It’s not all the time now—the shields you showed me work good.”
“Excellent.” She’d had to learn her skills rough. There were no other E-Psy—no
free
E-Psy—around to teach her. With the recent discovery of the Forgotten, the descendants of the large rebel contingent that had dropped from the PsyNet a hundred years ago, she’d hoped for more knowledge, but the Forgotten had evolved in different ways, their blood-lines enriched with human and changeling blood. They’d been able to give her some help, but not much.
It had been disappointing, but not catastrophic—she’d been well on her feet by then. Her shielding skills had always been excellent, even in the PsyNet, so she’d had a good base to work from. One thing she’d learned since mating with Lucas was that she didn’t always have to leave herself open to the emotions of others—it was draining, and more than that, it invaded their privacy. But there were some things an E-Psy couldn’t control. “Are you still picking up on people’s emotional resonance?”
“Like sort of knowing what they’re feeling without trying?”
“Yes.” It was second nature to her, as effortless and as unstoppable as breathing.
Toby nodded. “But it doesn’t hurt or anything. It’s normal.”
“That’s exactly it—being aware of others’ emotional states is normal for us.” No one, she thought fiercely, remembering her own childhood, would tell this bright, beautiful boy that he was
flawed
. No one would crush his smile. Sascha would make sure of it. “It’s like the wolves can scent where people have been, or who they’ve touched.”
“I saw Riley before I met you,” Toby volunteered.
“You did?”
“He was sad.” Quiet words. “Not crying-sad, but deep-inside-sad. Old-sad.”
Sascha understood in a way most people wouldn’t have. “Like the sadness is buried so deep, he might not even know it’s there?”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Was that . . . unethical?” He said the last word with frowning concentration. “That I knew that about him?”
“Well,” Sascha said, “it depends on how you found out. Did you use your abilities consciously, or did you just know?”
“I just knew.” A definitive nod. “Like I know when Sienna’s grumpy, and Marlee’s happy.”
“Then I see no reason for worry.” Smiling, she brushed his hair off his forehead, the gesture more of affection than necessity. “Now, shall we practice your shielding?”
Riley was heading into his office to clear the decks when he heard the strangest thing. Sienna was speaking to Hawke in his office, and since the door was open, he could hear everything. That wasn’t the strange part. The strange part was that Sienna was being
polite
to their alpha.