Heart of Obsidian

Page 27

“Sahara.” Blinding recognition before he dragged her into his arms, holding on so tight she couldn’t breathe. Her heart splintered with love. No, she wouldn’t be disowned, not by this man who held her as if she were a treasure, the scent of him a mingling of the clinic where he treated the children of the clan and the smuggled coffee he drank in secret.
It was the scent of home.
“It’s you.” Voice hoarse, he relaxed his hold enough that he could look into her face. “It’s you.”
“Hello, Father.” She let the tears fall, the knot choking up her throat making her voice near soundless. “I’m not the same as I was.”
“You’re home. That’s what matters. And your father,” he murmured, a sheen in his own eyes, “is not the same as he was, either. Losing a child alters a man in ways that can never be undone.”
Tears turning into sobs, she clung to him, as she couldn’t cling to the years forever lost. She didn’t know how long they stood there, but when he pulled her into the house, Sahara turned to say good-bye to Kaleb . . . except the night stood desolate and alone, the deadly telekinetic who’d brought her home gone as if he’d never existed.
Chapter 20
ADEN WAS IN Venice, having completed a discussion with the leader of the rebel Arrow cell in the city, when his cell phone rang with an incoming call from Kaleb Krychek.
“What progress have you made in discovering the identity of the individual behind the leak in Perth?” Kaleb asked, and it was a question Aden had expected earlier. However, and but for his recent rescue efforts, Kaleb had been uncharacteristically quiet over the past two months.
“Considerable,” Aden replied, thinking of all the Arrow tails the cardinal Tk had eluded in those months as he slipped in and out of distant parts of the PsyNet. “His name is Allan Dawes and thirty- six hours ago, just as we were closing in, he disappeared both from his physical life and from the PsyNet. It’s certain he’s being hidden by telepaths with more advanced training within Pure Psy.” It wouldn’t save the middle-aged male, simply delay the inevitable.
Kaleb’s response made it clear he had the same expectation. “I’m changing my earlier order. Bring him to me. I want to have a personal discussion with Mr. Dawes.”
“I’ll arrange the transfer once he’s in the custody of the squad.” Hanging up, Aden relayed the request to his partner.
“You think Kaleb may be working with Pure Psy,” Vasic said, his eyes on the canal not far in front of them, the water a broken mirror as a result of the early morning rain that fell in hard sheets.
Protected from the downpour by the overhang of the building where they stood, Aden slid away his cell phone. “Krychek is driven by power,” he said, having never had any illusions about the other male’s motivations. “If Pure Psy succeeds in totally destabilizing the current power structure, it’ll leave a vacuum only Krychek will be strong enough to fill.”
Vasic was silent for a long time, the sound of the rain hitting the canal water muted thunder.
“Krychek,” he said at last, “has the strength to wrench control of the Net on his own.”
“But then,” Aden pointed out, “he’d have to fight to hold on to it. Far better to come to leadership as a savior, a hero.”
Vasic nodded. “We watch him. Even a dual cardinal can be killed if it proves necessary.”
Aden knew that if that decision were ever made, they’d have only a single shot at taking Krychek unawares. Failure would mean death for the entire squad. “We watch him,” he agreed as the rain slanted to hit the ground at his feet, flicking droplets onto his regulation black combat boots.
Chapter 21
SAHARA COULDN’T HAVE better timed her return.
Sleep was out of the question for either her or her father that night, both of them unable to let one another out of their sight.
“I have a scheduled day off today from my duties at the medical center,” her father told her the next morning. “No one will come looking.”
By silent agreement, they stayed inside, putting off the moment they’d have to speak to Anthony— her paternal uncle and the head of NightStar. Though they discussed a myriad of subjects, her father didn’t ask probing questions, didn’t force her to speak of things she didn’t want to speak about.
He was simply happy to have her home.
They talked of family, and of the changes in the world that had led to the clan setting startling new protocols in place when it came to the gifted and troubled F designation. “Faith’s defection taught us that we were wrong to follow the rules handed down to us after the inception of Silence.”
Voice somber, he drank a sip of the nutrient drink he’d mixed for them both. “As a medic, I genuinely believed the actions we took lowered the risk of mental degradation for the Fs. So did Anthony. It’s why he permitted Faith to be trained as she was. To find out that we might have been driving her, driving all of the Fs, toward the madness we intended to thwart . . . it shook the foundations of the family.”
Sahara trusted her father in this as she’d trust no one else—he was a true healer at heart, had long ago adopted the human oath of “first do no harm,” the plaque with the complete pledge hanging in his office. “I’ve missed so much,” she said, anger bright and new awakening in her blood. “Had so much stolen from me.”
“You have a lifetime ahead of you,” her father said, closing his hand over her own. “You also have a father, and a PsyClan who will back you every step of the way.”
Her father, she realized, her eyes on the freckled cream of his skin against her own, had always made casual contact, especially after the discovery of her shadow ability. Never had he treated her as a leper, and in so doing, he’d helped her maintain her sense of humanity. Kaleb, too, she realized with a sense of wonder, had never repudiated her touch, though he’d always been aware of the risk she posed.
“Don’t. You’ll regret it.”
“I would never.”
Her answer hadn’t changed, would never change, but examined in the cold light of day, the unadulterated emotional fury of her refusal was a mystery. Not once— not once—had she been tempted to use her ability on him, though it would’ve fundamentally altered the balance of power.
Even the idea of it made her feel nauseated.
“Your memories,” her father said, cutting through the visceral reaction. “How damaged are they?
There are medical telepaths who may be—”
“No,” she interrupted. “I don’t want anyone inside my head.” At her father’s immediate nod of understanding, she added, “And I have almost everything.” It was a lie, but how could she tell him that the biggest, most important piece was missing?
A piece named Kaleb.
It was hours later that they gave in to tiredness at last. Entering her bedroom, Sahara found a box of clothing Kaleb had clearly ’ported in, along with a cell phone encoded with his direct lines.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Changing into a loose T-shirt that happened to be at the top of the box, she slipped into her old single bed. Her rest was dreamless, and she woke the next morning ready to face the clan. Soon as she and her father had both breakfasted, they headed to Anthony’s office. The central NightStar compound, the homes built to blend into their surroundings, had always had larger areas of open and green space than was usual in Psy complexes, but those areas had been further expanded during her time in captivity, a number of leafy trees providing dappled shade.
Eyes widened when they landed on her, the shock too great to suppress, but no one attempted to stop their progress. When they reached the office, Anthony’s assistant, an older woman Sahara recognized from before her abduction, waved them in without questions. The head of the PsyClan, black hair silvered at the temples, came around his desk as they entered, his gaze direct, unwavering.
“Leon.” A nod to acknowledge his younger half brother before he returned his attention to her.
“Sahara. You look well.”
Yes, she did. Thanks to the care of the most deadly cardinal on the planet, her face wasn’t gaunt, her body slender but healthy. She knew, however, that her physical health wasn’t at the top of Anthony’s list of priorities. “I don’t know,” she said, “if my rescuer embedded any treacherous tendencies in me, but I believe not.” Kaleb didn’t need to control her in that fashion. And—“My ability means I would’ve been aware of any such attempts at mental coercion.”
“Does your rescuer have a name?”
She told him, having informed her father ahead of time.
“I see.” Walking back around the desk, Anthony retook his seat, waving for them to do the same.
“According to the PsyNet, you don’t exist.”
“Good.” Her father’s response was fierce. “It means she’s safe from any further attempts to abduct and cage her, even if it is Krychek doing the protecting.”
“Agreed.” Anthony leaned back in the black leather of his chair. “Do you know the identity of the individual or individuals behind your captivity?”
Sahara hadn’t discussed this with Kaleb but saw no reason why he’d want the truth kept secret— and it was the truth, of that she had no doubt. Kaleb did not lie to her. “Tatiana Rika-Smythe.”
No surprise in Anthony’s expression, nothing but the penetrating intellect of a man at the head of one of the most influential families in the Net. “Did Kaleb mention why he rescued you?”
Sahara hesitated . . . and then she lied. “It was a challenge, and NightStar now owes him a significant favor.” What was between her and Kaleb was between her and Kaleb. She’d allow no one else to interfere with the raw, passionate relationship formed of hidden memories and the charm bracelet she wore concealed under her simple white shirt, a talisman of strength from a man who might be her greatest, deepest weakness. “The psychic cost of the exercise, he decided, would be worth the gain.”