by Nalini Singh
Ashaya’s face lit up.
As she got up to come around behind Memory, she said, “I kept my mate up all night telling him about Amara and our strange, wonderful afternoon.” The M-Psy went on to speak about her leopard changeling mate and her Psy son, who considered himself an honorary cat and was with his adoptive father today. “Learning leopard secrets,” Ashaya said with a laugh. “Important man-business.”
Memory found herself wondering if Alexei took wolf pups off to learn wolf secrets. The idea of her growly golden wolf corralling curious pups made her grin.
Jaya returned while Ashaya was still detangling Memory’s hair. “We can start on the drills while Ashaya does her thing,” she said, her elegant features warmly affectionate. “First, we’re going to do the psychic version of piano scales to warm you up.”
It became clear within the first quarter-hour that the usual E exercises simply didn’t work for Memory’s brain. Memory fisted her fingers into her palms, her gut churning at this evidence that she didn’t belong in Designation E, but Jaya wasn’t about to give up. She threw out a far different exercise . . . and Memory flew through it.
“Interesting.” Jaya sat back in her chair, rubbing the back of her neck. “That particular exercise was originally designed for telepathic Arrow trainees,” she said just as Sascha arrived. “Abbot showed it to me.”
The room was now filled with so much friendly feminine energy that Memory felt overwhelmed—in a good way. Never had she imagined she’d have this many friends around her, people who seemed to like her regardless of her dark ability. She felt shy about claiming them as friends out loud, but she hugged the thought close in her heart.
“Hmm,” Sascha said, in the process of taking off her royal blue coat with silky blue and white detailing at the cuffs. “Memory does have an instinctive ability to use her empathy offensively,” the cardinal murmured, “so an exercise designed to teach control to a martial mind makes sense.”
Stomach lurching, Memory tried not to let those words hurt.
She’d forgotten she was in the presence of two experienced Es. Sascha’s eyes widened. “Memory, sweetheart, that’s a good thing.”
The cardinal came to sit beside Memory, weaving one hand through Memory’s. “Do you know how many people want to use Es? Break us and manipulate our abilities for their own gain?” The stars disappeared from her haunting gaze. “If we can teach all Es to do what you do without thought, we give them a sword and a shield.”
Jaya nodded. “You’re an E we could pair with a more vulnerable one so you could protect that person.”
Memory’s entire sense of self altered at that instant. To be the protector rather than a victim? It filled so many broken spaces inside her. “I see now,” she said through the intense tightness in her chest. “Thank you.”
Sascha and Jaya both hugged her with empathic affection before stepping outside to chat about the compound’s wider training schedule. Ashaya spoke into the silence broken only by the faint murmur of the other two women’s voices.
“Don’t let the bastard who caged you continue to mess with your head.” Her voice was firm, the words an order. “I grew up with Amara—trust me, I know how subtle the manipulation can be, how it gets inside you and creates holes, weakness that a psychopath can exploit. Believe nothing he ever told you about yourself.”
Memory made a face. “I need to tattoo that on my forehead.” She kept falling back into old patterns, believing herself a monster—but that was Renault. Not her.
“I don’t think you need to go that far,” Ashaya said with a laugh as she began to pack up. “I saw the way Alexei was with you—trust me, when a predatory changeling that strong keeps expecting you to meet him toe-to-toe, strength is a given.” A wink. “Don’t give an inch. It’s much more fun that way.”
Blood hot at the memory of tangling with Alexei, Memory raised a hand and felt her curls all separate and glossy, each one full of bounce. Things cracked and broke inside her. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’ve given me back a piece of myself.” Now, she had to claim the rest, claim the future she wanted for herself. Growly wolf included.
Chapter 27
Okay, a grumpy man. Here’s the thing, it depends on the changeling. Bears, for example, can be grump monsters—but pet them and tell them they’re wonderful and the best at everything and they’ll smile and grab you up in those big arms and the rest, as all of us mated to bears know, is delicious history.
Wolves, however, are a tougher nut to crack. It is the opinion of the Wild Woman team that wolves like to brood. They are the champions of changeling brooding . . . but crack that hard shell and oh my goodness. No one plays like a wolf—he’ll charm your pants right off your body. So if you get a grumpy wolf, we suggest a sneak attack.
—From the June 2077 issue of Wild Woman magazine: “Skin Privileges, Style & Primal Sophistication”
SASCHA SHOOED MEMORY out around two, after offering to put together sandwiches for them. “You need fresh air—and I need to call my cub.”
Fascinated by the idea of a little girl who shape-shifted into an equally little panther, Memory popped into the bedroom area first to see her hair in the mirror. Both her hands flew to her mouth. She looked like a picture from a magazine, all vibrant hair, glossy and perfect. Except that it wasn’t too perfect—Ashaya had left her curls to go where they would, and they erupted out of her head in a burst of wild joy.
Memory all but bounced back out to the kitchen area.
“You’re very smart,” Sascha was saying, a tone to her voice that made Memory’s heart hitch, it was so quintessentially maternal. The cardinal’s attention was on the small screen of her phone, but she lifted a hand in a wave as Memory passed.
Cold air kissed her cheeks outside, the bright sun no match for the fading edge of winter. Spotting a group of people seated on a rough circle of stones in the clearing to her left, she decided to go in the other direction. Only it was too late. Jaya had seen her; she motioned Memory over.
Heart thudding, Memory reminded herself to breathe—and to remember that invisible tattoo on her forehead.
“Break from shield training?” Jaya asked when Memory reached her.
Instead of wincing at the reference to her remedial shield lessons, Memory squared her shoulders and nodded. Shields were critical and hers needed to be impenetrable. No one would ever make her feel bad about prioritizing her protective barriers against evil.
“I had to train with Sascha, too,” one man groaned, while around him, his peers chuckled. “I felt as if my brain was soup after every session—but, damn, she knows her shields. You couldn’t have a better teacher.”
The next ten minutes passed by in startlingly easy conversation with people who weren’t so very different from Memory after all. She might’ve been the only one who’d been physically locked up, but they’d all experienced imprisonment—their abilities crushed and stifled, not one had known they were an empath until after the fall of Silence.
Each was in the infancy of exploring their powers, and Memory realized she was far from the only one with scars on her psyche. At one point, a quiet brunette E named Cordelia mentioned that she’d been denigrated in her family group as a “useless Gradient 1.7 psychometric.” Cordelia was actually a Gradient 7.9 empath.
“It’s hard getting my head around that,” Cordelia said in her soft voice. “I keep falling into the black hole of thinking myself worthless.”
Memory wanted to kick Cordelia’s family for her, bruising them black and blue. Only one thing made her hesitate in sharing her own similar stumbles into a lack of confidence. Jaya? she telepathed after warily requesting contact. Do they know I was a captive? It’d brand her as different, make it impossible for her to just be one of the group.
Dark eyes full of infinite gentleness held hers. That’s your story to share or not as you wish. To them, you’re just a fellow
student.
Memory exhaled slowly . . . then caught Cordelia’s gaze. “Me, too,” she said simply.
And it was enough.
Buoyant in the aftermath of meeting the others, she decided to walk into the trees where she’d last seen Alexei. Annoyance simmered inside her as she passed beneath the dark green firs. Where was he? If he thought—
“Alexei.” Her heart kicked at his unexpected emergence.
Golden hair messy, he was dressed in blue jeans and a black T-shirt over which he’d thrown an old black sweater. The sleeves were shoved up to bare the muscled strength of his forearms. He was beautiful—and anger raged inside him in a scalding storm. So much that it burned her senses. This was no growl to keep her at bay, no snarl of temper. This anger reached down to the bone.
She strode to stand bare inches from him, the tips of her sparkly sneakers touching his boots. “What’s happened?”
A nerve ticked in his jaw. “Renault’s in the wind—murderous coward did a good job of disappearing, didn’t leave a trail. We found souvenirs of his kills in his home.”
Pushing a fisted hand against her gut, Memory fought down the bile that threatened to rise. “He used to show me sealed packets. He had one with my mother’s hair in it, and on my ninth birthday, he sat there and taunted me with what it felt like to take her life.” Long-ago screams echoed inside her. “I threw a screaming fit so bad that it put me out of commission for two weeks.” Days she’d spent disoriented and adrift in nightmares and grief. “He never did it again.”
Alexei thrust one hand into her hair to cup her skull, hauled her close to him. She went, pressing the side of her face against his chest and wrapping her arms around his body. The primal scent of him sank into her, as wild and untamed as Renault had been an oily smoothness. His heartbeat was strong and steady under her cheek, but claws sliced out of the fingers of his free hand.
“Fucker is going to die.” A flat tone rigid with fury. “We’ve blasted his face and details across the Trinity network and alerted Enforcement. Cops are trying to track down the identities of the other women from whom he kept souvenirs.” A harsh exhale against her hair, as if he’d bent his head to be closer, as if he needed the closeness as much as her. “We found a body, too.”
Memory squeezed her eyes shut as ice trickled down her spine. “After a transfer, he could become charming. He could talk women into going home with him. The victims won’t all be Psy.” It made her feel so ugly and dirty to know that she’d helped a monster thrive, that she was the reason many of those women had trusted him.
Chest rumbling, Alexei leaned down and bit the tip of her ear.
When she jumped, he snarled. “Don’t you dare let him fuck up your head.”
Pulling back to glare up at him while she rubbed at her abused ear, she said, “He’ll come after me.” A hard fact.
Alexei moved his hand to the side of her throat, ran his thumb over her skin. “Get strong. Get shielded. I’ll give you a big knife as your graduation present so you can take the first hack at his neck before I tear it off.”
It was a bloodthirsty thing to say. Memory didn’t balk. Fisting her hands in the sides of Alexei’s sweater, she rose on tiptoe; she wanted to kiss her angry wolf, comfort him with touch.
But he grabbed her wrists, strong fingers holding her away from him without causing her pain. “I’m not a wolf you want to play with.” Wild amber eyes, claws brushing her skin. “I don’t have the patience to ease you into anything.”
Her chest heaved, her skin tight and a strange tension in her abdomen. “Who asked you to go easy?” she challenged, the raw physicality inside her a dark new force she could barely comprehend.
“You’re a kitten when it comes to intimate skin privileges,” he growled, his eyes flicking to her hair, lingering. But the stubborn wolf didn’t give her a compliment, didn’t play with her curls as he’d bargained with her to do. “I eat kittens for breakfast.”
Memory kicked him. With the shoes he’d given her. “You’re a big, fat, wolfy liar,” she said, well aware she was striking a match to kindling. “My sneakers tell me so.”
The nerve in his jaw began to tick again. “An attack of middle-of-the-night madness. It won’t be repeated.”
Her ear yet stinging and her blood afire, Memory whispered nonsense low under her breath, and when he instinctively lowered his head to hear her better, she bit him on the jaw. Snarling, he pulled back . . . but didn’t let go of her wrists. “You are in so much trouble.”
“I’m terribly scared,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him in the most provoking way she could imagine.
Alexei’s hands tightened on her wrists before he let go and took a step back. “I’m serious, Memory. I’m not a good playmate for you.” Black shadows crawling across his face, the veins on his forearms standing out as he fisted his hands. “Find a nice tame human or Psy.”
It turned out that she had a rejection limit, and he’d pushed way past it. “You know what?” She pointed a finger at him. “You’re right. I’ll get right on finding better male company.” Turning on her heel even as his irises became ringed by amber, she stomped back into the compound.
Slamming into the cabin, she found Sascha seated at the kitchen table with sandwiches ready and two hot drinks waiting. “You get any angrier and you’ll set your hair on fire.”
Memory dragged back her chair and sat. “Alexei is treating me as if I’m a child, as if I can’t make adult decisions.”
Frowning, Sascha picked up her drink. “I’m usually firmly on the side of anyone coming up against dominant changeling protectiveness, but Alexei has a point.” She held up a hand when Memory’s head jerked up. “Before we carry on, you should know I asked him to give you space to settle into the cabin—he didn’t stay away on his own.”
Memory parted her lips, but Sascha wasn’t finished. “You don’t have a pack or a family looking out for you.” Intense and unblinking eye contact. “What kind of self-appointed big sister would I be if I didn’t poke my nose into your business and make sure you don’t get eaten alive by a wolf?”
The deep, warm feeling at being referred to as a sister collided against her aggressive need to forge her own path. “I can handle him.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” A wry smile. “But look at it from his side. Alexei can’t know if you’re attracted to him, or if it’s only gratefulness on your part.”
Memory narrowed her eyes. “I’m not a duckling, to imprint on my rescuer.”
“No, you’re not,” Sascha said slowly. “In fact, you’re incredibly well-adjusted and certain of your sense of self for someone who was held captive for fifteen years.” The cardinal leaned back in her chair. “Not only that, your captor violated your mind on a regular basis.”
Memory curled her fingers against the wood of the table. “Do you think I’m a fraud?” It came out a hard demand, her breath stuck in her chest and scorching flames under her skin. “Does the Collective?”
“Memory.” Sascha smiled in affectionate rebuke. “I’ve been in your mind, little sister. I know the truth better than anyone.”
Cheeks heating, Memory rubbed both hands over her face. “Sorry. It’s just . . .”
“I know.” Sascha took a sip of her drink. “I faced a lot of distrust when I first came in contact with DarkRiver. Trust takes time and a hundred small acts of loyalty to build—you have to be patient and so do I.”
Memory knew the other woman was right, that she couldn’t expect the world to just believe her, but that didn’t stop her from fuming about the unfairness of it. “Why do you think I’m not mad or broken? Why am I normal enough to pass?”
“Eat first,” Sascha ordered in a firm tone.
Memory picked up a sandwich with a grumpiness to rival Alexei’s. “Do all big sisters think they know best?”
Cheeks creasing, Sascha said, “From wh
at I’ve seen, it’s in the manual. The nosiness and annoying interference-for-your-own-good is a pack thing.”
Memory smiled in spite of herself as she took a bite.
Only after she was halfway through her sandwich did Sascha speak. “Part of it is you,” she said, putting down her own sandwich. “You’re one of the strongest personalities I’ve ever come across—you shine, Memory, this strong solid light that refuses to waver.”
Memory made a face. “I came close to crumpling under Renault’s control so many times.”
“But you didn’t,” Sascha pointed out. “Own your courage.”
The words rang inside Memory’s skull, adding weight to the ones Ashaya had spoken. “He’s slithered away. The wolves found evidence of multiple murders in his home, but no signs of where he might’ve gone.”
“He’ll be hunted wherever he lands,” Sascha said with a grim smile. “I like the idea of him scrabbling for hiding spaces, don’t you?”
Yes, yes, she did. “If personality is one part,” she said, “what’s the other?” Renault had already consumed too much of her life; now, she had to focus on learning her own strengths and weaknesses.
“The fact you’re an E.” Sascha took another sip from her mug. “Renault may have blocked you from consciously accessing the PsyNet, but he couldn’t cut off your primitive biofeedback link without killing you, and the empathic ability works in a passive way regardless of Silence or shields. It doesn’t work as well, but it works.”
The cardinal tapped a fingernail against the tabletop. “This isn’t common knowledge, but at one point, the Council went about trying to eliminate Designation E from the gene pool. Eugenics on a massive scale.” Starless eyes held Memory’s. “What use are healers of the heart in a world without emotion?”
Memory froze, black horror curdling her stomach. “What happened?”
“The Correlation Concept. Psy began to lose their minds. Violence erupted. Chaos threatened.” Words that cut, Sascha’s anger a refined blade. “So the Council stopped its extermination program in favor of permitting Es to exist—while erasing all knowledge of the designation from the world. They told us we were nothing, failures.”