Shards of Hope

by Nalini Singh

  And it wasn't always about making a fatal technical error and finding yourself in the middle of a city street in front of traffic that couldn't slow down in time or ending up buried in a house that had been crushed by an avalanche but still functioned as a visual lock. When Zaira was twelve, a boy Tavish's age had broken free and 'ported to his family home. He was shot dead by his much older brother, a telepath who'd barely survived the last time the Tk lost hold of his abilities.

  After being in RainFire, being so close to the fragile forms of children, holding Jojo in her arms and feeling her small arms wrap around her, Zaira couldn't understand how an adult could so coldly execute a child, or how her own parents could've treated her with such brutality. It made her question if she had in fact inherited the madness as she'd always believed; if she had, wouldn't she be as cruel?

  "Come here."

  "I broke the rules," Tavish said after reaching her. "I'll be punished."

  The words crashed into another memory.

  No biting. Bad Jojo.

  The little girl had displayed dejection at the memory of misbehavior, but her body and face had held none of the stoic endurance Zaira saw in Tavish. "You did break the rules," she said. "Explain to me why."

  The child bit down on his wobbly lower lip, his Silence clearly imperfect despite his attitude. "You want to know why?"

  "Yes. Why did you come up here when you know it's out of bounds?"

  His eyes flickered, frown lines forming between them. "I wanted to see the houses from here. Aden told us we're going to live in them."

  "Come stand next to me."

  His steps were hesitant, his shoulders hunched in. Yet he came, though he could've 'ported away. Zaira didn't like that indication of how his spirit had already been so crushed, but those wounds would take time to heal. And they would, she vowed. Tavish and the other children had a chance, had hope.

  Thinking of how her body, her spirit, had soaked in Aden's touch, how little Jojo had flowered under affectionate contact, she put a hand on Tavish's shoulder. He flinched and her rage at what had been done to him was a violent roar in her skull. Holding it inside because Tavish didn't need more violence, she pointed out the layout of the homes being built, how they connected to one another via the pathways being laid even now, and how the central area was to be left open as a gathering point.

  There were no military straight rows, the houses set in small groupings instead, the pathways between them curving lines.

  "No final decisions have been made on the individual elements in the communal space," she said, "but there will be a playground, along with trees to climb and provide shade."

  Tavish's face lit from within before he shot her a scared look and stifled his innocent joy.

  Zaira realized at that instant that she hated seeing fear on a child's face when he looked at her. How had her parents not felt the same?

  "You must have control because you are a Tk," she said with a conscious effort at gentleness. As she could permanently damage or suffocate an opponent's brain, the harsh fact was that Tavish could break someone's spine with a thoughtless tantrum or an accidental slip.

  His face fell, water gleaming in his eyes. "I know. My father said I was too dangerous to be around my sister." A hiccuping breath. "I didn't mean for the wood to hit her and hurt her. I was just practicing."

  Zaira went down on her haunches. "I believe you," she said. "But I want to tell you that Aden has been speaking with Vasic, Abbot, and Judd." He'd also met with Stefan, a Tk who'd broken Silence not long after the first high-profile defections from the Net, but managed to keep it a secret. "They all say that control doesn't have to mean a complete lack of emotion. It means learning to be aware of the effect of strong emotions on your Tk so you can throttle it back before it slips the leash."

  Seeing the wide-eyed and uncomprehending expression on Tavish's face, Zaira realized she was speaking at too high a level for his childish mind. She changed her approach, ran her hand over his hair. "It means you're allowed to be happy or excited." Allowed to be a child. "You must simply never forget your abilities--as a changeling cub can never forget his claws or teeth during play."

  This time, the frown was deep. "I'll be punished for showing feelings."

  "No, you won't." Never again would an Arrow child be hurt for simply being. "You will be punished for violating the boundaries, but only because those boundaries are there for your safety."

  He flinched again, brownish hazel eyes stark and skin going white beneath his slight sunburn. "Oh."

  And Zaira realized she had to answer Aden's question right now: How did you punish a psychically powerful child? Especially a child who, as yet, had no privileges in his life, and thus couldn't lose them? Yet to allow this infraction to go unpunished would set a bad precedent--Tavish needed these boundaries, needed rules to follow so he'd learn the necessary psychic and personal discipline.

  It was the lack of such conscious discipline that had led to powerful Psy accidentally killing in the time prior to Silence. While the Protocol had been a mistake in many ways, in this the architects of Silence had been correct: psychic discipline had to be ingrained in childhood, until by the time the children reached adult age, they would temper their powers automatically.

  Zaira had to get that across without further breaking this small boy's spirit.

  "Your punishment is to be this," she said, knowing she was probably doing the wrong thing, but unwilling to leave him in painful suspense until someone better qualified had the time to handle the situation. "Go far enough back that you can no longer see the view, then sit down on the ground with your legs crossed."

  Quickly accessing the boy's files by using the small organizer she had in her pocket, she saw he had consistently low grades in science subjects. "While you're sitting there, you have to write an extra paper on one of these three topics." She handed him the organizer to use, the three topics listed at the top of the open page. "I also want you to think about why you shouldn't have teleported out of bounds."

  Giving her a dumbfounded look, Tavish bent his head to the organizer. It was a bare three minutes later that he looked up. "Can I ask a question?"

  "Yes."

  "Aren't you going to hurt me?"

  The question made her rage roar red-hot. "The rules have altered," she said when she could breathe past it. "Pain isn't always the answer."

  "Oh."

  Fifteen minutes later, when Aden walked up to the clifftop and glanced at Tavish, who was frowning as he painstakingly wrote his essay, Zaira telepathed Aden an explanation of events. Did I make a mistake? Had she done damage when she wanted only to help?

  No. Aden's gaze spoke to the seed of madness inside her, took away its loneliness. You've given me the answer.

  I don't think extra homework is always going to work. It wouldn't have for me. At the start, she'd just have thrown down the organizer and stomped on it.

  Aden came to stand beside her, the ankle-length leather coat he wore over a formal suit, blowing in the wind. The answer is that each punishment must be tailored to the child. Tavish doesn't enjoy science and so it is a punishment. Another child may be changeling-like in enjoying outdoor exercise, so to be told to sit in a room inside during an exercise period will be sufficient. We're used to rules, but children aren't interchangeable and we can't treat them that way.

  Tavish looked up right then, saw Aden. His shoulders grew stiff, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "I broke the rules," he confessed in a trembling whisper.

  Aden crouched beside him. "I see Zaira has already meted out your penalty for that. Have you finished the paper?"

  A shake of Tavish's head.

  "You will." Pausing, Aden said, "Was the view worth the punishment?"

  The boy took time to think about it before saying, "Yes. But only this time. I won't do it again."

  "Good. Do you understand why we need to limit your teleportation right now?"

  This time the nod was immediate. "I could g
o somewhere and not be able to get back. Or I could 'port myself off the cliff and not react fast enough to save my life."

  "Then you understand."

  As Zaira watched, Aden touched the back of the boy's head with a gentle strength that did things to her heart she didn't understand. "Finish your paper, so you can return to where you should be."

  A tremulous hope in Tavish's expression, he bent his head to the organizer again.

  *

  ADEN and Zaira walked Tavish down together when he admitted he'd overstrained his psychic muscles and couldn't 'port back. The boy kept sending them furtive hazel-eyed glances from under his eyelashes, as if waiting for them to change their minds, but he didn't shake off Aden's hand when Aden ruffled his hair as they reached the compound.

  "Go and get some more nutrition," Aden told the boy. "That trek and your 'port will have burned extra energy."

  Tavish began to walk inside the training facility, stopped after only a few steps. It was obvious he was building his courage. Then he blurted out, "Do we really get to live in the houses?"

  "Yes."

  "You said we'd have families." A quaver in the question, the hope in Tavish's voice painful.

  "Yes. Each child will be assigned to an adult Arrow or Arrows." Aden would slowly bring in non-Arrows to help balance the population, but the vetting process would take considerable time. At least one empath was already happy to settle in the valley--Abbot's Jaya. But as for the non-Es and those Es who didn't have such deep connections to the squad, none would be permitted in until they'd been cleared by both the squad's background checks and by an empathic panel.

  Tavish's shoulders fell at Aden's answer. "Oh."

  Not understanding the reason for his distress, Aden went across to him and, placing his hand on the boy's shoulder, crouched down in front of him again. "You don't wish to live with adult Arrows?"

  "I'll follow the rules."

  "Tavish." Aden put a hint of steel in his tone, aware from watching Remi that giving affection and protection was only one part of being alpha; the children also needed him to continue being the person who had the final word in any given situation. "You mustn't lie to me. Answer the question."

  Muscles stiff under his hand, Tavish looked him in the eye and Aden saw the strength beneath the fear, knew this child hadn't been irrevocably broken. "The grown-ups hurt us."

  Sensing Zaira going motionless beside him, Aden continued to maintain the eye contact. "The ones who hurt you won't be living with you." The known child-focused sadists in the squad had been erased from the world; Aden had never trusted them and he'd had no compunction in taking care of the matter himself.

  Those men and women had been beyond redemption.

  A few others, like Blake, were on probation because they'd never harmed a child, but had other dangerous and possibly indefensible tendencies. Some might even be murderous psychopaths, but Aden needed evidence before he made that call. If he acted without it, he'd be no better than Ming. Regardless, he'd permit no one on that list near the innocent.

  The third group was the most problematic: good men and women who hadn't been strong enough to refuse to follow terrible orders. He had Ivy, Jaya, and his own senior people keeping a close watch on several, because now that Ming was gone and Silence had fallen, those men and women had begun to buckle under a crushing wave of guilt. Only two days earlier, Cris had stopped a suicide before it occurred and the Arrow in question was now in intensive counseling with an empath.

  Tavish didn't need to know all of that. He needed to know only that he'd be safe.

  "You'll be assigned to Arrows in the field." Arrows who, even if they'd taken a class or two, had never tortured or otherwise harmed the children. "Like me and Zaira and Vasic."

  The boy's eyes grew bright. "Vasic? But he doesn't live here."

  "Some children may train here and live elsewhere." Vasic's teleportation skills made location a nonissue and the security at the orchard was even more airtight now because of Ivy's position as president of the Empathic Collective. "Regardless, you're to live with those of us who do not hurt our children."

  "But I'm not yours."

  "Yes. You are."

  Chapter 40

  BEATRICE KNEW SHE wasn't a very good Arrow. She was just a disposable foot soldier, not one of the shining stars. She wasn't like Zaira, who was so strong and who needed no one. Beatrice fumbled things when she worked on her own; even her otherwise encouraging new trainer had made that clear.

  "You're not skilled enough to work alone."

  Those words had hurt her so much. She knew she wasn't supposed to have or to acknowledge emotions, but ever since the Honeycomb had come into effect, she'd found it near impossible to maintain the arctic calm within that was the Arrow way. No one had discovered her fractured Silence yet, but she was terrified she'd be disavowed when it happened.

  Vasic and Abbot felt emotion, but they were important. The rules didn't apply to them. Ming had always said Beatrice and those like her had less value. He'd told her to her face that she should be ready to sacrifice herself if that sacrifice meant a more important Arrow would live.

  Beatrice could do that, and even with her awakening emotions, she hadn't lost control of her abilities. Not even once. She'd been proud of that, so hearing Blake dismiss her competence as a solo operative had hurt even more. But then he'd said, "Partnerships can be valuable. You need a partner and I'm searching for one."

  Never had she expected that such a senior, experienced Arrow would choose her for a partner. He'd even given her a choice. Of course she'd said yes. No one else had ever seen such potential in her.

  Now she had to make sure she didn't screw up. She'd do everything he said, follow orders without hesitation. She'd be the perfect Arrow.

  Chapter 41

  THE DAY AFTER she'd met Tavish, Zaira put in time working on the construction in the valley. Venice was quiet at present and the Net in general had stabilized after recent disruptions. Much as it pained Zaira to admit it, Nikita had been right to insist on the public statement by the Ruling Coalition.

  As for the hunt for the people behind Aden's and Zaira's abductions, that continued unabated. Both of them were in direct touch with the team tasked with following all possible leads, including those via property records. It turned out the bunker land was owned by a shell company that was owned by a shell company ad nauseam.

  The final ownership led back to a five-year-old child who'd died fifty years earlier; but no Arrow had ever let a dead end stop him or her, and the hunt continued. Zaira didn't interfere with the investigation, aware she wasn't the best person to handle this kind of a back-end track--she did better with a physical target.

  Instead, as she worked in the valley, she plotted how to get Aden to take a break from his duties as leader. He needed time to just be Aden, she thought . . . and remembered how he'd been in the bed in the aerie. He'd definitely not been thinking about his responsibilities then. The primal part of her stretched out at the memory of his arousal, at the remembered sensation of his hand clenching in her hair, and of how he'd felt so hard and hot under her.

  Breasts swelling tight against her bra and pulse racing, Zaira could feel the rage that wasn't rage around Aden rising to the surface. Even two days earlier, she'd have fought to stifle it, but that was before she'd met Tavish, before she'd begun to question whether she had in fact inherited the madness, rather than simply being driven by a justified anger. If it was the latter, then there was the possibility she could leash her violent possessiveness and have the man who currently worked in her line of sight.

  At some point during the past hour, several of the males had stripped off their T-shirts, sweat dripping down their backs. All were in Arrow shape, their bodies strong, but Zaira noticed only Aden. Sleek and muscled and beautiful as he maneuvered a heavy piece into place, she wanted to pet him.

  His eyes caught hers as the thought passed through her head, and for an instant he looked incredibly young, the words he
telepathed to her unexpectedly playful. I'm never wearing a shirt again.

  She replied instinctively. Good. I like the view.

  Forced to look away by his task, Aden nonetheless didn't break their telepathic connection. Would you do what you did at the aerie? Touch me, kiss me, own me?

  You forgot the biting.

  Anything you want, Zaira. I'm yours.

  A shudder rippled through her at the passionate commitment in his tone, but a squadmate five feet to her left yelled for help with a falling wall right then, interrupting her sensual conversation with Aden. By the time she finished the assist and found Aden again, it was to see him in intense discussion with Cristabel and Walker.

  No more time for play, she thought, disappointed. The latter should've worried her for what it betrayed about her discipline, but once again, she thought of Tavish and of how her parents had hurt her. She'd never do that to a child. Never. That cruelty was simply beyond her. So maybe, just maybe, she wasn't a monster and could be permitted to love Aden.

  Returning to Venice after night had fallen over the canals, that thought in mind, she'd just finished changing after her shower when Mica telepathed her. We have intruders.

  Zaira had put the entire facility on alert as soon as she and Aden returned from the Smokies, the watch doubled and extra sensors laid down along the entire perimeter, including in the waters of the relevant canals. How far?

  Three minutes till they cross the southwestern boundary line. Confirmation that it's two operatives, moving with stealth. A pause. They have small packs. No visible weapons.

  Outside on the roof by this point and in a position to watch the boundary, she got down on her belly. Did our scanners detect explosives?

  Negative.

  Using the high-powered night-vision goggles she'd picked up, Zaira considered the pair. Breathing masks, she ordered, after weighing up all possibilities. No one is to stop them.

  This couldn't be coincidence. Either Aden's and Zaira's rumored abductions had given someone else the courage to attack the Arrows or these saboteurs were connected to those who'd taken them. Zaira wasn't about to waste the opportunity to discover more.

  Understood.

  Zaira grabbed a mask for herself from a nearby storage locker as Mica initiated the telepathic tree that meant the order would hit every Arrow mind within the compound in fifteen seconds flat, then settled down to wait. It didn't take long. The saboteurs lobbed gas grenades into the compound before turning to make their escape.