The Psy-Changeling Collection (12 page)

“How can your mother work with Tatiana when they’re rivals?” The doors opened on the first floor.

Sascha walked out beside him, graceful and eerily beautiful with those eyes that kept startling people who came up on them. Cardinals were not often seen outside the rarefied walls of the Psy headquarters. It was critical he find out why he’d been honored with Sascha Duncan.

“Their responsibilities in the Council are separate from their business loyalties.”

“Some of it must bleed over. Every administration has its cliques.” Which might mean that the Councilors could be keeping secrets from each other.

Sascha gave him a sharp glance. “You’re very interested in the Council.”

“Do you blame me?” He pushed open a manual glass door. “I’m hardly likely to get another chance to talk to a Psy so high up in the hierarchy.”

She walked through the doorway before speaking. “I may be a cardinal but I’m not as high up as you seem to believe. Simply because my mother is Council doesn’t mean I’m in the inner circle. I’m just another Psy.”

“No cardinal is ever ordinary.” Why was she protesting so much? What was it that she was hiding? Blood and death or something else?

“There is an exception to every rule.” It struck Sascha that the intensity with which Lucas was pursuing this line of inquiry probably wasn’t due to simple curiosity. Wariness kicked in but it was too late—she’d already betrayed her abnormal status within the Psy.

She had to start remembering that Lucas’s last name wasn’t merely a name—it was a designation. “May I ask you a question?” she said before she could talk herself out of it. Notwithstanding her awareness of his nature, her interest in him continued to heighten. And each time she gave in to the need, it created another chip in the already fragile wall of her sanity. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself.

He paused in front of the door that likely led to the construction supervisor’s workspace. “Ask.”

“What does a Hunter do?” She’d heard rumors on the PsyNet but changelings were very closemouthed about some things.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to barter something special to get that information.”

The slow curve of his smile shot her composure to pieces. “What would you like to know?”

He answered almost on top of her words. “What’s the incidence of violence in the Psy population?”

She hadn’t expected the question but the answer was easy and well known. “Close to zero.”

“Are you sure?” The question echoed in the air. “As for what Hunters do, we hunt down rogues.”

“Rogues?”

“Sorry, darling. You only paid for one answer.” He pushed open the door.

Frustrated, she walked in and found herself standing a heartbeat away from a dark-skinned man with eyes a deeper shade of green than Lucas’s. Something about him made her want to take a step back . . . and run.

“Meet Clay Bennett, our construction supervisor.”

Sascha knew the changeling in front of her was much more than that. “Mr. Bennett.” The man’s eyes were so calm that she should’ve felt at home with him. Instead he reminded her of a cobra lulling his prey into a false sense of security—the second she lowered her guard, he’d instigate a deadly strike.

“Ms. Duncan. I’m the man you come to if you have any problems with the materials used during construction, the workers, anything like that.”

“I’ve noted that.” She looked around the huge office space, which housed a number of desks. Glass doors made up the facing wall but she could see Zara to the left and an unknown blond male at a desk to the right. He wasn’t looking at her, but somehow she knew that he was completely attuned to their conversation. “Do those doors open?”

“Of course,” Lucas drawled. “We’re animals under the skin—we can’t stand being caged.” She knew he was mocking the simplistic Psy view of changelings, mocking her. The urge to give back as good as she got was a devil on her shoulder—a mad part of her thought it might almost be worth it simply to see the look on his face.

“What about the higher floors?” She answered her own question the second she looked outside. “The trees. Leopards are excellent climbers.”

Lucas went unnaturally still beside her. “You’ve done your research.”

“Of course. I’m Psy.”

A few minutes
later, Sascha closed the door of the lavatory, put down the lid, and sat. Her whole body shuddered. What a joke. She was no Psy. She was a woman close to the edge of insanity, reduced to hiding in toilets in order to repair the fractured walls of her mind.

Her organizer chimed before she’d done more than gather together the ragged edges of her psyche. It was Santano Enrique, requesting a conference on the PsyNet. The inside of her mouth suddenly felt like it had been stuffed full of cotton wool.

Enrique was too powerful a Psy, had had too many years of experience at spotting mistakes. She didn’t want him connected to her in any way. None of the other Councilors had ever approached her telepathically or on the PsyNet—they preferred to talk face-to-face if necessary. She knew why, of course. They weren’t sure that she hadn’t inherited her mother’s deadly little ability.

Refusing Enrique’s call wasn’t an option. Hurriedly completing the repairs on her shields, she closed her eyes and took a step into darkness. The glittering plane of the PsyNet opened before her, filled with the endless stars, bright and faded, large and small, that represented the minds of the Psy. Enrique blazed and so did she. They were both cardinals. The crucial difference was, she had no real power, while he could pulverize her with a thought.

His consciousness was waiting for her. “Thank you for coming, Sascha.”

“I can’t stay long, sir. I’m in the midst of a delicate situation for which I need my full attention.” While in the Net, she couldn’t even allow herself to think that what she was saying was a lie. She had to believe absolutely.

“The deal with the changelings.”

It wasn’t a question so she didn’t answer.

“An interesting choice. Unusual. Why did you decide to do what the rest of the families haven’t?”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not permitted to discuss our business practices. Please speak to my mother—she’s the head of our household.” Nikita had officially achieved that pinnacle in 2075 when Sascha’s grandmother, Reina, had died. In truth, Nikita had been the power behind the throne for almost ten years prior to that.

“I had the impression you’d been granted more independence.”

If they’d come from anyone but a Psy, she would’ve said that the words were meant to prick her pride and make her speak without thinking. Unless, of course, that was his plan. Was that why he was paying her so much attention suddenly—because he suspected she was flawed?

All these frantic thoughts buzzed in a small, secret part of her. It was the same place where she hid the core of her self—the shining rainbow of her mind. Layered in multiple shields she continually reinforced, it couldn’t be breached by anyone without using such brutal force that it would kill her.

“Would you like me to link you to my mother?”

“No, Sascha. I wanted to ask you a favor.”

Fear spiked in that small, secret heart. “What, sir?” This had to be a trap. Why would a Councilor, a cardinal with off-the-scale Tk powers, be asking her for a favor?

“You’ll be coming into a lot of contact with changelings during this project. I’d like you to pass me any new information you discover about them.”

It was the last thing she’d expected. “I’d be happy to do so, sir, but—”

“Think carefully, Sascha. There could be . . . benefits for you. Some of us are starting to think it’s past time we utilized you properly.”

It was a bribe, pure and simple. Her hunger to finally be accepted and valued as a cardinal urged her to accept the offer and not look back. Conversely, that very hunger also made her aware that no matter how much she tried, she’d never be normal. Getting closer to the Council would only increase her chances of being exposed.

The ashes of lost dreams floated to her feet and in the deepest, most hidden core of her soul, she cried. Only years of Psy training and a desperate desire to hide the truth of her broken mind had her answering logically. “They’re understandably cautious around me. I’m not sure I’ll discover anything.” It was a lie. Already she knew so much no Psy had ever known, but she found herself unable to give up their secrets . . . Lucas’s secrets.

“They’re animals. Treat them well and they’ll start to trust you.” It was evident he thought trust a weakness.

Sascha saw it as a gift. “I’d be happy to cooperate but first I have to—”

“I’ve already cleared this with Nikita.” Enrique neatly cut her off.

“Then I’ll get the information to you.”

“I’d like to meet you once a day for briefings.”

Sascha was beyond scared now. She didn’t want Enrique evaluating her daily. “I’m sorry, sir. That could interfere with my work and I’m sure Mother wouldn’t like that. I’ll contact you as soon as I have anything worth sharing.” It was a daring statement and if she’d allowed herself to feel, she would’ve been trembling.

Enrique’s presence on the PsyNet was a pure white star, so cold that she wanted to shiver. “Don’t wait too long.”

“Is that all, sir?”

“For now.”

Sascha dropped out of the PsyNet and immediately contacted the head of her household as any good Psy would do. She could telepath without problem at this range, which at least gave her relief from keeping constant vigilance over her consciousness. During telepathic communications, neither party could “see” the other.

As soon as Nikita answered, she outlined Enrique’s requests, hugging her arms so tight around her body that she almost bruised her own ribs. If her mother told her to keep those daily meetings . . .

Enrique has overstepped his bounds
. Nikita’s mental voice was frigid.
I gave him permission to solicit information, not tie you to a schedule
.

Relief threatened to turn her limbs to jelly.
Mother, I think it would be preferable if I gave you any pertinent information and you . . . shared it with Enrique
. The pause was calculated. Nikita enjoyed being in a position of power.
You’re the head of the household—I should be reporting to you first in any case
.

Nikita was silent for a couple of seconds.
I’d already considered that. Unfortunately, Enrique is too strong to defy without consequences. And he wants to talk to you
.

Perhaps,
Sascha said, thinking desperately,
you could imply to him that I find dealing with his powerful presence too much on top of my first independent project
.

Now you’re thinking like a Duncan
. Nikita was clearly pleased.
He can’t argue with me for trying to protect the deal
.

The deal, Sascha thought, not her daughter. Even though she should’ve been used to the heartlessness of the Psy after a lifetime of living with them, she felt a sharp stab of hurt.
Then I’m free to concentrate on the development and keep you up to speed?

Yes
.

With that, Nikita was gone. Sascha allowed herself a huge sigh of relief and dropped her head into her hands. Something was wrong. It wasn’t paranoia. Why was Enrique suddenly so concerned with a failed cardinal most of the Psy ignored? Doubly troubling was the extent of Nikita’s cooperation with the other Councilor.

Her gut twisted. She had a feeling she was being used as a pawn in a game for which she didn’t know the rules. What worried her even more was that she didn’t know the consequences of checkmate . . . or how to stop it.

Suddenly realizing she’d been sitting there staring into nothingness, she stood up and only then did the ridiculousness of her situation strike her. She’d just had conversations with two members of the Council while sitting on the closed lid of a toilet. The thought had her stifling giggles as she lifted the lid and opened the door.

When she checked her appearance in the mirror above the basin, she was surprised to find that nothing betrayed her slight case of hysteria. Her physical masks were holding, even as the mental ones broke down piece by piece. Glancing at her timepiece, she saw that she’d been in here for almost thirty minutes. The changelings would be full of questions and she’d better have answers for them.

Before heading out, she ensured that she looked exactly as she should—every hair on her head smoothed into a tight braid, the cuffs of her dark gray suit perfectly aligned, and her face so calm that she almost convinced herself her stomach wasn’t tied up in knots.

Nobody was in the corridor but heads turned the instant she walked back into the room used by Clay Bennett and the others. One particular pair of green eyes tracked her every move. “I apologize for keeping you waiting,” she said, before anyone could speak. “I was called into conference.”

Lucas tapped at the side of his head with a finger. “That kind of conference?” His lips curved.

She wanted to tease him back so badly. “Yes.”

“Strange place for one,” Kit remarked, tongue in cheek. It was a measure of her distraction that it took the comment for her to notice the young male who’d entered the room in her absence.

She couldn’t help herself. “In what way?”

Kit stopped looking through some papers on Clay’s desk and stared at her. When she calmly stared back, he started to turn red, looking as young and adorable as the two cubs she’d been allowed to touch. “Um, well . . . d-don’t you . . . I have to get these upstairs.” He grabbed what looked like a random pile of papers and almost ran from the room.

“You should be more merciful—he’s only recently grown out of being a cub.” Lucas’s chuckle held real amusement.

She fought not to let her lips twitch. “I was merely asking a question.”

His eyes narrowed. “Sure you were.”

“When do you consider your children full grown?” she asked, trying to get him to stop thinking about her impulsive decision to tease Kit.

An odd tension seemed to infiltrate the room.

“Sugar for sugar, darling.” The Hunter marks were starkly beautiful against the stillness of his expression.