Wolf Rain

by Singh, Nalini

  “Do you feel the urge to kill?” Memory dug her nails into her own thigh.

  Uncrossing her legs before crossing them the opposite way, Amara took time to consider that question. “No,” she said at last. “I’ve never been driven to kill for killing’s sake. It’s a waste of energy and resources. I have no problem with an experimental subject dying should it be necessary for the success of the experiment, but I am not driven to murder.”

  Memory’s hand flexed out, her shoulders trembling. At least in this, she could forgive herself. She didn’t create serial killers. “Do you see?” she said to Sascha, as Alexei moved his thumb over her skin in a caress that made her want to curl into him and not emerge for hours.

  “I see that you’ve given Amara emotional depth.” The cardinal was frowning, the wonder not yet gone from her voice. “No other E has ever had any success with psychopathic personalities.”

  “I agree with Sascha,” Amara said, putting her hands around her knee and falling into a tone that was cool and pragmatic. “This aspect of my psyche has never before been available to me. You’ve opened the doorway.”

  Memory had to find the right question to make Amara reveal the truth. “By walking through that door,” she said to this intellectually gifted woman who was inhuman on an elemental level, “do you think you’ll become a better person? A person who doesn’t believe that it’s perfectly acceptable to dissect other individuals in the pursuit of scientific progress? A person who cares if her actions cause pain to others?”

  Chapter 20

  Twins* are a special case under Silence, the bond between them beyond emotion or a lack of it. Separating them at birth is never recommended. The psychological impact can be catastrophic, and has been known to lead to psychic collapse.

  *See Coda 28 for information on triplets, quadruplets, and other multiples.

  —Coda 27 to the Silence Protocol

  AMARA TILTED HER head slightly to the side, a faint smile on her lips. “You’re very intelligent despite your emotion-centered abilities.” An edge of what might’ve been admiration in that smile. “The answer is no. I believe I can become better at faking empathy as a result of our contact, but I am simply an . . . enhanced version of who I was. No changes to the primary core of my personality.”

  This time when Memory looked at Sascha, she saw dawning comprehension darken the cardinal’s expression. “You see,” she whispered. “I make them better monsters.”

  Amara laughed and clapped her hands together. “Is this amusement?” she asked, her eyes dancing. “It is a fascinating emotion.”

  Flushing, Memory said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called you a monster.” It had been an inexcusable lapse on her part—Amara, broken though she was, was no Renault.

  Amara waved away her apology. “By any objective measure, I am a monster. An ordinary twin would not have drugged, then buried her claustrophobic sister alive in a shallow grave just to see how she would react when she woke.” A shrug of her shoulders at that horrific statement. “You are also correct in your assessment. If I am a monster, you have made me a better one.”

  A sob caught in Ashaya’s throat. Raising one hand to her mouth, she looked to Memory with bruised eyes identical to Amara’s . . . yet so very different. “How long will the effect last?”

  Memory frowned, realizing she couldn’t use Renault as a measure. Because of how deeply he’d broken into her mind and how long he’d had access to her, the effect lasted far longer in him now than it had back at the start, when he’d first begun to use her. “Given the time we were linked,” she said slowly, working through the various factors, “and the strength of Amara’s psychic abilities, it’ll most probably last three to four hours.”

  Amara sighed. “I suppose owning you is out of the question,” she said with every appearance of seriousness. “I would keep you in a room where I could drink from you at will—I’d feed and water you, of course. Cruelty for its own sake serves no purpose.”

  “Jesus.” Alexei’s rough voice, his body coming close enough that her shoulder brushed against him. “It’s like you’re a drug.”

  Even though he hadn’t spoken to Amara, the scientist nodded. “The effect is very similar to what I’ve observed in addicts,” she confirmed. “Now that I’ve tasted Memory, I want more. Since I’ve only had a single hit however, I should be able to break the compulsion with ease.” Those extraordinary eyes locked on Memory. “I would suggest you not allow those like me to drink from you on a long-term basis, or you might find yourself considered prey.”

  Memory laughed and it held no humor. “Trust me,” she said, “I know.”

  Uncrossing her legs, Amara turned to her sister again. “Since this is a temporary effect,” she said, “and you are the most important individual in my existence, I would like to spend the time with you.”

  Ashaya, face stark and terribly sad, looked once again to Memory. “Once she’s back to her normal state, will she be able to use the emotional knowledge she gains while with me in her current state?”

  It was a smart question, and one for which Memory had a conclusive answer. “No. The knowledge gained becomes . . . colorless after the effect of the transfer fades. Amara will remember your interactions, but she’ll have the same emotional understanding of those interactions as she would’ve had prior to the transfer.”

  Memory shaped her words with care, to offer what comfort she could. “To Amara, it will no longer make sense why she chose to spend this time with you rather than, for example, returning to her lab to run tests on herself.” That was why Renault had kept Memory all these years; he’d needed the constant renewal to continue his meteoric rise in the business world even as he gained infinitely more pleasure from his murders.

  As the fall of Silence had proven, the majority of Psy had never been emotionless. Their emotional core had always existed under the frigid weight of the Silence Protocol. It had made them vulnerable to a man with an instinctive and acute understanding of subconscious biases and vulnerabilities.

  Renault hadn’t possessed that understanding until Memory.

  “So,” Amara said to her twin, a genuine softness to her that Memory could feel, “it appears that today, we can be sisters, without worry that when the monster returns in all of her terrible glory, it will give her an advantage.”

  Curling her fingers over her twin’s, Ashaya rose to her feet.

  Amara came with her.

  “Do you need anything more?” Ashaya asked, her voice husky.

  Memory’s heart ached for this woman who was forever tied to a mirror that was cracked. “If Amara could keep a detailed record of her responses and emotional reactions in the hours to follow, it’ll give me further data as I explore my abilities.” She made her words logical and unemotional on purpose, because in that contact with Amara, she’d gained a better understanding of how the other woman functioned.

  Amara nodded. “I am intrigued myself. I will make thorough notes and send them to you once the effect fades.” She held out her free hand as if to shake Memory’s, smiled slyly when Memory drew back. “I do like this emotion of amusement.”

  As the two women went to leave the cabin, Memory felt a gentle knock on her mind. A polite request for telepathic contact. Wary, but aware from the “taste” of the contact that this wasn’t Amara, she responded with a Yes?

  I know my sister hasn’t somehow been healed, said a voice drenched in a tangle of feelings, and I accept that underneath it all, she remains as she’s always been. But to speak to my twin and have her truly understand—even a little bit—the things that matter to me, it’s a gift for which I’ll never be able to repay you. Thank you.

  With that, the twins were gone.

  Memory wanted to cry—Ashaya’s mental presence was as warm and as giving as her sister’s was cold and inhuman. Ashaya loved Amara with all of her being while understanding that Amara was
incapable of loving her back.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she rubbed her hands down the front of her thighs. And somehow, she found herself leaning against Alexei’s body. He didn’t push her away, didn’t tell her that she didn’t have the right to those skin privileges. He also still had his hand on her nape, but his silence cut at her. Did he think her a monster now?

  Then he dropped an energy bar in her lap and growled, “Eat!”

  Releasing a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding, Memory picked up the bar that was meant to be infused with all types of minerals and vitamins. Grouchy growly wolf, she thought as she took a bite, her heart all tight and happy.

  It was Sascha who spoke next. Dropping her face into her hands, the cardinal exhaled with force. When she looked up, her eyes were obsidian. “I refuse to believe that your ability to reach psychopathic individuals is only so that those individuals can become better psychopaths.” A mutinous set to her jaw. “You are a gift, Memory. A remarkable E.”

  When Sascha held out a hand, Memory didn’t hesitate to take it. Not only had the empath only ever been kind, Memory had the feeling Sascha didn’t need physical contact to divine emotions; her power was a storm. How foolish the world had been to believe her a broken cardinal for so many years of her existence.

  More empathic cardinals existed now, but Sascha had grown deepest and longest into her power. She had a weight to her psychic presence that was both calming and a little terrifying in its beauty.

  “The most pressing concern,” Sascha said after closing her fingers over Memory’s, “is your lack of shielding.” Firm, practical words. “Shields happen to be my specialty and, starting today, we’re going to work on building yours. You should’ve been able to deflect Amara—there’s no reason you have to be open to any psychopath who manages to touch you.”

  Memory’s heart thundered.

  Careful not to dislodge the warmth of Alexei’s hold, she shifted to fully face Sascha. “Renault was always able to get to me, no matter what.” Memory had tried again and again to build on the foundations of her childhood lessons on the subject, failed each and every time. “No matter what I managed to construct, he tore through it as if it was tissue paper.”

  “This man had you since you were a child.” Sascha’s expression was suddenly fierce, and all at once, Memory could see the deadly cardinal who’d struck out at those who’d targeted her cub. “I spotted bad mental bruising during the time you permitted me in your mind. The good news is that it’s begun to heal at the edges—it shows no signs of being a permanent injury.”

  Memory’s hand curled as, beside her, Alexei’s body was dangerously motionless. “Is that why my coordination is problematic? When Alexei first found me, I moved much worse than I do now.”

  “It’s possible,” Sascha said. “But, given your rapid improvement, it’s also possible the coordination issues were a subconscious rebellion on your part.” The echo of Lucy’s words was welcome, but the cardinal wasn’t done. “The bruises are a surface issue. More dangerous is that I believe your captor created back doors in your mind when you were too young to stop him—they’d give him a shortcut through any shields you had.”

  Alexei curled his hand further around Memory’s nape, until his claws touched the front of her throat. “Can you help Memory close those doors?” His voice had a serrated edge, no growl in it, just pure, lethal focus.

  Memory didn’t ever want Alexei to direct that predator’s tone at her.

  “We have to find them first.” Sascha’s words contained nothing of defeat, only grim determination. “Luckily, we have access to an entire squad of Arrows—the squad knows every trick there is to subvert a mind. It means they know the reverse, too.”

  Memory had gone stiff at the mention of Arrows, her hand clenching on her half-eaten energy bar.

  “No one will be digging around in your mind,” Sascha said with the acute understanding of an E in full control of her abilities. “Any action taken will be with your full approval and participation.” Eyes filled once more with stars caught Memory’s, their beauty making her chest ache. “I’m lowering my shields. Look into my mind, see that I would never hurt you.”

  Memory sucked in a breath. Before she could speak, however, the cardinal dropped her shields. Her power roared out, a tornado that sang with strength that could not be quantified. That was what made a cardinal—they had no ranking on the Gradient.

  Gripping the side of her chair, Memory fought to think. “No,” she said. “It’s all right.” She would never violate another mind.

  “It isn’t a violation if I invite you in,” Sascha whispered gently, as if she’d read Memory’s thoughts . . . but then an empath didn’t need to do that; Memory’s untutored emotional responses wrote her thoughts in the sky.

  “Come.” Sascha smiled. “I welcome you.”

  Traveling back a lifetime to when she’d last entered another mind—her mother’s—Memory reached up to grip Alexei’s hand. His claws retracted, his fingers curling firmly around hers. Anchored in his wildness, she took a tiny step beyond Sascha’s public mind. It was more than enough to tell her that the cardinal would never consciously cause her harm.

  She also felt Sascha’s endless love for her little girl, her passion and adoration for her mate, and her complicated emotions toward her mother. Underneath it all lay a deep sense of contentment and belonging, the purest happiness Memory had ever felt.

  It was as she was withdrawing that she caught the ghost of a moment. Her cheeks burning, she scrambled out. “Sorry.”

  Sascha laughed, the sound warm and unabashed. “My fault—I shouldn’t have let my thoughts wander.” Her eyes danced. “Lucas was in a playful mood this morning.”

  Memory wanted to press her hands to her cheeks, but Sascha held one, Alexei the other, and she didn’t want to give up either. Especially when Alexei’s threat of biting her had just taken on a whole new meaning. Sascha’s mate had used his teeth on her this morning, and it’d had nothing to do with punishment or pain. The echo of Sascha’s delight shivered along Memory’s nerves.

  “Thank you for letting me see you.” And for showing me that a male can be a source of pleasure and happiness. She telepathed the last, embarrassed to have Alexei hear the words.

  Sascha’s reply was telepathic, too. I think you’ve already begun to learn that yourself. A quick glance toward where Memory held Alexei’s hand. He growls at you and you don’t bat an eye, even though he’s one of the most lethal wolves in SnowDancer. I’ve never seen anyone poke Lexie like that. Her smile deepened. You’re an E, Memory. Trust your instincts about people.

  Chapter 21

  Rogues are our curse.

  Words spoken by more than one predatory changeling through the ages. And there is a certain cold truth in it, for nature appears to have no use for these most damaged of our kind.

  —Changeling Rogues: Broken Minds & Broken Families by Keelie Schaeffer, PhD (Work in Progress)

  MEMORY’S BRAIN FELT like noodles. Sascha had made the call to give her the first lesson in shielding then and there at the cabin—trainee empaths might otherwise impinge on her emotions without realizing it. Memory also needed to learn to control her own wild broadcasts.

  When Memory had flushed and apologized for her erratic fluctuations, Sascha had shaken her head. “Everyone in the compound is on training wheels. Just remember they don’t mean to do it any more than you do.”

  The idea of being ordinary in that way, just another empath finding her feet, it had made her feel good on the deepest level. Now she sat back in the passenger seat of Alexei’s vehicle with her eyes closed, his primal presence wrapped around her, and practiced putting up and pulling down the basic shields Sascha had helped her construct: one to bolster her privacy on the PsyNet, the other to protect her in the everyday world.

  “The more times you rebuild,” Sascha had said, “the s
tronger each shield will become. You’ll instinctively begin to fill in any holes, patch up any vulnerabilities. We’ll practice more complex shields as we carry on, but a strong base shield of each type will give you a solid foundation.”

  Prior to the lesson in shield mechanics, the cardinal had—with Memory’s full agreement—taken a careful look at Memory’s mind. She’d linked them telepathically so Memory could follow her footsteps and so Sascha could directly show her the problem areas.

  Memory had seen the bruises, seen, too, the healing at the edges. In the aftermath, Sascha had made contact with an M-Psy who worked in the field of Psy brain injuries, and discussed Memory’s situation without specifics, while Memory listened in.

  “She’s a NightStar doctor,” Sascha had explained to Memory before making the call. “Faith NightStar is pack. We have access to the NightStar medics through her—and they’re world experts in brain trauma.”

  Memory knew little of the Psy who saw the future, but even she’d heard of NightStar. According to the comm reports she’d seen, its foreseers had the highest rates of accuracy in the world—and Faith NightStar was their violently gifted cardinal. To see the future . . . what did that do to a person? That the famed clan had brain trauma specialists on call was an answer in itself.

  This specialist had asked to see a telepathic snapshot of the bruised part of Memory’s mind, which Memory had okayed. While Sascha only had telepathy to 3.5 on the Gradient, it had been enough to bounce the scan to the medic, as NightStar had a small base right up against DarkRiver land.

  Memory would ask about the politics of it all later. Today, she was simply grateful that the specialist had backed Sascha’s call that her brain bruising would heal without any permanent effects.