Slave to Sensation (25 page)

Fear gnawed at the stomach of the woman on the bed but in the PsyNet, there was only a mind as calm as a pond. She barely managed to make it back before Henry went through the doors. After exiting, he charted a clear path to the darkest section of the Net, access to which was highly restricted. What she'd never expected as they cleared that section was the even darker core that lay within.

The Council chambers.

This was where it got tricky. If the other members were there, they might pick up what Henry hadn't. Nikita was the most dangerous. In the same manner that Sascha had recognized her family's signature in the vault, her mother would recognize hers if even the faintest hint of her mind emerged from the shadow of Henry's psyche.

However, Nikita had mentioned nothing about a meeting when they'd spoken. Sascha would've never instigated a ghosting otherwise. She told herself not to panic. Then they were through the final checkpoint and in the innermost core. Six other minds flared bright around them.

The Council was in session.

Taking desperate measures, Sascha forced herself to go under further than she'd ever before done, merging her consciousness with the outer layer of Henry's on a molecular level. Prolonging such a merge could mean the destruction of her psyche but there was no other option.

“Why are we here?” Crisp and young, the voice had to belong to Tatiana.

Though she was outside Henry's firewall and couldn't hear what he was thinking, she
could
hear what he heard—the others' thoughts all had to pass through his firewall and, by extension, through her, to reach his mind. That was the genius of ghosting.

“Yes,” Nikita said, “I had to pull out of something extremely important without notice.”

“He's taken another changeling girl.” Marshall's razor blade of a mind.

Buried so deep that she was no longer a person, Sascha recorded the conversation without processing it. Reaction was her enemy here.

“When?” Tatiana.

“Two and a half days ago. We did too good a job of telling our subordinates to bury any further cases—they didn't think we'd be interested in keeping up to date.” Marshall's tone didn't change. “I stumbled onto the information during a conversation with one of my guards.”

“This can't be allowed to continue.” Nikita. “In spite of what some of you insist on thinking, the changelings aren't without power. DarkRiver hasn't forgotten their lost female—I wouldn't be surprised if they're already hunting. We'd better hope they don't grow impatient and decide one of us will do in lieu.”

If Sascha had allowed herself to think, she might've been startled, having been unaware that Nikita had such a clear grasp of a truth most Psy ignored.

“What pack was it this time?” Enrique.

“The SnowDancers.” Marshall.

“It's a wonder hundreds of us aren't already dead.” Nikita. “Those wolves are vicious.”

“They're only changelings.” Ming's cool menace. “What can they do?”

“Don't be stupid.” Nikita. “They know we have to get close to influence them—close enough to be vulnerable to their weaponry. The SnowDancers took out five Psy last year. The Net was never alerted that they were in any danger. They simply winked out of existence one after the other. Their bodies have never been found.”

“Why didn't we make an example of them?” Henry.

“The Psy who got taken out were acting foolishly. They went alone into restricted territory open only to the wolves.” Marshall's cold darkness. “We don't support fools.”

“There's no mistake this killer is Psy?” Nikita.

“The NetMind has picked up traces of certain pathological traits within the patterns of a Psy mind. The traits peak during the week that he holds the women.” Marshall. “There's been no success in tracking him.”

“Only a very powerful psychic could hide himself so well.” Nikita. “It has to be a cardinal or someone close to cardinal level, someone who has access to the highest levels of the PsyNet and can nudge the NetMind into looking the other way occasionally. Otherwise it would've picked up more than traces.”

“We can't risk exposure.” Tatiana. “He must be contained before he gives himself away.”

“I agree. It's the only way to uphold the integrity of the PsyNet.” Shoshanna. “What if he's a high-level Psy who's necessary to the functioning of the Net? We need to maintain the ratio of cardinal anchors. Too many of them have proven vulnerable to this particular side effect.”

“If required, we leash him and keep him satisfied. We bring him the women he needs, women who won't be missed, women
not
from aggressive packs like DarkRiver or SnowDancer. And we ensure he's never discovered.” Marshall. “As of now, we all devote a quarter of our minds to monitoring the NetMind—the second it picks up any hint of the applicable pathology, we track it back to him.”

Applicable pathology? Something, which had once had a separate consciousness as a cardinal named Sascha, worried over the strange word choice.

“How do you know he won't choose to go underground until we give up?” Nikita. “If he's that good at hiding his tracks, he's going to be aware we're keeping watch.”

“He hasn't killed the newest girl yet. I don't think he'll be able to stop himself from doing so.” Marshall. “All our research on serial killing in the Psy populace supports the compulsion theory.”

“How many others are operating at present?” Nikita. “The last data I received said fifty.”

“Those are all the ones we're aware of. None are as much of a concern as our unknown—they aren't preying on high-visibility victims. Most are targeting other Psy, which makes our job considerably easier.”

“What's being done about them?” Henry.

“They're being set up to be sentenced to rehabilitation for unrelated reasons. The ones we can't afford to lose are being provided for. Every one of them will be taken care of without alerting the PsyNet.”

“But there will always be more.”

“That is the nature of the Psy.”

The meeting concluded without further discussion. Henry made his way back through the door and the outer core, Shoshanna by his side. They didn't speak until they were inside the walled rooms of their private vault.

“What do you think?” Henry asked.

“It's a reasonable outcome. We can take care of this matter without anyone knowing.”

“The changelings are suspicious.”

“Suspicion is worthless without proof. Nobody has uncovered even a single Psy serial killer since the first generation of Silence. We know how to keep our secrets.” Shoshanna's energy flared. “Where were you?”

“In the history archives.”

“Tagging?”

“Yes. You were right again—the indicators are present in several members of the extended family, but it's the youngest boy who might become a cause for concern.”

“Let's discuss it tonight.” She left without a backward look.

Henry checked his calendar and began the return journey to the archives.

The part of him that was Sascha rose sluggishly to the surface, prodded awake by the recall of her earlier near-trapping in the vault. It took her precious seconds to realize her own consciousness. She'd come perilously close to losing herself in Henry. Detaching from him before he reached the vault was imperative but she had to separate as softly as she'd merged.

So she waited. They were almost to the vault when they passed a guard with a sloppy alarm system. She flowed from Henry to the guard's shadow. When the man completed his circular route and reached the outer level of the restricted zone, she flowed onto another guard. Step-shadowing her way back to her own mind took over three hours in real time because she was tired, exhausted by the extended immersion in another's consciousness.

At long last, she slipped back around her firewall and released the gathered information into her mind. It was like letting go of a data bomb loaded with shrapnel. Her eyes opened with a snap and she collapsed backward on the bed, her heart racing at a thousand beats per second. There was too much new information in her mind. She let it process while she lay there staring at the ceiling and thinking she was starving.

A look at her watch confirmed it was well past dinner-time. Groaning, she went to the console and checked for messages. There was one from Lucas. He looked very much like the predator he was, the lines on his face vivid against the golden heat of his skin. “Ms. Duncan. If you could spare some time this evening I'd like to discuss a matter to do with the design change. I'll be at our earlier meeting place.” The message ended.

No one eavesdropping would've given it a second thought. Businesspeople left vague messages like that all the time. Only she saw the worry in those cat-green eyes, only she knew he'd called after she hadn't gotten back in touch within a reasonable amount of time, only she ached to go to him.

A glance in the mirror showed her appearance to be completely acceptable. No one looking at her would've guessed at the turmoil inside. Decision made, she went to the console to return the call but changed her mind. No use alerting anyone who was watching her as to her whereabouts. Her heart twisted at the thought of Lucas worrying but she knew he'd have told her to do exactly what she was doing.

She changed out of the relaxed clothing she'd been wearing and into a severe black pantsuit and white shirt. It was the uniform of the Psy and she couldn't afford to stand out. So armed, she walked out. And almost ran face-first into Enrique. If she hadn't spent a lifetime keeping secrets, the shock might've made her shell crack.

“Councilor. How can I help you?” She closed the door behind her. It was a subtle hint.

His dark eyes ran over her clothing. “A late meeting?”

“Yes.” Meetings after nine weren't anything unusual.

“I'd like to talk to you. Now would be a good time.” It was an order couched as a request.

“Mother wouldn't take it kindly if I missed this engagement.” No matter how close Nikita and Enrique were over Council matters, Sascha's mother had no allies for whom she'd sacrifice money and power.

The white stars in his eyes flickered in a way she found disturbing. “Don't be too quick to turn down an offer of advancement.”

She'd thought he'd given up holding out that lure to her. How stupid did he think she was? “What are you offering?” she asked instead of laughing in his face.

“That's what I want to discuss. We can do it in private in your quarters.”

The hairs on her arms rose. It wasn't unknown for older Psy to poach talent from other families, but there was something fundamentally wrong about Enrique's offer. He was too eager to get her alone. And she was terrified she knew the reason why. “As I said, Councilor, I must decline.” She glanced at her watch. “I need to be leaving if I'm to be on time.”

He inclined his head and moved out of her way. “You'd do well to make time for me, Sascha. Most young cardinals would die to be in your position.”

Death was exactly what she was afraid he was offering. “Sir.” She kept her tone formal but the single word was a good-bye. She could feel his eyes on her back the entire length of the corridor. He knew something; he could obviously smell the flaw in her and was determined to expose it.

What she couldn't understand was why he was giving her so much attention at a time when the Council was concentrating on finding out the serial's identity. Was it possible he suspected her of being in league with the changelings?

As she entered the elevator and turned to face the closing doors, she saw him staring back at her across the distance. Belatedly, she remembered that Enrique was considered the best territorial strategician in the PsyNet.

He was a master at setting traps.

 

 

Lucas had almost scored grooves in the floor with his prowling. It was past ten at night—where was Sascha? If anyone had dared to harm her, he'd gut them with his bare claws. Someone moved behind him. “What is it, Nate?”

“Everyone's safe. Cubs, maternal females, and the elderly or injured have all been moved. I've told the sentinels, soldiers, and the older juveniles that the next alert means war.”

Lucas had given that order after Sascha had woken from her unconscious state. “What's the mood of the pack?”

“No one's comfortable with a Psy being privy to our safe house but they'll back you whatever you decide.” He put one hand on Lucas's shoulder. “You've earned their loyalty. They'll follow you into hell if you ask it.”

Lucas turned and looked into the other man's face. “That's what I'm afraid of.” At that moment, every instinct he had flared bright red. “She's here.” Pushing past Nate, he ran out the back door just as Sascha's car came to a smooth stop behind the house.

She exited, looking as cold as a statue. Except he'd seen inside that stone mask. Aware that this area was safe from prying eyes, he went to her and hauled her into his arms. She stiffened and then hesitantly returned the hug. “I was very careful. No one followed me here.”

“We can talk inside.” He pulled away to tug her into the house—where he and his pack could keep her safe.

Dorian and Kit had run into the room as he'd exited and now they stood there with Tamsyn and Nate. Despite having seen Sascha before, all the males seemed shocked at the embrace they'd witnessed. Ignoring them for now, Lucas sat Sascha down in a chair, able to feel her tiredness.

To his surprise, she looked around for Tamsyn. “I'm sorry but I'm very hungry.”