by Nalini Singh
She blanked everyone but Canto. Working together, they unraveled the information left behind for them by anchors long turned to dust. But their legacy might yet save hundreds of thousands of lives. Because there, in the encoded data, was a plan that meant they didn’t have to move people one by one.
Fucking beautiful, Canto declared. I can see how they did it, how they encoded it so only an anchor would understand the message.
Because it’s dangerous. Anyone else who tried this would collapse the Net. She double-checked their final conclusion. We’ll need twenty hub-anchors to pull it off. Five more for backup in case anyone overloads.
I can make it happen. They’ll follow your lead.
She knew at once that was wrong. No, Canto. I might be the battle tank, but you’re the navigational star. They’ll follow you. Payal could talk people into doing as she wanted by showing them that it was the logical course of action because of her skills or contacts—but Canto could make people follow him simply by being who he was.
Charisma?
No. Something more.
Perhaps his tendency to just aggressively trust people. A man like that . . . Well, it was hard not to trust him in return. Especially once you figured out that he had no hidden agenda. He was fighting for Designation A exactly as he’d said.
“I have it,” she said into the vault, not sure how long she’d blanked the rest of the Ruling Coalition. “It can be done by a syndicate of anchors acting in concert.”
The other minds around her sparked with questions, but it was Anthony who asked the most important one. “Can you explain the process?”
“No. Your brains aren’t designed to comprehend the Substrate.”
Ouch. Canto sounded like he was laughing, the rough warmth of it firelight in her blood. I bet you no one has ever told Anthony Kyriakus his brain isn’t good enough.
It isn’t. Not for this.
“You’re asking us to take you on faith,” Nikita said. “You’re asking countless people to take you on faith.”
“You do that every day.” Payal wasn’t here to play word games. “When was the last time you thought about the anchor in your region or wondered at their political leanings?”
“Touché,” Kaleb murmured softly. “Do you? Have political affiliations?”
“As Payal Rao, CEO? Yes. As Payal Rao, anchor? No.” It was that simple, her world split in two. Both were her. “Would you like to waste time on further discussion, or shall I get this started?”
“What can we do to assist?” said a dark voice that hadn’t spoken until now—Aden Kai. “Will there be confusion or other disruption on the physical plane or on the psychic?”
Payal had to take a moment to think about that, consult with Canto, then check the vital information left by past anchors. “It’s possible,” she said at last. “All most people should feel is a headache that should pass within the hour, but a few may panic.”
We’ll need Krychek’s voice.
Payal agreed. “Kaleb, you have the loudest psychic voice in the room. We’ll need you to blast a message across that area of the PsyNet, warning people of what is to come—we don’t need cooperation, but it might stave off the panic.”
“Give me the text of the warning, and I’ll adapt it to what’ll make the populace behave as needed.”
That was why Kaleb had become a Councilor while Payal hadn’t; he understood how to manipulate people in ways she never had. Lalit had the same skill. So did the empaths—though they didn’t think of it as manipulation. Es had a tendency to gently nudge people toward certain behaviors with the full cooperation of the patient.
Jaya, for example, was teaching Payal how to modify her own behavior.
But even empaths must have their bad seeds, so the same skills could conceivably be used for evil.
“I have to leave to work on the occlusion,” she said. “Our aim is to do this within the next twenty-four hours, though that will depend on technical considerations. We have some room to maneuver, but the longer we wait, the harder it’ll be on the anchors in Delhi.”
Payal had managed to maintain to date, but it was getting more difficult with each day that passed, psychic exhaustion a constant threat on the horizon. Prabhyx and Virat were the same, while Shanta—the oldest of them—was starting to sleep fourteen hours a day as her mind and body began to overload. Payal would’ve urged Nikita to hurry if she hadn’t been aware of the intricate series of actions required to open the archive without damaging the data; Nikita had sent a copy of the process to her, so she could follow along as it progressed.
Now Payal opened her eyes on the physical plane and looked at the man who would take the next step. “Do you have it?”
He nodded. “They were brilliant, our psychic forefathers. Why did we forget?”
“Because our people like to forget things. Apparently, we believe ignoring and forgetting is as good as actually fixing problems.”
“Wish I could argue with you on that.” Scowling, he turned to the door. “I’ll contact the others. Arran and Suriana will assist, I know. We’ll leave Ager and Bjorn out of it unless we’re desperate.”
“Yes, they’ve earned their rest.” She glanced at her organizer. “Ruhi has been trying to get in touch with me. I’ll need to make a few calls to keep certain balls in the air.”
“You can do that while I gather our team.”
Payal held his eyes when he glanced back at her. “I’ll have to go back to Delhi for the occlusion.” She’d have had to return soon regardless, but she’d been hoping that her brain—calm and rested—would allow her to push things a little, give her an extra day or two before her need for the tumor medication went critical.
Yet there was no other viable choice.
They were anchors.
The first and last guard of a failing system.
This was their duty.
Canto turned right back around and moved until his chair was beside where she sat, the two of them facing in opposite directions. Reaching out to cup the back of her neck, he tugged her close for a kiss long and deep. “I’ll always be there.” Hot breath against her lips, his forehead pressed to hers. “A single thought and I’ll find a way to be by your side.”
Payal fisted her hand in his shirt. “Maintain the surveillance inside Vara.” Some might consider that a strange choice, but for Payal, it meant that in a place filled with enemies, she’d have one person on her side.
Her Mercant knight.
“A single thought, Payal.” Canto squeezed her neck. “And if I see a threat to you, I’ll take care of it.”
Payal felt no need to argue with him—she’d destroy anyone who hurt him, too. That was what it meant to be someone’s person.
Her temple pulsed softly, a whisper from the tumors growing deep in her brain.
Chapter 41
Research. Research. Research.
—Unofficial Mercant motto (per posting on family message thread)
AFTER CANTO PUT together the anchors who’d assist with the occlusion, they practiced the maneuver in the Substrate. “It’s so simple,” Canto said, his mind already working on multiple other possibilities using this technique. “Hard on my energy levels, but the merging with other anchor minds? It’s not difficult. Actually feels like I’m stretching out kinked muscles.”
Payal gave him a penetrating look. “For you,” she said precisely. “I’ve shadowed you on every merge, and I think you were born with the ability to be the nucleus for such large-scale actions.”
The nucleus.
That was exactly what it felt like, as if the other anchors were becoming part of him, part of a living cell. “What if I couldn’t do it?” he asked, his jaw clenching. “We’d have had the plan, but no one capable of putting it into play.”
Payal turned the full force of those beautiful, intelligent eyes on him, unb
linking in her focus. “Canto, do you really believe it’s a coincidence that the anchor who reached out to bring us all together is also the same anchor with the ability to be the nucleus of a large-scale action?”
“I hear sarcasm, 3K.”
“You’re imagining it.” Straight face, but he felt her amusement in the bond between them. “I’m just asking a fact-based question.” She held up a hand when he would’ve argued—regal as a queen—and said, “What set you on the course of connecting us all? Do you remember?”
“Seeing the empaths rise and gather.” A once-stifled designation that was now a powerhouse.
“Was that the trigger, or did it just help you form your thoughts?”
Canto frowned, considered it. “I had a dream,” he said softly. “I’d almost forgotten that. It was this crazy, disjointed dream that showed anchors linked together in a constellation rather than as separate stars.”
Again, the image flared vividly against the screen of his mind. Of that constellation linked by lines of energy, so vivid and strong. Far stronger than the lonely stars alone in the Substrate. “It was so broken, that dream. But that image, it stuck with me.”
“Broken like the NetMind is broken?”
He sucked in a breath, stared at her. “Fuck, it was a message.” Now that she’d dragged him to the damn water, he couldn’t help but drink. “It’s still trying to help us, even though it’s dying.” Anger knotted his spine. The NetMind was as much a part of the Net as any one of them. It was a child and it was dying of a cancer they couldn’t fix.
Payal’s hand closed over his fisted one. Opening out his fingers, he turned his hand and wove his fingers through hers. It felt natural, as if they’d always been meant to be entwined.
“How do we achieve occlusion?” she said. “Work it through with me one more time.”
His “robotic” Payal had felt his rage and was trying to help him fight it. Fuck, he was gone for her. Lifting their linked hands, he kissed the back of hers. Then he began to go step-by-step through the plan his mind had fathomed from his first glimpse of it.
It involved shrinking the PsyNet rather than cutting off a piece. In simple terms, Canto and the twenty merged hubs would become a superanchor for the duration of the occlusion, and that superanchor would haul the Substrate toward itself, bringing with it all the minds in the vicinity.
The PsyNet could exist with sparse psychic energy, the reason why it existed in the most remote regions in the world, but it could not exist with zero psychic energy. As a result, the empty sections would “collapse” inward, leaving the Net permanently smaller. “Simple.”
Payal gave him a look.
Grumbling at her, he hauled her in for a kiss. Somehow they both ended up naked on the sofa, the forest a darkness pressing against the glass of the balcony doors. Canto set his mind to do an automatic scan—no way in hell did he want to share the sight of his lover with anyone who might decide to drop by for a visit.
She sat on his lap, soft and welcoming and curious. “I did a bit of research.” Her hands doing that thing on his shoulders, that soft petting that made him turn to mush.
A slow smile spread across his face. “So did I.”
Big eyes.
A luscious kiss—then he set her beside him. She watched with a confused expression as he got into his chair, which he’d parked right next to the sofa. “The bedroom?” she asked.
“Nope.” Shifting so he faced the sofa, he engaged the brakes, then crooked a finger.
She came, retook her position on his lap. It felt so good to have her soft weight on him, to see her eyes as they touched, as they learned one another. She shivered when he nipped at her breasts. He shuddered when she scraped her nails gently down his chest. Her wet heat rubbed against his hard cock with every movement.
He ran his hands down her back, squeezed her lower cheeks. “Soft,” he murmured appreciatively, loving that softness as he loved the gentle curve of her stomach and the roundness of her thighs.
“Hard,” she whispered in return, shaping his biceps.
Payal had a thing for his arms. Canto wasn’t complaining.
Sucking at her neck, he gripped her hips to still her when she began to move faster on his cock. “Remember that research?”
Her hand in his hair, she held him to her throat. “What?”
Nipping lightly at her, he pulled back. “On the sofa.”
“Canto,” she complained.
He bit down gently on her plump lower lip. “Promise it’ll be worth it.”
Face flushed and nipples hard and inviting, she teleported herself to the sofa even though it was only a few inches. He laughed at her small display of temper and released the brakes to edge a bit closer, then engaged them again. “Impatient cat.” Putting his hands on her thighs, he tugged her forward. “Hmm, not quite right.”
He reached to her left, grabbed a couple of cushions. “Sit on these?”
A scowl. “You want me higher? I’m a Tk.” Then she levitated . . . at the perfect level to his face. “See? Now can we get back to intimate skin privileges?”
His brain short-circuited. Grabbing her under the thighs, he hauled her toward him. And put his research to good use between her thighs. Her scream was short, sharp before her body crashed to the sofa—or would have, if he hadn’t used his upper-body strength to ease her down.
Shoving the pillows under her hips to raise her to the perfect height, he went back to his pleasurable task. His research had taken him to a clinical sex manual, but there was nothing clinical about the taste of Payal on his tongue, nothing clinical about how her short, breathy screams made his cock pulse, nothing clinical at all in what it did to him to have to hold her hips tight because she was thrashing too hard in pleasure.
He knew it was pleasure because she was wide-open to him on the mental level. And right now, her brain was hazed by wave upon wave of orgasm. Turned out positive feedback worked on Canto—and made him want to wring even more pleasure out of her. He licked, he sucked, he learned the folds and softness of her body.
He even slipped his tongue into her.
“Canto!” It was a scream as her thighs clamped around his head.
Things crashed and broke. He thought it might have been the other sofa. He didn’t give a shit. Because Payal was orgasming so hard that the feedback through their link was threatening to make him come.
Lifting his head before it was too late, he hauled her back into his lap . . . and thrust into her while her body yet rippled from the final echoes of her pleasure. Wrapping her arms around his head, she pressed her face to the side of his and let him move her lax, lazy body as he wished.
To have her so limp and sated, it was all the validation he needed that he’d gotten it right. If there was a touch of desperation in the way he thrust into her, the kisses he demanded, the way his fingers dug into her curves, it had nothing to do with their upcoming separation. Because no matter what, Canto wasn’t about to let her go.
The Architect
Once the delusion takes hold, it’s proven impossible to treat, though we continue to make the attempt.
—Report to the Psy Ruling Coalition from Dr. Maia Ndiaye, PsyMed SF Echo
SOMETHING WAS HAPPENING in the Net, but the Architect’s contacts had let her down this time. The Ruling Coalition was being very closemouthed about what was to take place, so she had to wait, see.
The Architect did not like being outside the loop of knowledge.
It simmered in her, the awareness that she was the rightful queen of them all. The queen of a newer, better race of people. And a queen waited for no one, least of all these pitiful things called Psy.
“No matter,” she said aloud. “I can be patient.” None of her children had acted out since seeing that one rebellious group annihilate itself in an attempt to take power from her. They’d thought they could j
oin forces. All they’d done was burn up in their combined fire.
Only the Architect was immune from those flames.
She could snuff them out at any time.
Let the so-called Ruling Coalition play their little games. She would watch, she would learn, and she would strike at the moment when they were the most vulnerable. Soon, she would be the one who reigned, the one who made the decisions, the one who determined who lived and who died.
Chapter 42
Two hours to occlusion.
—Substrate timer set by Canto Mercant
CANTO STROLLED WITH Payal through the fog-bound trees in the pale light of dawn. He’d switched to the outdoor chair he preferred for uneven terrain, and she’d put on sneakers. Soon she’d leave him, get ready to do her part from Delhi.
“Look, Canto.” Voice full of wonder, she pointed to the dark form of a bear passing in the distance, the fog blurring its outline into a mirage.
He scowled and yelled, “Stop being so goddamn nosy, you furry asshole!”
Payal stared at him—while the bear turned around and bared its teeth in what he knew full well was a bearish grin, before the big creature lumbered off into the trees. Another bear padded along in the other one’s wake—but first he rose up onto his hindquarters and waved.
“Changelings, I presume?” Payal murmured.
“Ignore them.” He glared in the general direction of where the bears had disappeared. “They know you’re with me and they can’t help but poke their noses in—damn bears want to know all my business.”
Payal held out a hand, and when he took it, she said, “Are they your friends?”
“Worse. Family.”
“It’s true, then? I heard rumors the bears had claimed the entire Mercant clan as family after your cousin’s mating with their alpha.”
“The bears like to hold on to their people.”