by Nalini Singh
The atmosphere changed and though he wasn’t looking at her, he picked up her distress from the sudden tenseness of her muscles. “Brenna?”
“I saw it.”
The words hit him like bullets fired at close range. He knew what he’d been dreaming about—he always remembered the images he saw in sleep. “What did you see?”
“You killed someone.” Said in a breathless whisper. “Then you discovered he didn’t deserve to die.”
Judd’s brain shifted into automatic damage-control mode, spitting out option after option. At the top of the list was denial.
Never get into a situation where your status may become known.
If you are, however, trapped in such a situation, never admit anything.
Maintain control of your physical reactions if placed under duress and answer all accusations in the negative. Denial is key to protecting the squad.
Deny everything.
It was one of the very first things he’d been taught after being removed from his family and taken to the training facility. But he’d stopped running from the truth a long time ago. “It wasn’t a dream but a memory.” He braced himself against the horror, disgust, and rejection to come.
One of her hands rose to lie against his chest. “Why that man?”
He told her the truth—he would not defend himself with hypocrisy and lies. “His name was on a list given to me by Ming LeBon.”
“Councilor LeBon? The Arrows work for the Council?”
“No.” That had never been their raison d’être. “The fact that the squad is currently under the direct command of LeBon arises from him being a senior Arrow himself, rather than his Council rank. Arrows are a force independent of politics and money. The man you saw me kill, however, was no threat to anyone but Ming. He had the unfortunate distinction of having cut into the Councilor’s business interests.”
“You weren’t to know that. You trusted your leader.” Her fingers spread on his chest, began to stroke. “It’s what any soldier does.”
“I was an assassin, Brenna,” he said in a blunt repudiation of her attempt to find good in him. “I was given targets, told the preferred mode of death, and set a time limit. I never asked questions about who they were or what they’d done.”
“Then how did you find out about the guy you were dreaming about?”
“A year into my work with the squad”—too late, far too late—“I did finally begin to ask those questions. The answers I received didn’t ring true so I went searching.” What he’d discovered had changed his identity from loyal soldier to cold-blooded murderer.
It was the second time in his life that his identity had been stolen from him. He had vowed that there wasn’t going to be a third. “In the PsyNet, some segments of the populace call the Arrows a death squad, but we thought of ourselves as the first line of defense, protecting our people before they even knew they were in danger. Ming changed that, made us into bringers of death.”
“Then you shouldn’t blame yourself.” Her voice was quiet, accepting. “You were—”
“Acting on orders?” he interrupted. “That’s an excuse. I stopped making it the day I realized what I truly was.”
Hand pressing down on his chest, she rose up on her elbow, eyes stormy. “Instead you’re going to beat yourself up about it forever?”
“I’m Psy—I don’t feel guilt.”
A very unfeminine snort was his answer. “What do you call those nightmares?”
“You aren’t seeing what I’m telling you,” he said, staring into those extraordinary eyes. “I was the Council’s pet assassin. There is nothing good or acceptable about that. Evil is the only applicable word.” He paused. “This does clear up one thing.”
“What?” Brenna asked, not yet finished with him.
“You have no need to worry that Enrique left some part of himself behind in you.”
“Of course he did—otherwise I wouldn’t be seeing your dreams.”
“No, Brenna. You were afraid you were turning into a monster. But tonight, did you feel the same emotions you did when you saw the vision of Tim’s death?”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.” Dropping her head back down to his shoulder, she took several deep breaths. “I was seeing his dream, the person who killed Timothy, feeling his emotions as he thought about what he was going to do.”
“Everything points to that conclusion.”
Relief rushed through her like a flash flood. “I—” She shuddered.
“I know.” Stark, unemotional words. More disturbingly, though he’d come to her last night, he didn’t move to hold her as a changeling male would have done in the same situation. And she needed to be held.
But Judd wasn’t changeling. He never would be.
CHAPTER 14
Kaleb read the précis of the report on his desk and looked up at his most senior aide. “You’re sure there’s been no error?”
“Yes, Councilor.” Silver Mercant’s eyes were an odd shade between gray and blue, and had apparently been the genesis of her given name. That extraneous fact was something Kaleb had made it his business to find out—he trusted no one near him he didn’t know inside out.
“I rechecked every byte of data we were able to hack into and download. Unfortunately the facility was attacked before we broke the final encryptions,” she said, “but we have enough to make a conclusive assessment. Someone has already authorized live trials of the Implant Protocol.”
Kaleb leaned back in his chair and swiveled to stare out at the gray chill of Moscow. People hurried across the snow-flecked square, all walking as if they had somewhere to be—unsurprising, given the city’s forty-year reign as one of the world’s economic supercenters. “Were you able to determine who gave the order?” He turned back to Silver.
“Negative.” Her eyes flicked to the window behind him. “It appears you have an engagement.”
He’d already seen the trail laid by the approaching high-speed airjet. “We have ten minutes before my guest makes it down to this office. Tell me what else I need to know.” This information could mean a change in his plans.
“The authorization came from very high up in the Council ranks. The individual or individuals were able to provide test subjects who either volunteered or were those who would not be missed—the notes are vague on that point.”
An intentional oversight, Kaleb thought. No rational Psy would accede to having his or her brain implanted with a device that hadn’t yet reached beta testing. He could almost guarantee there had been no volunteers.
“The data is fragmented,” Silver continued, “but I’m ninety percent confident the test group is limited to ten members. They’ve already had one confirmed fatality.”
“Find me that body.” If not literally, then figuratively. A missing Psy who matched the description parameters.
“I’m already working on it.” She glanced down at the flat screen of her organizer. “There are two other crucial factors. The first is that Ashaya Aleine appears to have solved the issue of Static.”
Static, a term used to describe the buzz of background noise—the sound of millions of whispering Psy minds—produced during simulations to test the theory behind Protocol I. No Psy could function with that kind of mental distraction.
“The second factor?” A small light flashed on the surface of his fully computronic desk. The airjet had landed on the rooftop landing pad.
“It’s common knowledge that Protocol I would never have worked as initially postulated because it would have reduced the entire population to one level. To use an analogy, we would have all become worker bees.”
And a hive could not survive without a queen. “You’re saying Aleine solved the problem of distinct but compatible implants for different segments of the populace?” Ensuring power remained in the hands of those who would use it to keep the Psy at the top of the food chain.
“Not completely,” Silver clarified, “but she does appear to have broken the implants into two categories
—primary and secondary. Of the original participants in the trial, eight had secondary implants, two primary.”
Two rulers. With possible total control over the other eight. Such influence would be the prerogative of those in power should Protocol I come to fruition. “See if you can get me any names.” He had his suspicions, but what he needed was proof.
“Yes, Councilor.” She gave a short nod and walked out.
Another light flashed on the gleaming black smoothness of his desk to indicate that his visitor had exited the glass hover-elevator and was heading toward his office. Touching a concealed panel under the desk, he initiated its secure mode. The desk turned opaque, hiding the computronics but continuing to record everything that went on in this room. Of course, he had no doubt that his visitor had come prepared for such an exigency.
A knock and then the door opened to reveal his administrative assistant, Lenik. “Sir, Councilor Duncan is here for your meeting.” He shut the door as soon as she came through.
Walking around the desk, Kaleb went to meet her midway. “Nikita. It was good of you to come all this way.”
Almond-shaped brown eyes looked into his, cool and certainly calculating. “As it appears we need to discuss certain discreet matters, it was the logical choice. Your offices aren’t as closely watched as mine.”
He had no need to ask for further explanation. The DarkRiver cats and their allies, the SnowDancer wolves, hadn’t been shy about the fact that they were keeping tabs on Nikita. She was the only Councilor within easy reach of their territories since Tatiana’s move to Australia two months ago. “Perhaps that will no longer be a problem in the near future.” The Council had taken steps to eliminate the changeling issue.
Nikita shifted her head slightly and the light from the ceiling fixture bounced off the glossy black of her hair. “We will see. I’m not as convinced as the rest of the membership about the infallibility of the plan. Our data collection on the changelings has been allowed to lapse to a disgraceful level. We’re making decisions based on outdated information.”
Kaleb made a mental note to check her assertion. “The DarkRiver Project is still bearing good returns, I trust?” He was referring to the groundbreaking real estate deal between the Duncan Group and the leopard pack that controlled San Francisco and its surrounding areas.
“Yes,” she confirmed. “Despite the annoyance the cats present in terms of Council business, they’re good for my economic interests.”
“A sharp distinction.”
“Precisely. My profit margin will sustain major damage should the Council’s plan succeed. But I’m sure you’re well aware of that. It’s why you asked me to meet you.”
He gave a small nod. “I thought we might have a number of interests in common.”
Nikita walked past him to the window, her composed business persona hiding a core of pure poison. “I thought you would ally with Shoshanna. She was responsible for your entry into the Council.”
He came to stand beside her, hands in the pockets of his tailored suit. “On the contrary, Nikita. I alone was responsible for my ascension to the Council.” He’d set his eye on the goal at age seven and never blinked. No one had been allowed to stand in his way. But then, all the Councilors had blood on their hands.
Nikita didn’t dispute his claim. “Your jockeying for leadership is why Marshall has begun to back Shoshanna and Henry.”
He watched pale winter light crawl over the square and saw in it another future, one he’d shape. “You’re mistaken. I have no desire for the leadership. Leaders are the biggest targets and I haven’t made it this far by courting visibility.”
“Then you should tone down your aggressiveness during Council sessions, let Marshall know his position isn’t in jeopardy.”
“If he believes that, he’s a fool.” He gave her a skeptical look. “Henry and Shoshanna want to lead. Marshall would do better to ally himself with us.”
“That still leaves Tatiana and Ming.”
“From what I can see, Tatiana is the swing vote.” The other Councilor had made no alliances he’d been able to unearth. “However, we may have a situation with Ming.”
“I’m listening.”
He told her what Silver had discovered. “As the Councilor in charge of the Implant Protocol, he has to have full knowledge of the unsanctioned trials.”
“This is unacceptable.” Ice dripped off Nikita’s every word. “You have proof?”
“Yes.” Illegally obtained but legal now that it was in his hands. After all, he was a Councilor entitled to the information. “Several data files.”
“It’s much too early for live trials,” Nikita continued. “The saboteurs will have their work done for them if the populace, and more importantly, the major families, refuse to support the Protocol because it appears dangerous.”
He concurred. To succeed, Protocol I had to be proven safe—in terms of both Psy minds and their psychic abilities. “There has already been one fatality. If the news gets out…”
Nikita placed her arms behind her back. “It’ll jeopardize the future of the entire operation. I assume you’re working to track the ten involved?”
Kaleb nodded. “It’s no use confronting Ming before we have more. We can’t risk alienating him. If the Scotts seize majority control of the Council, it’ll compromise a number of our interests.”
“Agreed.”
“There is another possibility,” he said. “That the Scotts have inserted their influence into Ming’s project without his knowledge—they’ve already shown a willingness to act without majority authorization.”
“That would shift Ming’s allegiance, or at least limit his support for their motions.” Nikita seemed to come to a decision. “We’ll discuss our next step when we have more data, unless you see a cogent reason for not waiting.”
“There’s no need to rush.”
“I see a lot of changelings down there.” She nodded at the square. “How’s the racial situation in your town?”
Moscow was hardly a town, but he let it go. “Stable. The local wolf pack is at present fighting for dominance against a well-established bear clan. As a result, they have no interest in Psy affairs. The humans pose no threat.”
“They never do.” Nikita dismissed the entire race with the flick of a hand. “Before Sascha dropped out of the Net, we learned that changeling packs aren’t as isolated as previously believed—I’m now investigating how far that goes. Any indication your wolves might be linked to the SnowDancers?”
Kaleb shook his head. “BlackEdge has no connections outside the immediate region. They’re too busy with petty local matters to think big.”
“Let’s hope they remain that way.” Nikita started toward the door.
He fell into step beside her. “Leaving so soon?”
“I have a meeting in San Francisco in a few hours.”
“The airjet should get you there in plenty of time.” It was one of his, designed and built by a corporation of which he had majority control. “I’ll keep you updated. I’m sure you have enough to handle in relation to the execution of the plan targeting DarkRiver and the SnowDancers.” It was a very deliberate comment on his part.
As Nikita had made clear, she didn’t support the Council’s plan. However, she’d been placed in charge of it because Shoshanna had made a point of saying that as the mess was in Nikita’s backyard, she should be the one to clean it up. Especially since her daughter was part of the problem.
Nikita gave him a chilly Psy smile. It meant nothing, of course. “If stage one of the plan works as expected, we should see a number of changeling fatalities within the next few hours.”
CHAPTER 15
The morning after she’d witnessed Judd’s dream, Brenna left the cabin for a walk. The air was fresh and crisp under the snow-heavy trees. Judd had already gone to check things at the boundary line, leaving her plenty of time to think.
You aren’t seeing what I’m telling you.
Judd believed she
was viewing him through rose-colored lenses, but he was wrong. She understood what he’d done, realized the darkness inside of him. But she’d also looked true evil in the face, had had the sliminess of it invade her mind. She knew categorically that Judd was not cut from the same cloth.
Not that his confession had come as a surprise. She’d sensed from the start that he was no angel. Still, he’d attracted her, the changeling heart of her sensing a strength in him that would complement and nurture her own. It had never scared her that—
Something made a sound to her left.
Freezing, she sniffed the air and felt her eyes widen. Her first instinct was to call out to Judd, but she had no idea of his exact location. Neither could she backtrack to the cabin—she’d walked a long way and was now cut off from both it and the weapons hidden inside. She couldn’t even defend herself by going wolf.
Her stomach twisted, but she forced herself to think past the bitter taste of rage. If the intruders scented her, she was dead. Right then, she was downwind, a small advantage—she could probably take out two or three of them before they realized they were under attack. The trouble was, there were a lot more than three hyenas out there. And while hyena changelings were often cowards one-on-one, they wouldn’t hesitate to go for a more dominant target if a pack of them found you alone and unprotected. She’d be torn to pieces in minutes.
Moving carefully to avoid betraying her position, she thanked the heavens for the firs that provided cover. Ordinarily, she would’ve gone up into those same trees, but that would trigger snowfall from the branches.
Snow!
Brenna, you idiot! It was a mental curse as she looked behind her and saw the solitary trail of footprints. She didn’t have time to go back and erase them, but she made sure to cover her tracks from that point onward. Too late. Too slow. She was far too slow. She considered breaking out into a full run, but with so many of them, they would run her to ground before she reached safe harbor.
Brenna.
It wasn’t exactly a sound in her head, not a spoken word in any way. She couldn’t explain how she heard it, but she knew it was Judd. It “smelled” like him.