Silver Silence
Page 70
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He lasted ten seconds before taking her hand and pressing a kiss on her palm. “Are you still in the PsyNet?”
“Yes.” Stunned surprise, followed by a pause. “It’s strange—I can see a bond to you, I know you’re at the other end, but it disappears into the fabric of the PsyNet like it’s entering a part of the psychic plane I can’t access.”
The terrible, disobedient Mercant who owned him body and soul kissed his neck. “People say the psychic plane is alive, that the neosentience that guards it makes more decisions than we know. Maybe it decided I needed to stay in the PsyNet.”
Valentin had nothing to add to that, but he did have certain things to say to his mate. Flipping over onto his back with a speed that meant he caught her before she tumbled off, he glared at her. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
A cool-eyed glance. “Yes, Valyusha. I’ve loved you.”
And damn his heart, it melted all over again. “You may have killed yourself.”
“No.” A single—and very alpha—word. “The chances of my survival are infinitesimal. I weighed all the factors and decided I’d rather know what it is to belong to you than reject that gift because it might gain me a little more time.”
He gripped her arms, shook her. Gently. Very gently. “Stubborn, willful, infuriating—”
“Stop calling yourself names.”
“Argh!” Driven to distraction, he hauled her down to his mouth and kissed her wet and deep and angry.
She took it, gave back as good as she got. His mate was Silver Fucking Mercant.
The Human Patriot
HE LOOKED AT the data HAPMA had sent him, saw the e-mail exchange with Bowen Knight, and felt his gut clench. Damn it. Bowen had always been a good man; he’d done more to raise humanity’s profile and increase their strength than anyone.
He sent HAPMA a quick reply: Do not harm him. He can still be saved.
He didn’t believe Bowen had been psychically compromised. The other man had an experimental chip in his brain that blocked psychic interference. No, Bowen was simply being led astray by Psy he thought he could trust. Yes, the empaths were probably trustworthy—they were the only Psy the Patriot had any time for—but the empaths were getting their information from others.
Their leader, Ivy Jane Zen, apparently sat on the Psy Ruling Coalition, but who was her lover but Vasic Zen—a member of a death squad that was attempting to rebrand itself as heroic. Loyal as empaths were known to be, she’d probably accept anything he told her as gospel and pass that on to her fellow empaths.
Bowen should’ve known that the empaths’ information had to be treated as compromised.
HAPMA responded to his message: He must be made to see reason.
Yes, the Patriot wrote back. Bowen is too important to lose, but there are others around him who are disposable. That was how the Psy thought of humans, after all. I will make him see that the future holds only pain if he trusts the Psy.
How?
The Patriot wasn’t beholden to HAPMA, but he answered because they were dogs on a leash who had to be kept fed so they could be controlled. There must be no hint of HAPMA involvement. We’re going to pin this on the Psy. It’d take some planning, but he was good at that. Do not waste this opportunity by being impatient. I’ll handle it personally. When I’m done, Bowen Knight will hate the Psy to his dying day.
The Patriot’s eye fell on the image of Lily Knight that he had on the pinboard he used to map out his plans, her uptilted eyes a huge dove gray in a fine-boned face framed by a blunt black bob. Picking up a red marker, he used it to X out her image. “Sorry, Lily, but your death will ignite his fire, make him realize that he can trust only those of his own race.”
Chapter 35
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
—From Hamlet by the human artist William Shakespeare (seventeenth century)
SILVER SLEPT DEEPLY that night, peaceful in a way she’d never been. She’d made her choices and she would stand by them. Neither her grandmother nor Arwen had contacted her. Though she’d shielded the bond with Valentin the instant it formed, they would’ve known nonetheless. Even if her grandmother had somehow missed the change in Silver, Arwen wouldn’t have.
Yet he hadn’t contacted her.
She smiled. Of course he hadn’t. He was an empath and he was her brother. He understood that this time was precious. Arwen rarely went against Grandmother, but he had a spine as steely as Silver’s when required; he’d no doubt made Ena agree to keep her distance, too.
She’d talk to them both, but not now.
This morning was for lying skin to skin with Valentin while the clan woke around them. She could hear many voices, could still make out the individual conversations, but the pressure, it was building. It was just as well that Valentin had made her get in touch with Ashaya Aleine the previous night, both of them aware Aleine would be awake—it had been early afternoon in San Francisco by the time they returned to Denhome.
The scientist had been shocked to learn of Silver’s secret, had promised to keep it. “I can re-create the implant for single-brain use,” she’d said, a shadow of horror in the blue-gray of her gaze as she revealed her own secret, one that could make her a target for the likes of Ming LeBon.
“I can’t forget the details,” the scientist had added, “no matter how hard I try.” Folding her arms over the deep green of her long-sleeved top, she’d said, “Before anything, I need thorough scans of your brain—and I have to be there to supervise those scans, to ensure we get the necessary information.”
It was then that Silver had made a decision that held nothing of logic. “Not tonight, Ashaya. I need tonight.”
Expression softening with the knowledge of a woman who understood exactly the loss Silver was facing, Ashaya hadn’t argued. “In the morning your time is soon enough. I’ll spend the time till then resurrecting the specifics of the chip with Amara.”
A pregnant pause had followed. “I also need the scans to make sure you’re telling the truth. The only reason I’ve taken your words on faith to this point is because you’re mated to an alpha my own mate and my alpha both trust. I need to know I’m not creating something that could be used to do harm.”
“I understand. The implant is a piece of tech many would kill to possess.” Especially the modification that permitted certain chipped individuals to control the minds of others who were similarly implanted.
“If you’ve seen the classified files, you know there’s also a serious degradation issue.” Ashaya had rubbed her forehead. “So while I can re-create the chip, I won’t be putting it in your brain—that’d be a death sentence. We’ll use the chip as a starting point to create a solution tailored to your needs.”
“Is a solution possible?”
“We never begin a project assuming we’ll fail.”
It was akin to Silver’s own philosophy. “My audio input is increasing hourly.”
“Amara and I will make this our priority.” Shadows under her eyes. “I’m currently banging my head against a brick wall in another time-critical project, going around in circles. This may help me think in different patterns that could save more lives than just your own.”
“Yes.” Stunned surprise, followed by a pause. “It’s strange—I can see a bond to you, I know you’re at the other end, but it disappears into the fabric of the PsyNet like it’s entering a part of the psychic plane I can’t access.”
The terrible, disobedient Mercant who owned him body and soul kissed his neck. “People say the psychic plane is alive, that the neosentience that guards it makes more decisions than we know. Maybe it decided I needed to stay in the PsyNet.”
Valentin had nothing to add to that, but he did have certain things to say to his mate. Flipping over onto his back with a speed that meant he caught her before she tumbled off, he glared at her. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
A cool-eyed glance. “Yes, Valyusha. I’ve loved you.”
And damn his heart, it melted all over again. “You may have killed yourself.”
“No.” A single—and very alpha—word. “The chances of my survival are infinitesimal. I weighed all the factors and decided I’d rather know what it is to belong to you than reject that gift because it might gain me a little more time.”
He gripped her arms, shook her. Gently. Very gently. “Stubborn, willful, infuriating—”
“Stop calling yourself names.”
“Argh!” Driven to distraction, he hauled her down to his mouth and kissed her wet and deep and angry.
She took it, gave back as good as she got. His mate was Silver Fucking Mercant.
The Human Patriot
HE LOOKED AT the data HAPMA had sent him, saw the e-mail exchange with Bowen Knight, and felt his gut clench. Damn it. Bowen had always been a good man; he’d done more to raise humanity’s profile and increase their strength than anyone.
He sent HAPMA a quick reply: Do not harm him. He can still be saved.
He didn’t believe Bowen had been psychically compromised. The other man had an experimental chip in his brain that blocked psychic interference. No, Bowen was simply being led astray by Psy he thought he could trust. Yes, the empaths were probably trustworthy—they were the only Psy the Patriot had any time for—but the empaths were getting their information from others.
Their leader, Ivy Jane Zen, apparently sat on the Psy Ruling Coalition, but who was her lover but Vasic Zen—a member of a death squad that was attempting to rebrand itself as heroic. Loyal as empaths were known to be, she’d probably accept anything he told her as gospel and pass that on to her fellow empaths.
Bowen should’ve known that the empaths’ information had to be treated as compromised.
HAPMA responded to his message: He must be made to see reason.
Yes, the Patriot wrote back. Bowen is too important to lose, but there are others around him who are disposable. That was how the Psy thought of humans, after all. I will make him see that the future holds only pain if he trusts the Psy.
How?
The Patriot wasn’t beholden to HAPMA, but he answered because they were dogs on a leash who had to be kept fed so they could be controlled. There must be no hint of HAPMA involvement. We’re going to pin this on the Psy. It’d take some planning, but he was good at that. Do not waste this opportunity by being impatient. I’ll handle it personally. When I’m done, Bowen Knight will hate the Psy to his dying day.
The Patriot’s eye fell on the image of Lily Knight that he had on the pinboard he used to map out his plans, her uptilted eyes a huge dove gray in a fine-boned face framed by a blunt black bob. Picking up a red marker, he used it to X out her image. “Sorry, Lily, but your death will ignite his fire, make him realize that he can trust only those of his own race.”
Chapter 35
Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love.
—From Hamlet by the human artist William Shakespeare (seventeenth century)
SILVER SLEPT DEEPLY that night, peaceful in a way she’d never been. She’d made her choices and she would stand by them. Neither her grandmother nor Arwen had contacted her. Though she’d shielded the bond with Valentin the instant it formed, they would’ve known nonetheless. Even if her grandmother had somehow missed the change in Silver, Arwen wouldn’t have.
Yet he hadn’t contacted her.
She smiled. Of course he hadn’t. He was an empath and he was her brother. He understood that this time was precious. Arwen rarely went against Grandmother, but he had a spine as steely as Silver’s when required; he’d no doubt made Ena agree to keep her distance, too.
She’d talk to them both, but not now.
This morning was for lying skin to skin with Valentin while the clan woke around them. She could hear many voices, could still make out the individual conversations, but the pressure, it was building. It was just as well that Valentin had made her get in touch with Ashaya Aleine the previous night, both of them aware Aleine would be awake—it had been early afternoon in San Francisco by the time they returned to Denhome.
The scientist had been shocked to learn of Silver’s secret, had promised to keep it. “I can re-create the implant for single-brain use,” she’d said, a shadow of horror in the blue-gray of her gaze as she revealed her own secret, one that could make her a target for the likes of Ming LeBon.
“I can’t forget the details,” the scientist had added, “no matter how hard I try.” Folding her arms over the deep green of her long-sleeved top, she’d said, “Before anything, I need thorough scans of your brain—and I have to be there to supervise those scans, to ensure we get the necessary information.”
It was then that Silver had made a decision that held nothing of logic. “Not tonight, Ashaya. I need tonight.”
Expression softening with the knowledge of a woman who understood exactly the loss Silver was facing, Ashaya hadn’t argued. “In the morning your time is soon enough. I’ll spend the time till then resurrecting the specifics of the chip with Amara.”
A pregnant pause had followed. “I also need the scans to make sure you’re telling the truth. The only reason I’ve taken your words on faith to this point is because you’re mated to an alpha my own mate and my alpha both trust. I need to know I’m not creating something that could be used to do harm.”
“I understand. The implant is a piece of tech many would kill to possess.” Especially the modification that permitted certain chipped individuals to control the minds of others who were similarly implanted.
“If you’ve seen the classified files, you know there’s also a serious degradation issue.” Ashaya had rubbed her forehead. “So while I can re-create the chip, I won’t be putting it in your brain—that’d be a death sentence. We’ll use the chip as a starting point to create a solution tailored to your needs.”
“Is a solution possible?”
“We never begin a project assuming we’ll fail.”
It was akin to Silver’s own philosophy. “My audio input is increasing hourly.”
“Amara and I will make this our priority.” Shadows under her eyes. “I’m currently banging my head against a brick wall in another time-critical project, going around in circles. This may help me think in different patterns that could save more lives than just your own.”
