A quiet pause, filled only with the soft shush of a nurse’s footsteps in the corridor on the other side.
“She was meant to go back to work twelve months after Dev was born, but she took another year off. We managed.” His eyes glazed over again. “But after that, it was mostly me and Dev. We were thick as thieves—I used to make him his lunch, take him to kindergarten, then school, help him with his homework. Sarita used to call us her Two Musketeers.”
The depth of Dev’s sense of betrayal made so much more sense now. He’d adored both parents, but he had to have been closer to his father simply because of the amount of time they spent together. “It sounds like a good life.”
“It was.” His shoulders began to shake. “But then . . .” A jagged sob. “I never meant to hurt her. She was the only woman I ever loved.”
Unable to stand his pain, Katya reached forward to take his hands. “It wasn’t a conscious choice,” she whispered. “Your mind wasn’t your own.” She knew all about that, about being made a puppet.
Massey just shook his head as he cried. “But I killed her. And I’ll carry that guilt for the rest of my life.” Shifts in his eyes, as if something was trying to get out. “I’m not lucid much these days,” he said clearly, even as tears rolled down his cheeks. “I wish I was never lucid.” Another pulse of darkness, fragments of a broken mind trying to retake control.
Katya felt movement, then saw Dev’s hand close over his father’s shoulder. “You weren’t you,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “Not that day.” He didn’t seem to be able to get out any more words, but they weren’t needed. Massey’s face filled with such joy that it hurt Katya to look at it.
“My boy,” he said. “My Sarita’s precious Devraj.” One of his hands left hers to close over Dev’s.
They sat that way for a while . . . until Massey Petrokov could no longer hold on to his sanity.
“
How did
you know to ask about my mother?” Dev asked as they walked back into his home. It was the first time he’d spoken since they left his father.
She dared go to him, slide her arms around his waist. “I thought it was something you’d likely never asked him.”
“I used to copy everything he did.” Arms clenching around her body. “I used to want to be exactly like him when I grew up.”
“He was your hero.”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Afterward, I couldn’t even bear to keep his name. I chose my mother’s instead.”
“Maybe one day, you’ll be ready to reclaim it.”
“Maybe.”
Neither of them said anything else, but Katya knew Dev would return to visit his father again. It didn’t make her want to stop railing at fate, but it did give her a little peace. “Promise me something, Dev.”
“No.” It was implacable.
She smiled. “Stubborn man.”
“It’s in the blood.”
“I’m selfish,” she admitted. “I want you to promise to love again, but at the same time, I want to scratch out the eyes of any woman who even looks at you.”
His chest rumbled, and then, for the first time in what seemed like forever, he laughed. Delighted, she grinned. And when her spine twisted under a fresh wave of pain, she tried not to let him know. But he did. Of course he did.
“Hold on, baby,” he whispered against her temple. “Hold on.”
She tried . . . but Ming had stolen that from her, too. Her
arm muscles spasmed and fell silent. Inside her chest, she could feel her heart laboring to beat another beat. The bastard had won. She was dying. But she’d do it on her own terms.
Reaching up with an effort that had Dev bracing her neck, she brushed her lips against his jaw. “Let me go, Dev.”
“No.”
They both knew he couldn’t stop her. The link to the Net—her lifeline—was inside her mind, a deeply personal thing. And yet they both also knew she wouldn’t take that step until he gave her permission. Because she understood him. If she did this, if she left him without a final good-bye, Dev’s rage would destroy him from within. “I need to know you’ve made your peace with this.”
He squeezed her nape in gentle reproof. “I’ll never make peace with this.”
“Dev.”
“Forget it, Katya.” A stubborn line to his jaw that she knew too well. “It’s never going to happen.”
Dropping her head to his chest, she swallowed the tears in her throat. He was strong. And his heart, it was breaking. She could hear it. “I can’t live this way,” she whispered, knowing she was asking the impossible, knowing, too, that he was strong enough to bear the pain. If he had asked it of her . . . “Ming’s out right now, but when he wakes, he’ll find me.”
“We’ll get you out.”
“There is no way out.” Wrapping her arms around him as well as she could, she soaked in his warmth, his strength . . . his devotion. It was the last that stunned her. This man, this beautiful, strong, powerful man, adored her beyond reason, beyond sanity, beyond anything she’d ever expected. And she had to leave him. “No matter if I survive the physical disintegration, this prison I live in, this darkness that locks me away from the PsyNet, it’ll eventually steal my personality, steal everything I am.” She’d already felt the hovering edge of a rapacious madness.
“I talked to Ashaya,” he said, still fighting for her, her lover with the heart of a warrior prince. “Her sister, Amara, isn’t a full part of the neural net that keeps Ashaya alive. If—”
“They’re twins, Dev.” She’d seen the two interact in the labs, understood something about them she’d never been able to put into words. “And Amara’s . . . unique. She probably doesn’t care as long as she’s connected to Ashaya. My mind is different.” And it was starting to crumple under the pressure.
“How close?” he asked, his voice sandpaper rough.
“Too close.”
“Link with me when you drop,” he ordered. “It’s possible we can find a way to give you the biofeedback you need through the ShadowNet.”
“No. It won’t work.”
“We can do it,” he said, misunderstanding. “You’re a strong telepath and I’ve got enough telepathy—”
“No,” she interrupted, reminding him of the unalterable facts. “The claws he’s got in my mind, the spiderweb—there’s no way I can pull out safely.”
“What if you’re wrong, what if you can? Promise me you’ll link then.”
She shook her head. “There’s a chance the spiderweb is designed to spread. What if that’s what I am? A true Trojan horse.” Meant to infect the ShadowNet with a plague that would stifle all life, snuff out every bright light.
His arms tightened to bruising strength around her. “Viruses can’t travel through the fabric of any net. That’s been confirmed over and over.”
“He did something,” she replied, even as she fought the desperate urge to grab the chance at life and hold on with all her might, “and there’s no way to know where his evil stopped. We can’t play with the lives of your people—what if I come in and we discover that Ming
did
find a way to engineer a virus that’ll survive in the ShadowNet? What then?”
“Ming isn’t known to be a viral transmitter.”
“No,” she acknowledged. “Everyone says only Nikita Duncan can do that. But Councilors keep secrets.”
“The risk is low,” he argued. “We can quarantine you with shields if necessary.”
Her vision blurred in one corner. She kept her face buried against him, somehow knowing it was blood spreading across her eye. “Please, Dev. Let me go.”
Dev could have withstood anything except that soft, sweet plea. She was hurting. His Katya was hurting, and though she tried to hide it from him, he knew damn well she was starting to lose more and more control over her body. This, now, was her chance to go out on her own terms, with the dignity and grace Ming had tried to steal from her. Cupping the back of her head, he buried his face in her neck and felt his body shatter from the inside out.
She held him as he broke, her arms so very gentle. A kiss pressed to his cheek. “I love you, Dev.”
“I’ll never forgive you.” It was torn out of his soul.
“I know.”
He went to raise his head but she held him to her. “No. I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“You’d be beautiful to me no matter what.”
“That’s what they all say. But leave me a little vanity.”
How could she make him smile even now? Stroking his hand over her hair, he pressed his lips to her temple. “Go then,
mere jaan
.” My life. Because that was what she was. The best part of him. “Just remember—the next ten or so lifetimes, you’re spending with me.”
“Yes, sir.” A final, sweet touch of her lips.
Taking the taste of Dev into her lungs, into her heart, Katya retreated to the psychic plane and began to make her way through the jagged minefield of her mind—skirting the numb, dead spots, the distorted pathways, the epicenters of pain—to the very core, to the place where she was connected to the PsyNet itself. The last time she’d seen it, it had been a
strong, vibrant column laced with a bright blue energy that seemed to surge with the bold purity of life itself.
Today, that column was pitted and dull, the energy a sluggish mud. If she didn’t do this now, death would only be delayed, not halted. And when she died, she’d do so paralyzed and broken, locked within the hell of her own mind. At least today, she could still feel Dev’s body around hers, still hear his murmurs of love and devotion, still understand that she’d touched something extraordinary when she’d fallen in love with this man.
Standing before the dying column, she took a deep breath. “Oh, how I love you, Dev.” It was incredibly easy to cut through the weakened link. One psychic slice and it was gone, her bond to the Net, her final anchor.
She waited for the agony and it wasn’t long in coming. Iron pokers tore through her insides, ripped open her flesh, splintered her bones. But she hardly noticed. Because Dev had been right. No kind of virus or created matter could travel outside the Net. As she fell, Ming’s cage didn’t fall with her.
Instead, the prison, the spiderweb, the talons, they all wrenched out of her mind with brutalizing force, ripping through her brain itself. The pain was so acute that she couldn’t even hear her own screams. And then one too many of those sadistic spikes tore free, and her mind just stopped.
CHAPTER 53
Dev had
never before heard a sound of such sheer agony. Holding Katya as she convulsed, as her screams turned into ragged, gasping breaths, he prayed for the first time since the day he’d watched his mother’s eyes go forever dull. “Please,” he whispered. “Please.” Asking for mercy, for deliverance.
Liquid spread over the front of his shirt, where she’d pressed her face, and he knew it was blood. But still her heart beat, still her fingers clawed. How much more would she suffer?
“Let me take it,” he pleaded to the heavens.
Agony speared through him on the heels of that wish. He held on to Katya even as his knees hit the floor hard enough to send pain rocketing up his body. Gritting his teeth, he swallowed the pain, opened himself up for more. Against him, Katya had gone quiet, and for that mercy, he’d pay any price.
It felt as if his skin was being sliced from the inside out, a thousand knives cutting him open.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, it ended. He found
himself kneeling on the floor, Katya’s unmoving body held to his own, his breath coming in jagged pants. There was blood everywhere. Some of it was his, he thought, realizing that whatever had happened had literally forced blood through his very pores, but that wasn’t important.
Because Katya was breathing.
“Katya.” He cupped her cheek. It was warm. But her eyes were closed. And when he reached for her with his mind, he found . . . almost nothing. Less than the barest echo of the vibrant woman she’d been.
Not brain-dead, but close to it.
Shoulders shaking with grief, he brought her limp body to his chest and collapsed against the wall.
Dev ignored
the insistent beeping of his phone.
When it wouldn’t stop, he threw it at the wall in front of him, the throw angry enough to snap the casing in half.
Two seconds later, someone began knocking at his mind, the knocks so hard they stole his concentration, his time with Katya. Baring his teeth, he opened his psychic eye and “punched” Tag.
It should have made him retreat. Instead, the telepath shook off the hit and began to speak using their ShadowNet link. “There’s a new thread, Dev.” The mix of frustration and wonder in the other man’s tone finally got through Dev’s grief. “Are you listening? There’s a new—”
But Dev was already staring in anguish at the twisting silver thread that linked his mind to a fading star. It was so small, that star, the light within it the barest flicker. And the silver thread, it was so fragile, a single careless push might jar it loose. When his
nani
’s love surrounded him, he didn’t protest, didn’t do anything, too broken inside his soul.
But part of him, the Shine director part, was able to
think, to process. “I thought the ShadowNet couldn’t take full-blooded Psy.”
“We can’t do it by choice—not like the PsyNet,” Nani said. “We tried that with a would-be defector back in my day.”
“But she’s here.”
“We made a critical mistake—we forgot to factor in the thing that sets this net apart from the PsyNet. Emotion, Devraj.” Her voice held wonder interwoven with sorrow. “The Forgotten’s bonds to the ShadowNet itself are of need, but the bonds
between
those inside our net are bonds of emotion.”
Dev heard, but that dull silver thread, that barely-there connection, couldn’t be his love for Katya. “I love her more than that.” She’d become his reason for being.
“She’s dying,
beta
, that’s why the thread is so faded. You know that.”
He knew, but he didn’t want to. “She wanted to die on her terms, but I can’t let her go. Not now.” Not when she’d fallen into his arms.
“I don’t think your Katya would begrudge you the time to say good-bye.”
Rising from his collapsed position on the physical plane, Dev carried Katya to the bathroom and drew her a bath. He took the utmost care with her, washing her hair until it shone, drying her body with the softest of towels. Then, dressing her in her favorite T-shirt and the boxers she’d stolen from him two days before, he laid her down in their bed. She looked so peaceful, as if she was sleeping.