“I need to know the whereabouts of Samuel Rain.”
Anthony’s expression gave nothing away. “He’s rumored to be dead.”
“Rumors mean little.” In the end, it wasn’t a difficult decision to lay talk of markers and debts aside and trust the other man with the truth. Zie Zen knew Anthony hadn’t fought for his daughter because she was the most gifted and, therefore, most lucrative foreseer in the world. No, he’d fought for her out of the protective instincts of a father for his child. “I ask for Vasic.”
This time Anthony did react, his eyes sharpening. “Is the gauntlet failing?”
“Yes.”
Anthony’s response was unanticipated. “The Net can’t afford to lose him—no one truly knows how much he’s done behind the scenes in the past decade, how many lives he’s saved.” An intent look. “I didn’t realize he was one of yours.”
Zie Zen could’ve let Anthony believe Vasic was simply another contact, but he didn’t. He wanted to publicly own his relationship with the child who was his blood. “He’s my great-grandson.”
A blink. “A relationship no one in the Net suspects. Masterfully played, Grandfather.”
Once, Zie Zen would’ve smiled at the honorific address, knowing it was both sincere and the rueful acknowledgment of an opponent who’d been bested. Today, he simply asked his question. “Do you know anything that will help me track down Samuel Rain?”
This time it was Anthony who caught Zie Zen unawares. “I have Rain,” he said. “He’s been in NightStar’s care since an attempt at psychic manipulation left him with severe bleeding in the brain.”
Unprepared for such immediate success, Zie Zen paused to gather his thoughts. “How?”
“You will find this apt; the SnowDancer wolves discovered him badly injured and I asked Vasic to pick him up after the leopards contacted me through my daughter.”
“My grandson is unaware who it is he saved?” Zie Zen asked, thinking of all the myriad connections that had led to this instant.
Anthony nodded. “He was on an Arrow operation at the time and could literally only give me a minute. I sent him what he needed to complete the ’port, which he did in under five seconds—and I believe from a distance.” The former Councilor’s expression held respect for the level and precision of Vasic’s skill; being born with an ability was only the start—what Vasic could do, it spoke of intense training, concentration, and intelligence.
“I’m not certain if he had any physical contact with Rain,” Anthony continued. “Even if he did, he wouldn’t have recognized the man. Rain’s face was covered in blood and distorted by a rictus of pain.” He paused, shook his head slightly. “And Vasic had no reason to follow up on it with me. He must’ve thought the man he rescued was another random victim, especially since Rain’s disappearance wasn’t reported until much later.”
This time, the pause was longer, but Zie Zen didn’t interrupt.
“Given the apparent success of the biofusion program,” Anthony murmured, “I never considered that Vasic might need access to Rain.”
Putting aside the ironic vagaries of fate, and the question of why a man who’d been an asset to those in power at the time had been targeted, Zie Zen said, “Rain’s current status?”
“He is . . . damaged.” Anthony clasped his hands behind his back. “I don’t know if he’s capable of assisting Vasic, but I also don’t know if he isn’t.”
“I will send through the files—”
Anthony shook his head. “No, Rain isn’t functional on that level. He can’t seem to focus on data—Vasic must meet him in person if we are to get a true indication of whether the man has any capability to do what he once did.”
Zie Zen understood the situation was grim, for Anthony wasn’t a man to exaggerate things, but it was a chance, however slim. “I’ll speak to Vasic, arrange a time.” Looking into the other man’s eyes, Zie Zen said, “Has it been worth it, Anthony? The choices you’ve made?” The ex-Councilor was considerably younger, but he was the patriarch of an influential and gifted family, had been faced with as many pitiless decisions as Zie Zen.
“I’ve lost a daughter,” Anthony said at last, “seen another find freedom, have a son who chooses to align himself with me though he was raised by his mother, my foreseers are more content and less in pain, but their minds remain fragile . . . I don’t know if it all balances out in the end, but I know I’ve done all I could. It is the only thing a man can do.”
Absolute focus in the eyes that remained locked with Zie Zen’s . . . before one of the most powerful men in the PsyNet bowed his head in an act of quiet honor. “Do not doubt yourself now, Grandfather,” Anthony said when he looked up. “Without you, we wouldn’t be standing in a time without Silence. You laid the foundations on which Krychek, Vasic, the empaths, my daughter, and I all stand.”
It was, Zie Zen thought, an epitaph a man might be proud to call his own. Zie Zen wanted more. He wanted a life for his great-grandson, a real life, such as the one Zie Zen had lived for twenty-three short, wonderful years.
Sunny, I am alone without you.
How can you be alone, Z? I’m here.
At that instant, he could almost touch her . . . and he knew his mortal time would come to an end very soon.
Not yet,
he whispered to her.
First I must save the son who is the best of both of us.
Vasic might not carry Sunny’s blood, but he carried her heart.
Chapter 44
Only twenty-three and worn-out, worn-down. So many needed the help of an E after Silence, hundreds of thousands in agony . . .
Zie Zen to Vasic
IVY.
Having helped carry another stretcher to a waiting ambulance to free up a paramedic, Ivy looked up at Vasic’s psychic call.
I’m here.
There’s a survivor. Not a child. Not an empath.
A spurt of energy from somewhere deep within.
Where?
Number 24, apartment 5B.
Ivy stumbled and ran to the building as fast as her enervated and chilled body could take her, the snow a white lace curtain in front of her eyes and the hammer in her head a pounding drumbeat. When she entered the apartment, it was to find Vasic crouched in front of an open closet. He rose to walk to her, touched his fingers to her face. “The blood vessels have burst in your eyes.”
Ivy hadn’t even thought about that. “Let me wipe my face and wash out my eyes so I don’t terrify the survivor.” It’d help a little at least.
Vasic said nothing but shifted his hold to her nape and nudged her to a bathroom. “The surv—” she began, conscious of the air warming around her.
“I have a telepathic eye on him.” Stopping inside the tiled enclosure, he waited as she washed out her eyes using tepid water. When she was done, he drew her close to pat her skin dry with tissues he’d grabbed from a nearby dispenser.
Though his face betrayed nothing, she had the sense he was furious. “Vasic.” She curled her hand over the solid bones of his wrist.
“Do you think,” he said in a quiet tone that raised every hair on her body, “you could attempt not to kill yourself in front of me?”
She flinched at the whip of words. “I was trying to help.” It hadn’t been much in the scheme of things, but neither had she been totally useless.
“How will a dead empath help anyone?” Throwing away the tissues he’d used, he undid her snow-wet coat and ’porting it away, brought in his Arrow jacket. Zipping her up in it, he said, “Do it again, and I’ll have you back in the orchard so fast, you won’t have time to draw breath.”
Unadulterated anger had her ripping herself from his grasp. “Don’t threaten me.”
“I’m not threatening you. I’m taking care of you, since you seem incapable of doing it yourself.” He went to step out of the bathroom with that harsh judgment.
Ivy grabbed his upper arm, seeing through his cool ferocity to a violent darkness beneath. “Talk to me.” It was an order. “You’re hurting.”
No sign of a thaw. “We have a situation to handle.”
Placing herself in front of him, she shook her head. “You’re just as important.” She cupped his face, held that icy gaze, and let him see her own determined fury. “You know I’m stubborn enough to stand here forever.”
His jaw worked under her hand . . . and then he finally lowered his forehead to touch hers. “We found children,” he said, voice raw. “Trapped with their maddened guardians, with no way out. Tiny limbs, tiny faces, fragile bones.”
Eyes gritty, Ivy held him close, kissing his temple, his cheek, as she stroked his hair. “I’m so sorry.” She knew he’d carry the images with him forever. That was who he was—a man who cared, who
remembered
. It made her heart hurt for him, for her Arrow who would not cry but who felt more deeply than anyone she’d ever before known.
“The little girl you helped me save?” she said, in an effort to ease a little of his pain. “Her name is Harriet, and she’s safe and sound.” Touching his mind, she ’pathed him an image Harriet’s mother had sent to her phone after Ivy called the woman to ask how Harriet was doing. “See, she’s warm and snuggled up in bed, her favorite toy beside her.”
Allowing Ivy to hold him, comfort him, for another minute, Vasic raised his head and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Thank you for being mine, Ivy Jane.”
“Always,” she said, voice wet, then followed him out to the closet, where she crouched down to look into the tiny space within.
The thin man inside had to be in his late twenties, his teak-colored skin soaked in sweat. Having shoved himself totally to the back of the closet that appeared to hold neatly ironed shirts and pants, he whimpered at the sight of her. She wanted to absorb his fear, his hurt, but aware of Vasic barely leashed behind her, she controlled the instinct. As evidenced by the headache that hadn’t decreased in intensity over the past hour, her senses were too battered to take more . . . and she had no desire to end up in the orchard.
Because her Arrow would carry out his threat, of that she had not a single doubt.
“Hi.” She took a nonaggressive cross-legged position on the floor. “I’m Ivy.”
No answer.
She didn’t move, kept her face calm and reassuring until he gave a jerky nod. “Miguel.”
“Nice to meet you, Miguel.” She tilted her head slightly to the side. “I’ve never said that to anyone in a closet before.”
His lips curved shakily, then fell, his handsome face crumpling in on itself. “What’s happening?” It was a plea, his eyes wet.
“I don’t know, but your survival might be our first clue as to how to stop it.”
Miguel began to cry, the great gulping sobs shaking his entire frame. “I’m the most broken person I know,” he said between the sobs. “My Silence is so flawed, my family unit disinherited me.”
Ivy bit back a pulse of anger . . . and saw the bright glimmer of an answer on its heels, but her abused mind suddenly ran up against a wall.
Enough,
it said,
stop.
• • •
VASIC
caught Ivy before she would’ve fallen forward, smashing her head against the open door of the closet. Lifting her in his arms, her face tucked against his neck, he hauled Miguel out using his telekinesis. “Running will get you nothing—you don’t want to be hunted by an Arrow.”
The young male trembled so hard his bones had to be banging against one another, but Vasic had no mercy in him with Ivy so motionless in his arms. “Stay in this apartment—give your details to the Enforcement officers and tell them I’ve authorized you to remain here. Do not run.”
“I-I w-won’t.”
Leaving the man with his teeth chattering and his eyes glassy, Vasic teleported Ivy not to their bedroom, but directly to Sascha Duncan, using the other woman’s face as the lock. He’d expected to find himself in a night-dark home, but the empath and her mate were up.
Dressed in a short blue nightgown, Sascha was rocking her baby. Her gasp had barely cleared her mouth when Lucas Hunter’s claws were at Vasic’s throat.
“Ivy!” Sascha’s cardinal gaze flew to Vasic’s precious cargo. “What happened?”
Lucas withdrew his claws from Vasic’s throat, but Vasic felt the thin lines of blood beading on his skin, a silent warning from the predator whose lair he’d invaded. Striding over to his mate, the leopard alpha took the baby from her arms, cradling the child to his bare chest in a way that ensured Vasic couldn’t see the infant’s face.
Sascha had instinctively done the same. Protecting their child, making sure Vasic couldn’t get an image to use as a facial lock. He understood the instinct; he wouldn’t trust himself, either.
Placing Ivy carefully on a table that was the closest flat surface, he told Sascha what Ivy had done today, watched the cardinal empath place her hand on Ivy’s forehead, tiny lines flaring out from the corners of her night-sky eyes.
Lucas, having stepped into another room, returned without their child and with a robe for his mate, his green eyes feral as he helped her into it. “Never,
ever,
” he said quietly when he reached Vasic, “do that again, or I will rip out your throat.”
Aware now of exactly how fast the leopard alpha could move, Vasic knew that was a real risk. But—“I’ll chance it if Ivy’s life is in danger.”
Lucas’s gaze didn’t become any less feral, but folding his arms, he shook his head. “Can’t deny you have balls.” His eyes went to Ivy’s supine body. “I understand about taking care of what matters, but you have to understand I have a child as well as a mate to protect.”