Last Guard

by Nalini Singh

  A bright, stunning burst of laughter from her that owned him. Just owned him.

  “What?”

  “Just like Mercants.”

  He made a face at her. “Don’t be rude.”

  Solemn lines carving away the laughter. “To have such a family: it’s a gift.”

  He squeezed her hand. “They’re yours now, too. I was going to tell you post-occlusion, but Grandmother and Mother have both requested your presence at dinner next week—to be held at Grandmother’s private residence, the Sea House.”

  The minutest flaring at the corners of Payal’s eyes. “I can handle meeting your mother,” she said, her voice firm. “I can. I survived Ena, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you can. She’ll love you.” Magdalene would see what Ena already had—that Payal’s hard outer shell protected a heart capable of fierce loyalty and raw devotion.

  A bear lumbered out of the misty woods, its eyes bright with interest. Canto’s glare had no effect.

  Of course it didn’t. This was Pavel’s twin, Yakov.

  It had taken Canto a while to learn bear markings, but he could now identify the bears with whom he interacted most. “I thought I told you to get lost.”

  The bear walked right up to a fascinated Payal and bent to butt her hand with its head. Sucking in a breath, she lifted that hand and petted the top of the bear’s head. Said bear gave Canto a smug look.

  “I’ll shoot you in your big furry butt if you don’t stop smirking,” Canto threatened.

  Payal gave him a dark look. “Be polite to your friends.”

  Yakov gave her big brown eyes, with no hint of the glow that turned them yellowish-amber at night. If you didn’t know he was one of Valentin’s most dangerous people, you’d fall for the teddy bear act. Payal certainly did, petting him with gentle hands.

  When Yakov ambled away at last, her face fell. A little jealous, Canto muttered, “You could just stroke me, you know.”

  She gave him a long look. “Yes,” she said in that way she had, as when she’d worked through a mathematical problem. “I will.” A sudden smile and she was in his lap, kissing him stupid.

  His heart was thunder by the time she was done.

  “You’re my favorite,” she whispered. “No matter how many bears I pet.”

  He squeezed her hips. “You’re not funny.” But she was—wickedly funny when she allowed her shields to drop. Only the thing was . . . he loved her in all her moods and facets. Whether it was the cool-eyed CEO, contained Payal Rao, or his wild 3K.

  The light faded from her eyes moment by moment. “I have to go.”

  “You take care of yourself, 3K. Or you’ll answer to me.”

  A solemn look, a delicate touch . . . and he was holding on to nothing but air.

  Time to occlusion: zero minutes.

  In the Substrate, Canto relocated himself to the Delhi region.

  Payal was the first to link herself to him, a burst of icy light in his veins.

  Then Arran and Suriana. The other As saw what they’d done, copied their linking technique. The final link. The superanchor formed. And suddenly, Canto was heavier than he’d ever before been in his life. As if every cell of his body held a massive weight.

  Pulling, pulling, pulling.

  He was the core of the superanchor, wrenching minds toward him with inexorable force. They came, hundreds at once, sliding across the Net toward him without ever breaking their biofeedback link.

  Hundreds turned into thousands.

  Thousands turned into tens of thousands.

  More. And more. And more. Minds upon minds held within his grasp so huge and powerful . . . but he could feel all the separate strands of the anchors who made him this nucleus.

  The strongest thread of all was her.

  His Payal.

  Occlusion complete.

  Now!

  The other As disconnected from him at the same time.

  Several of those minds were far too close to where Canto’s superanchor had been. If he hadn’t broken it off when he had, they’d have slammed into him. He didn’t think it would’ve impacted him—not with how huge he’d become—but it would’ve probably killed them.

  Now he allowed his mind to return to his body, to his zone, while Payal and the other Delhi anchors absorbed all those new minds into their zones. There had to come a point where anchor zones would overload and break, but it wasn’t now.

  Payal spoke across the vast distance between them, his mind automatically catching her voice because he listened for her always.

  The minds are already attempting to stretch. That’s how the PsyNet grows—a natural progression that keeps anchor points from strain and collapse. The effect is magnified by the fact that these people are no longer in a region of the PsyNet that correlates exactly to their usual physical residence.

  How long?

  I don’t know, but this fix buys us time to dig deeper, find more answers. We can do the same for other fractured areas, gain a few more months. Until then, we stand guard. We watch. We protect.

  Because they were anchors, and this was what they’d been born to do. Have you had a fatality report?

  No, I—wait. It’s coming in.

  Canto braced himself.

  Zero. Joy seared their bond. A number of people had panic attacks, but there were no deaths and no major injuries.

  Exhaling hard, Canto shoved both hands through his hair. But his worry lingered. How are you feeling?

  Tired, but not exhausted. I expected to be, but the merge seemed to magnify our power in some way.

  I noticed that, too. Can you rest?

  No. My father is impatient. Better I take the lead, see him now.

  Canto’s jaw worked, his abdomen a steel board. I’ll be there, watching over you.

  I know.

  3K?

  Yes?

  Be careful, darling.

  The Architect

  What we witnessed today was the most breathtaking act of psychic management that has ever occurred in any of our lifetimes. Bravo, Designation A. We salute you.

  —Editorial, PsyNet Beacon

  THE ARCHITECT STOOD cloaked in the section of the Net where minds had been repositioned in an awesome display of power, and knew she needed to control the mind behind the maneuver. Whoever had done this must be one of hers—no one but a Scarab, one of the new people, had that much power. She just had to find that Scarab and pull them to her, collect them in her web.

  In the meantime, she had to keep making room for her children in this Net. There were too many Psy, that was the problem. Why couldn’t everyone see it? That was why the Net was collapsing. Their race had never been meant to be millions. Bring it down to a small number and it would be far more pure, far more powerful.

  Taking a deep breath on the physical plane, she reached out to one group of her children. It’s time. Wash the Net clean of the disease. Remove all the weak old players from the network. Create space for the newborn Scarabs to thrive.

  Her children stirred and began to act. They trusted her in every way.

  Yes, Mother.

  Chapter 43

  We aim not to conceal the break, but to give respect to it—for it is an integral aspect of the item’s character, to be cherished for the story it tells.

  —Tomoko Aoki, kintsugi master (1998)

  BE CAREFUL, DARLING.

  Unable to deal with the emotion she could hear in Canto’s telepathic tone when she was about to face her father, Payal cut the contact. She knew he’d understand. He was 7J. He got 3K and her oddities and flaws and . . . uniqueness.

  He’d know that she couldn’t be anything but a robot when she met with Pranath or Lalit. Robots had metallic armor, couldn’t be easily wounded or taken advantage of; most of all, robots were logical—and that was the biggest advan
tage she’d ever had when it came to her family.

  On the flip side, she could now also access a level of emotional intelligence that she’d locked away when she’d segregated the part of herself she’d always seen as the screaming girl.

  She wasn’t. She was simply a less restrained aspect of Payal’s nature.

  The Payal Rao who walked out of her apartment was a woman in charge of her life, and a worthy adversary. She’d decided not to teleport, because she needed to keep energy in reserve. Being vulnerable in this house was a recipe for fatal disaster—

  The psychic shock wave hit without warning.

  She slammed one hand against the nearest wall to keep her footing.

  Her phone buzzed at the same time. “Suriana,” she said, after seeing the ID. “What’s the problem?”

  “I’m stretched.” Short, sharp breaths. “Major cascading fracture.”

  Payal. Canto’s crystalline voice entered her mind as Suriana hung up abruptly. Massive Scarab assault. I’m heading to assist Arran.

  I’m with Suriana. Do you need help assigning tasks?

  No, I’ve pulled in Sophia.

  Returning to her room, she locked the door, ran to lie down in her bed to lessen the risk of injury from a collapse, then entered the Substrate.

  The shock wave in the PsyNet had to be huge, but Designation A couldn’t worry about that. Their job was to hold the Substrate together.

  Her head rang, her blood pounding in her mouth, but she and other As assisted Suriana in putting the seal in place before their minds whiplashed back to their home zones.

  The scent of wet iron filled the air.

  Looking down at her bedspread, she saw the small spread of red: she was bleeding from the nose. Only the fact she’d lain down on her side had stopped the blood from staining her clothing.

  She dug out a tissue from her pocket and used that to try to stop the blood. It was a sign that she’d pushed too hard. But as her brain was still functional and she still had all her physical abilities, it was nothing beyond a minor overload.

  Canto.

  She’d never before needed anyone, and when he didn’t respond, it was a stark reminder that such need was a weakness. She felt adrift without him. If this was what it was like to be someone’s person, and to have them be yours, she wasn’t sure she liked it.

  But the idea of letting go? No, she would never. He was hers now.

  And he needed her to function both as an anchor and as Payal. So she mopped up the blood, then took stock of the situation. The massive—and immediate—coordinated response by anchors had squelched the shock wave at its mouth. That in turn had helped powerful Psy in the Net fix the damage and find the perpetrators.

  A telepathic message slipped into her mind via the channel she’d set up for the Ruling Coalition. Alert to Ruling Coalition from Aden Kai: Attacking Scarabs captured in seventy-five percent of cases. One large eruption of the virus. An E is taking care of that. Situation contained.

  So quickly, Payal thought, but when she glanced at the time on her phone, it was to see that two hours had passed. Yet neither Lalit nor her father had tried to contact her. It appeared they were finally beginning to understand what she did. While she could understand her father considering that a plus now that she was on the Ruling Coalition, it could augur nothing good when it came to her brother.

  Lalit would see her newfound power as an insult to him.

  Rising, she ate a nutrient bar, then stripped the bloody sheet off her bed and put it in the laundry basket she’d teleport to the cleaning team later. That done, she made sure her makeup was undisturbed. Given all that had occurred, she needed an injection of the meds as soon as possible, so this meeting wasn’t negotiable.

  Already, her head throbbed.

  For once, her father didn’t make a production of giving her the medication. He was too busy on an audio-only call, and though she saw his need to interrogate her, he allowed her to come and go in a matter of three minutes. She had no trouble swapping out the vial for another one.

  Her pain was brutal by the time she got into her apartment and injected herself, but she was able to save ten percent of the vial to give to Canto. Such a small amount wouldn’t make much of a difference to her, and she could blame continuing anchor duties—and duties to the Ruling Coalition—on any necessary increase in her dosage.

  She teleported the vial and its precious cargo onto Canto’s desk. Not all teleport-capable telekinetics could do this kind of a fetch or send, but Payal had understood the psychic mechanics of it from childhood. And given the small mass of the vial, it took little of her depleted energy resources.

  I have it, baby. The pure clarity of Canto’s voice in her mind, the bond between them awash in primal protectiveness.

  Payal hugged that sensation around herself; she could protect herself, had done so all her life, but to know that he thought she was worth protecting? It meant everything. The sensation triggered another thought, and as she returned to her work, she found herself gnawing on a question that had first emerged in her mind during their meeting with Sophia Russo.

  The NetMind had done so much to protect the Es. Why hadn’t it protected the anchors? They were as critical to the survival of the Net. Just as without Es there would eventually be no sane Psy, without As there was no PsyNet. The psychic fabric would ripple and fold and collapse.

  Which left only one answer: the NetMind had done something.

  From all she’d learned since her induction into the Ruling Coalition—thanks to her newfound access to a number of top secret databases—the neosentience had made too many long-game moves to have dropped this one ball so badly. But whatever it had done, they couldn’t see it. So Payal would look and keep looking until she found the answer.

  The first thing she did was log into Canto’s private database on Designation A and start reading. He’d collated a lot of information. It scrolled in her mind, piece after piece after piece. Until by the time she lay down to sleep, her brain was on autopilot, moving the pieces from one place to the other, checking details, finding connections.

  Connections.

  It was the first word she thought of when she woke. “But there are no overlap zones,” she muttered as she readied herself for the day.

  The problem occupied her mind as she chose a skirt in black that hugged her hips and came to the knee, and paired it with a sleeveless silk shell with a high neck, in vivid red. Black heels and a wide black belt finished off the outfit.

  She kept her makeup nude today, but for the pop of red on her lips. Her hair, she pulled back into a neat bun. Canto? Are you awake?

  Yes. I’ve been trying to figure out a solution to the connective tissue problem.

  Connective tissue.

  Payal halted in the act of doing her makeup, the answer almost within reach, but it slipped away before she could capture it. Frustrated, she nonetheless let it go for the time being. Nikita’s sent out a notice about another Coalition meeting. I’d better log in. Come with me.

  * * *

  • • •

  KALEB knew the meeting was necessary, given the devastation throughout the Net. There was just too much damage, too many broken pieces, too many tears. He’d still rather be out there trying to fix the damage than in this comm meeting.

  “We stand on a cracked eggshell,” Payal said in her blunt and precise way.

  “No,” he responded. “There is no way to repair a cracked egg. We will repair this.” Because Sahara had asked him to save the world, and he’d made her a promise. It was a promise the twisted darkness inside him would go to the ends of the earth to keep—the only thing he wouldn’t sacrifice was Sahara.

  That was why he’d finally made the call that the Net had to be cut into pieces. There’d been no other way to maintain its damaged psychic fabric. That the plan had proved flawed wasn’t a failure—but th
at they had no backup was; the occlusion had bought them time, nothing more.

  Payal gave him a long glance, then inclined her head a little. “Perhaps I should call us a cracked vessel. In Japan, there is an art called kintsugi—the masters of the art use gold and other fine metals to mend such cracks, so that the resulting artefact is more beautiful because of its scars, not regardless of them.” Starless eyes held his. “We just need to find our gold.”

  But there were no answers that day, and Kaleb logged off as frustrated as when he’d logged on.

  * * *

  • • •

  PAYAL glanced at her organizer after leaving the meeting. A single priority message sat at the top of the queue: Your father requires your presence.

  A hot ball of fire in her stomach, dark and dangerous.

  Canto’s voice hit her mind the next instant. I got your sample to Ashaya and Amara Aleine.

  She knew those names. Everybody with any interest in science knew those names. The twin scientists were said to be geniuses alone—and beyond that when together. How? Payal had a lot of contacts, but she’d never managed to get close to the Aleines.

  Silver to Valentin; Valentin to Lucas Hunter, alpha of DarkRiver; Lucas to Ashaya, as she’s a member of his pack now. A touch along their bond. Mercants are all about connections.

  Again that word: connections.

  Her brain scrabbled for what it was that she couldn’t see, fell short.

  She forced her mind back to the point at hand. But why would they take it on? Payal was nobody to them.

  Scientific interest—and because I passed on the information that this was for an anchor. The Aleines were high up enough in the Council superstructure that they’re aware of the dearth of anchors. Amara, from all I know of her, likely wasn’t swayed by that, since the twins are no longer in the PsyNet, but Ashaya has a child and must’ve thought of the lives in the Net.

  Payal didn’t know much about the Aleines in terms of their personalities, but she’d once heard her father say that Lalit was the Rao family’s Amara Aleine. It had been a while ago, and she hadn’t really understood what he was talking about—only that he’d been displeased with Lalit at the time.