Allegiance of Honor (7 page)

From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

July 8, 2073

Nina,

I’m sitting surrounded by the phantom image of what was once our village. A bare three months since the Psy attack and there’s nothing here anymore. The bodies are all gone, as are the houses. No sign remains of the vibrant place that was our home.

I can hear you laughing at the idea of me writing a letter. I never did write you romantic love notes like Jorge did to Fiorella, even after you hinted so hard you may as well have hit me over the head with a hammer. Why should I write letters, I thought, when my Nina is here beside me, and I can love her with my voice, my hands, my body?

But now I’ve lost you and all I have left is paper and ink.

I saw you go over the cliff into the river. I made you jump. I thought you’d be safe, that the waters would carry you away from the carnage.

The silence here is ugly, obscene. A heavy shroud.

In the months since the Psy murdered all those we loved, I’ve returned here many times hoping you’d made your way back, but I’ve found no trace of you. No one knows of a woman who came out of the river. No one has heard of my Nina. I’m not giving up. I’ll never give up. Because from the day I first grew old enough to remember my own thoughts, I knew two
things: That I was a man of God, and that one day, I would marry you.

I’ll find you, Nina. No matter what it takes or how long I have to search. I’ll find you.

Your Xavier

KALEB HADN’T BEEN
serious when he told Judd he was thinking of taking Silver along to the meeting with Ena Mercant, but when his most senior aide walked into his office as he was buttoning up the jacket of his navy blue pin-striped suit, he considered it for an instant. Because the Mercants were . . . unusual.

In political terms and in terms of their intelligence network, their importance was far-reaching. Most people saw them as shadow players who wanted to manipulate puppets in positions of power, but Kaleb had always seen something different: a family that had stayed a family regardless of Silence. They were a tightly integrated unit with blood-deep loyalty to one another.

Kaleb had first hired Silver because he wanted an “in” with the Mercants, had kept her on even after he figured out that getting Mercant trust was nothing so simple. It had been an easy decision: Silver was the best aide he’d ever had, one who worked efficiently with and for him—as evidenced by the fact that she was here so early this morning. However, Silver also had the critical capacity to make independent decisions and take the necessary steps to action those decisions.

Kaleb didn’t trust her. He trusted very few people, but he had long ago decided that whether she brought the Mercant family with her, or not, Silver had considerable value on her own.

She proved that value with her next question.

“Sir,” she said. “Would you like me to accompany you to this meeting?”

“No,” he answered, at the same time setting up a psychic filter for any mentions of Lucas Hunter’s child. It would run quietly in the background so long as he didn’t turn it off. “I think your grandmother and I should speak alone.”

Silver’s expression didn’t change. She was always coolly composed, no matter the pressure, her ice-blonde hair pinned neatly back in a sophisticated roll and her body clad in skirt suits paired with spike heels. Today’s suit was gray, the shirt white. The heels were black. Kaleb only noticed things like that because he saw them as tools—Silver was far too intelligent to dress in impractical heels unless they gave her an advantage in some way.

“If I might make a suggestion,” she said now.

Kaleb nodded. He was well aware of his own strength and power, but arrogance was a flaw he tried not to cultivate. It led only to bitter outcomes. Look at Ming LeBon, scrambling to make a place for himself in the world after losing his grip on the most lethal squad of assassins ever known. Had Ming still had the loyalty of the Arrows, he’d have held more power than even Kaleb.

But where Kaleb had Sahara to keep him anchored, to keep him as honest as he could ever be, Ming had no one he could truly trust. It was difficult to build that trust when subordinates lived in constant fear of death or torture because Ming didn’t tolerate mistakes. Kaleb didn’t, either, but he didn’t punish mistakes that were genuine—or those that had been made in pursuit of a worthwhile goal. He’d been known to promote not only the winners, but also those who had failed but then dusted themselves off and tried again. To do otherwise was to stifle all innovation and drive.

Most of all, his people knew he never forgot those who’d been loyal.

As he hadn’t forgotten Silver when it came time to promote someone to coordinate the worldwide Emergency Response Network. Yes, Sahara had had to nudge him, but only because he didn’t want to lose part of Silver’s attention to EmNet, not because he didn’t have confidence in her competence for the task.

“Grandmother Mercant is predisposed to work with you,” Silver said
as those thoughts passed rapidly through his head. “Don’t insult her intelligence at any point by lying or skirting the truth, and you’ll come out of the meeting with everything you want.”

Kaleb held Silver’s eyes, the color an unusual light shade that was a marker of one branch of the Mercant family tree. Her brother had the same eyes, as did her mother and grandmother. “Understood,” he said. “I’m surprised you’re offering me advice that might help me best your own grandmother.”

“It’s not about besting,” Silver replied. “It’s about ensuring you don’t make a mistake that will cost both parties in the long run.”

Kaleb understood the subtext: The Mercants had, for whatever reason, decided to welcome him into the fold. All he had to do was accept that welcome and work with them. “Thank you, Silver.”

Inclining her head, she passed over a whisper-thin organizer that was a prototype from one of Kaleb’s enterprises. “If you could sign this contract before you go.”

Kaleb scanned the text to make sure it was exactly as he wanted it, then signed. “No interruptions unless it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, sir.”

Having already gotten a fix on the visual coordinates he’d been given, Kaleb teleported to the location of the meeting—though he could’ve teleported directly to Ena Mercant. Despite her tendency to stay out of the spotlight, he had a recent visual of her face. Not all teleporters could lock on to people as well as places, but Kaleb had been born with the ability.

Using it in these circumstances, however, would’ve been a grave insult to his host.

I couldn’t resist,
whispered a familiar telepathic voice, carried along their bond and augmented by Kaleb’s own strength until Sahara could reach him telepathically, no matter the distance that separated them.
What does Ena Mercant’s inner sanctum look like?

The darkness inside Kaleb stretched out under the light that was Sahara.
Are you still in bed?
He’d left her warm and sleepy and flushed from his kiss when he teleported into the office.

Do you know how sexy you are when you dress in those suits?
was her response.
Especially when you button up your shirt, then slot in the cuff links. Watching you is like having a waking erotic dream.

Kaleb smiled inwardly.
Yes, I know.
Sahara had made it clear by the way she watched him, by the number of times she’d hauled him into bed after he’d had his shower and was dressing.
Should I stop?

Come home and tease me after this meeting. You left too early.

His inward smile deepened even as he kept his face expressionless.
I have an empire to run.

Pfft. What’s another million or five when you have . . . I don’t even know how much money you have.

A lot. And it’s ours, not mine.
He’d built the empire for her, built everything for her.
This location in Ena Mercant’s home is identical to the image I showed you.
A cool floor of dark stone, steel gray walls, sofas of a darker gray.

Really?
A hint of disappointment.
I expected something unexpected. She’s
the
Mercant after all.

Kaleb looked around the room, spotted what he’d missed when he first came in.
There’s a vase of dark, dark red roses along one wall.
A single, violent splash of color in the gray.
Perhaps a subtle reminder that those who cross the Mercants die bloody deaths?

Don’t joke,
Sahara ordered, her tone no longer playful.
These people are dangerous.

So am I,
he reminded the woman who worried about him, who
loved
him, twisted internal scars and all.
But I promise I won’t take anything for granted. The Mercants can be lethal foes.

He walked to the large sloping windows that looked out over a misty gorge. It was heading into night in this part of the world, but Ena’s windows didn’t look out over a city bright with sparkling lights. No, beyond the gorge was craggy rock and then the crashing sea.
This is interesting.
He sent Sahara an image of what he was seeing.

His senses alerted him to another presence at almost the same instant.

Turning, he saw a woman who was Silver with fifty more years of life.
The same eyes, the same sharply defined face. The difference was that Ena Mercant’s hair was silky white and she wore not a skirt suit, but pants that moved fluidly around her legs, the color of the fabric similar to that of the café au lait Sahara had made Kaleb try three days earlier. Ena’s top was the same color and of the same fabric and flowed to her hips while covering her arms.

On her feet were black flats. She also wore a long silver necklace that came down to below her breasts and was anchored by an ornate metal pendant with a core of red.

Psy rarely wore jewelry, but Kaleb had a feeling this wasn’t just jewelry. “Ena,” he said, very deliberately using her first name.

Ena Mercant might be a shadow power but Kaleb was a
power
.

Better she not forget that. His decision wasn’t arrogance but the cool tactical thinking that had led to his meteoric rise—and that kept him at the top of the food chain. Even Pax Marshall, who was flexing his muscle against many others, gave Kaleb a wide berth.

“Kaleb.” Ena Mercant’s voice had a rasp that seemed natural. “What do you think of the view?”

Turning back to it as she came to stand beside him, he said, “It’s similar to my own view at home.” His deck jutted out over a gorge as steep. “You don’t want to be closer to a metropolitan area?” That was the choice made by most Psy.

“Do you?” Ena’s eyes remained on the foaming waves in the distance.

“No, but I’m a teleporter.”

A graceful incline of Ena’s head. “Point well made.” She moved her hand. “Come, sit, let’s talk.”

•   •   •

KALEB
left the meeting two hours later with the understanding that the Mercants were in his corner—and that Ena Mercant might be the most dangerous individual he’d ever met. She had ruthless intelligence paired with ruthless ambition. But where others used such ambition for themselves, Ena used it in pursuit of power for her family.

“We’ve accepted you as one of us,” Ena had said to him, point-blank. “Don’t betray the family and we will never betray you.”

It was a far better outcome than Kaleb could’ve ever anticipated. “I won’t be like the rest of your family, Ena,” he’d pointed out. “The only orders I take are my own.” And Sahara’s. But Ena Mercant didn’t need to know that.

The older Psy had given him a look that betrayed nothing . . . but that wasn’t as closed as her expression had been at the start of their meeting. “I’m well aware we’re welcoming a predator into our midst, Kaleb. But never forget that even predators can be taken down by a single poison dart.”

He’d smiled. “So, we understand each other.” Two predators who had decided to cooperate and to watch one another’s backs.

“Yes.” Ena had raised the delicate bone-china teacup in her hand, full of a pale green liquid that wasn’t part of the ordinary Psy nutrition list. “Welcome to the family.”

Having teleported back to his office rather than to Sahara because she’d had to go into a meeting herself twenty minutes earlier, Kaleb kept the door shut and considered the implications of the day. Mercant help was not to be taken lightly and Kaleb had no intention of abusing their trust. He was a man who knew how to value his assets and the Mercant intelligence network alone held the power to topple countless individuals.

Ping.

The psychic alert was faint and part of the myriad pieces of data flowing into his mind at any one instant, but he took a second to glance at it. Interesting. His search had picked up a mention of the DarkRiver alpha’s child.

Stepping out into the PsyNet with his mind cloaked so well that he was a ghost, he shot himself to the exact location of the ping. Around him, the PsyNet was a vast blackness populated with millions of stars that represented the minds of the Psy in the Net. But where there had been only black and white, there was now a delicate golden framework underlying everything.

The Honeycomb, created by the empaths, the fragile golden structure that kept the Net from crumbling. Brilliant in the once pure-black spaces in between the bonds of the Honeycomb were the sparks of color that denoted a psychic network awash in empaths. Research suggested the reason those sparks were so prevalent was because the PsyNet was sick, needed a lot of healing.

Today, however, his attention was not on those sparks or on the fine golden lines that connected people to the Es and the Es to one another. It was on the data that flowed constantly through the empty spaces between minds, endless streams of it.

He was only interested in a particular piece of it.

. . . Psy with shifting powers?

Catching the first hint of the conversation that had prompted the alert, he came to a halt, listened.

Such an individual would have enviable abilities.

Do you truly believe so? Don’t forget, the child will be hampered by her animalistic instincts.

The changelings have proven intelligent.

Yes, but Psy are more intelligent. Nadiya Hunter is unlikely to have the same brainpower.

Kaleb didn’t need to listen any longer. It took less than a minute to identify the minds as belonging to would-be-intellectuals from a university. Like many academics, their shields were all but useless. Inserting a complex “reporter” bug in each mind, one that would awaken if and only should the mind involved begin thinking about the child in a way that indicated danger to her, he left them to their pontificating.

He returned to his own mind with the awareness that a large cross-section of the Psy race still couldn’t see outside their bubble of perceived superiority. Fools. Those who thrived post-Silence would be the ones who knew the truth, knew that their competitors had the same hard-nosed intelligence and capacity to innovate. In the case of humans, they often had more because of the way they had so long been sidelined or abused.

Mention of the child,
he messaged Judd.
No threat. “Intellectual” curiosity. More like speaking simply to hear their own voices.

The reply was prompt.
Let’s hope they keep it to that.

Yes,
Kaleb thought, highly conscious of what Nadiya “Naya” Hunter represented. Considering the bloodshed that would erupt should she be harmed, he decided to use the NetMind and DarkMind to heighten the watch. The NetMind was the librarian and guardian of the Net, its task to create order out of a chaos of data and minds. The DarkMind was far different, a twisted and homicidal creature.