Storm echo, p.20
Storm Echo, page 20
“You don’t,” Ivan said. “I’ll find you.”
Then he walked away and over to the shadows on the far side of the encampment, knowing the junkie would be anxious to track down the dealer, make his money. Ivan didn’t particularly care about the dealer, either—oh, he would kill the man, take him out of circulation, and he’d feel no guilt about it. But first, he’d get from him the name of the one higher up the chain, and he would do that again and again until he got to the person at the very top.
“You’ve walked here nearly every night since you’ve been in the city,” said a deep and smooth male voice at his side.
Chapter 31
“Do not steal from empaths. I find any of you doing that shit, we’ll be having a long private conversation in the dark.”
“But what do we do if they just give us stuff? My neighbor E actually full-on threw a sweater at me because it was cold!”
“Yah, man. The other day, this E just stopped me in the street and told me he was taking me out to eat because I needed some TLC. I couldn’t even say no, he had such, like, soft eyes. It’s like they’re witches. Only the kind that isn’t evil.”
—Conversation between gang members caught on Enforcement
surveillance (New York, April 2083)
IVAN DIDN’T STARTLE at Vaughn’s comment; he’d sensed the DarkRiver sentinel prowl up to him, had known something was coming. “No crime in that.”
Vaughn D’Angelo slid his hands into the pockets of the black cargo pants he was wearing today, his upper half clad in a simple olive green T-shirt that hugged his biceps. Lucas Hunter’s right-hand man, Vaughn had hair of amber-gold that he tied back in a queue, and eyes so close to gold that Ivan wondered if they changed when Vaughn shifted form; the sentinel was as lethal a predator as the DarkRiver alpha. Only Vaughn wasn’t a leopard.
That particular fact wasn’t common knowledge, but neither was it a secret. So Ivan’s family knew that Vaughn was a jaguar, one who’d been raised in DarkRiver. “What was it like,” he found himself asking Vaughn, “being a jaguar in a pack of leopards?”
“Worried about our new healer, are you?” Vaughn’s voice held no amusement or open interest, but Ivan didn’t make the mistake of assuming that the man had no strong feelings on the point.
“News travels fast,” he said.
“I’m a sentinel. And DarkRiver works as well as it does because we talk to each other.” Folding his arms, he said, “Why do you come here?”
Ivan considered many answers, discarded all of them, settling for a bland, “I like to walk. It falls within my walking route.”
Unexpectedly, Vaughn allowed his obvious lie to pass. Maybe because he didn’t need to know Ivan’s status as a drug user—or not—in order to keep track of him. Though Ivan was certain that Vaughn wasn’t the one who’d been placed to watch him all this time. He was too senior, would handle matters far more important than keeping track of a lone Mercant who’d done nothing threatening to date.
“Growing up as a jaguar in a leopard pack,” Vaughn said, “it was fine.”
That told Ivan nothing. He didn’t know why Vaughn had decided to speak to him, but it wasn’t to share personal information. Then the jaguar surprised him. “Luc says you’re linked to our new packmate. Not quite a mating bond. What’s that all about?”
Ivan stopped himself from shifting on his feet by sheer force of will. “I saved her life once, that’s all. It’ll pass.”
He could feel the jaguar staring at him. But again, Vaughn let it go. And Ivan remembered that cats were stealthy hunters, could wait for a long time in utter motionlessness before they struck.
Vaughn wasn’t letting anything go; he was just biding his time.
Odd, how many similarities he was discovering between them and his own family. Never would he have predicted that he’d find such parallels with a clan of changelings.
“Make sure you don’t forget that healer when you leave.” The sentinel nodded toward Arwen. “They tend to give until there’s nothing left—but you already know that.”
“Why do you call him a healer?” Arwen’s designation wasn’t a public thing; to most of the world, he was a telepath who worked in marketing and communications for businesses connected to the family.
“I can smell it,” was the deadpan response. “Or it might be that he just gave that addict his thousand-dollar sweater.”
Ivan glanced over, swore under his breath. “I can’t leave him alone for a single minute.”
Vaughn slapped him on the back. “And you’re all but mated to another healer.” A glint in the near-gold of his eyes. “Welcome to the rest of your life.”
As the sentinel melted away into the dark, Ivan went to rescue Arwen. “She’ll just pawn it for money for drugs,” he said to his cousin as the two of them walked away.
“At least she’ll be warm until then.”
Sighing, Ivan began to shrug off his jacket so Arwen could throw it on over his thin tee. But Arwen shook his head. “I’m heading home soon as we get to your place. Meeting with other Es.” He turned those uptilted eyes on Ivan.
“What?” Ivan all but grunted.
“I just want to say something. Please listen.” No lightness now, nothing but the power of an empath.
Ivan gave a curt nod.
“I never read people, not on purpose. I did as a kid, though, before I knew how to control my abilities.”
“That’s not a problem.” Ivan knew too well what it was to have psychic abilities he couldn’t control or didn’t understand.
“Please, Ivan. Listen.” Arwen halted on the street.
Echoing him, Ivan turned to face his cousin.
“I don’t know if it’s because of the accidental reads when I was a child,” Arwen said, “or just because I’ve grown up with you, but I’ve always believed you don’t think you deserve to be happy.”
He continued when Ivan didn’t answer. “I know there are things I don’t know about you.” A wry smile. “You’re all so protective, it would be infuriating if I didn’t love you so much. I’m not a glass vase, you know—I won’t break under hard pressure.”
Shaking his head, he waved away the exasperated complaint. “But no matter what I do or don’t know, I’m very certain of what I feel from you now—an ember of happiness.” Open, unshielded eyes that shone with love unhidden and offered without expectation. “Don’t throw that away.” A whispered plea. “You deserve joy, Ivan. Hold on to her, on to the spark of joy inside your heart.”
IVAN still hadn’t processed Arwen’s words by the time he walked into his apartment alone, Genara having been waiting for Arwen when they arrived. It was just as well that—her friendship with Arwen aside, the telekinetic was about as sociable as Ivan—she’d made no effort to prolong the evening.
Arwen, meanwhile, had simply looked at Ivan, his hope a silent but potent thing.
Strange, how such a gentle being could have so much steel to him when it came to the people he cared about. Then again, he was Ena Mercant’s grandson.
Ivan closed the apartment door behind himself on that thought.
He was used to aloneness, even sought it, but Arwen’s statement had inadvertently torn open a yawning emptiness within. In seeking to help him, his cousin had shown him exactly what he could’ve had if the spider didn’t live in his head, born of toxins so complex that no medic had ever been able to explain the process that had created him.
A mutation.
That was how his DNA had been described in one dry medical report. And that was what he was: a mutated version of normal, one so far off the curve that the curve no longer existed.
Perhaps he’d have risked a relationship with Soleil if the problem had been mere genetics. He’d have explained why they couldn’t procreate together, and asked if she’d be all right with adoption. He knew the answer to his question already; she was a healer, wasn’t she? Big open heart and an inability to do anything other than embrace wounded or lost creatures.
She’d have enfolded those children’s tiny souls in love.
But the problem wasn’t only genetics. The problem was what the genetics had birthed: a bloated and monstrous thing that would swallow everything in its path. Including the obstinate cat who refused to let go of him.
A flexing of claws in his mind, the prowling brush of fur.
Gut tight, he fought against the wonder of that, of a bond primal and raw. The first thing he did when he walked into his bedroom was strip and walk into the shower. He always felt coated in filth after a visit to the halfway house area. He knew the reaction was a psychosomatic one, that there was nothing the users could do that would cling to him—but still, he stood under blazing-hot water with his eyes closed until he felt clean at last.
Not clean enough to touch Soleil, but enough to pass in the outside world.
Then, after rubbing his hair and body dry with a rough towel, he headed to bed. He was tired, needed to recharge. He was on the edge of sleep when he found himself confronted by a cat with eyes of tawny gold. She prowled inside his mind, her fur sliding against his skin, and her claws running lightly over his body.
Ivan didn’t attempt to push out the intruder. His shields down, he admitted that he wanted her here with him. A deadly confession, a deadly need.
SOLEIL kissed Razi’s furry little head and stroked her hand down Natal’s back while the moon and the stars rotated slowly around the room from the night light plugged into a wall socket. It was Razi’s favorite, Yariela had told her, given to her by Lucas when their alpha discovered she wasn’t sleeping, her world full of nightmares.
“He slept in his panther form beside her and Natal for a whole week after we came here,” Soleil’s mentor had said, her eyes drenched with devotion for her new alpha. “He didn’t leave until she was able to sleep the night through two nights in a row.
“I worried his mate would be angry with us for stealing so much of his time, but oh, Leilei, she’s a healer, too. One of the Psy empaths with the stars in her eyes. Their niñita is much younger than Razi, but she’s a fierce little panther, protective of Razi in a way you’ll have to see to believe.”
Laughter. “The twins are insistent that little Naya is their baby. And she’s insistent that she isn’t a baby!” Cheeks creasing, she’d said, “I would pity those boys in the years to come, for she’s not built to accept their protective tendencies, but I have a feeling all three will be quite the hellions together—and they’re teaching our cubs how to be ferocious and naughty, too.”
Only those who’d lived under the subtle suffocation of SkyElm’s negligent alpha could understand the value of that gift. The rot had begun with Soleil’s alpha grandfather, but Monroe had taken it to the next level, until it poisoned their pack. But these two babies would grow up wild and free, sneaking out of windows and, as they grew older, probably sneaking into windows.
The thought made her smile as she petted each cub once more. Razi and Natal had insisted that she put them to bed, giving her heart another boost of sheer joy. Though the Ryders had another spare room the cubs could’ve used, Tamsyn had told her that the two always preferred to bunk with the twins.
“We weren’t ready for them the first time they stayed over,” the healer had said, “and threw together a big fluffy futon for them in between the boys’ beds. Next thing you know, it’s morning and all four of them are on that futon.”
Feline delight in her eyes, the healer had leaned in close, her inner warmth a kiss of love that surrounded Soleil. “I should’ve known. The cat in me still wants to jump onto the futon with them, and the boys are waging a campaign to get futons for their beds when they outgrow their current ones.”
Tonight, the twins had gone to sleep in their own beds … or she thought they had. Until she glanced over to her right and saw dark blue eyes looking at her. She knew this cub’s name now, though she could only distinguish him from his brother by his pajamas. “Why aren’t you asleep, Roman?” she whispered.
A sweet, sweet smile, and then he held out his arms for a hug. Heart so melted by now it was just goo, she moved to sit on his bed so she could cuddle him, too. His hair was silky soft and still smelled of the shampoo from that night’s bath, his arms warm and unexpectedly strong.
When he let go, he snuggled back down into bed, blinked sleepily for a couple of seconds … and was asleep with cub rapidity. An adorable little snore escaped him a moment later, had her pressing a hand to her heart. She made sure his blanket was tucked snugly around him, checked one last time on the other three cubs, then made herself leave the room.
A hallway light glowed softly to light her way, but the rest of the house was quiet. Tamsyn had given her the room directly opposite the children’s, so she was soon changing into a sleep tee she’d borrowed from Tamsyn. The rest of her nighttime routine didn’t take long, and her body sighed when she hit the bed.
The bedding was plush and soft, and below the fresh scent of washing powder, it held the scent of the Ryder family. Impossible for it not to, when it was in their home that she slept.
Pack. They were her pack.
Their scent was comfort.
As was his.
The sophisticated, beautiful, dangerous Psy who’d saved her life, then brought her home. Cool and deadly though his scent might be, it didn’t scare her in the least. How could it when she knew beyond any doubt that he would never hurt her? She might not remember their first meeting, but the knowledge of who he was to her was there in their every interaction—and even in the infuriating way he kept on trying to warn her off.
Soleil scowled and turned onto her back to stare up at the ceiling.
Her cat prowled inside her skin, not happy at being so far from him, even unhappier about the fact that he’d walked into the dark alone.
She might’ve lain awake for hours had her body and mind not been shattered after the events of the day; the deluge of joy after the pain she’d carried for so long, it had smashed every one of her foundations.
Sleep crashed over her in a silent black wave.
She bit back the whimper that wanted to escape as her heavy eyelids closed despite her attempts to keep them open. With sleep came the ghosts of all those she hadn’t been able to save. They stared at her with dark, accusing eyes, their faces pale in death and their bodies bloodied and broken.
“I’m sorry.” A faint whisper before her exhausted body and mind shut down, dropping her deep into the abyss.
Chapter 32
Re: Query about the remains of Norah Mercant
As per standard operating procedure for deceased found in such circumstances, she was cremated within two hours of discovery. Her cremains are due for final destruction tomorrow. Please advise if you wish to collect and make your own arrangements for disposal.
—Bureau of Death and Family Notification Services (10 May 2059, 11:02 a.m.)
Re: Query about the remains of Norah Mercant
Yes, we will collect the cremains. A teleport-capable Tk will be arriving at 11:15 a.m.
—Ena Mercant (10 May 2059, 11:04 a.m.)
“Ivan, we have your mother. Would you like to bury her in our private cemetery? The authorities are unaware of it and she won’t be disturbed there.”
“Is she ash, Grandmother? She told me the death guard makes people like us into ash.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it was done before I was ever notified. You won’t be able to see her again. I’m sorry for that.”
“She wasn’t inside there anymore. She was hollow.”
“The respect we give to the dead is not to the hollow shells left behind, but to the people they were in life. And she was your mother. I know you’re angry with her, but that is also why such ceremonies are important: they allow us to create a line between what has been and what is to come.”
“She always wanted to see the sea. She heard about it, but she never saw it. Can we take her there?”
—Conversation between Ena Mercant and Ivan Mercant (10 May 2059, 12 noon)
SOLEIL KNEW SHE was sleeping, but she still couldn’t stop the dreams from unfurling. They always began the same way, with bloody claws ripping away the soothing nothingness of rest, to expose faces and bodies and a world that shimmered gray with fog.
It had been foggy that morning when it all went so terribly wrong.
She’d been frowning as she walked through the trees, the cool brush of the fog against her skin and her cat alert inside her. Her head had been full of worry about the man with pale eyes who she’d had to leave with no warning. He was so important to her, and he’d think she’d left because she didn’t want him. She had to fix that, had to—
Her chest clutched, her breathing speeding up.
The fog was whispering away, the dead ready to confront and accuse her.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whimpered in her dreams. “I’m so sorry.”
But the boy who stood in front of her wasn’t bloody or broken or gray. He was warm with life, his eyes a piercing pale hue and his hair wind-tousled black. “Why are you sorry?” he asked. “You didn’t kill her. She killed herself.”
Trembling, she went to go to her knees so they’d be at the same height … but they already were, her body as small as his, and her hands delicate and childish. “What’s happening?”
A frown marring that smooth brow, he looked down at the hands she’d spread out in front of herself, then lifted his own hands. “Regression?” he muttered. “Dream mechanics.” He didn’t sound like a child.
Soleil couldn’t help it. She poked him with a finger … and jerked it back as fast when she felt flesh and bone. Looking down at the spot on his shoulder that she’d touched, he frowned again, then looked back at her, so solemn and serious that it made her sad.
“Why do you have green hair?”
Her hand jerked up, touched the strands. “I got paint in it today.” No, not today. A long time ago, when she’d still had a family of her own, including a mother who’d delighted in allowing her to play wild. “My mother let me do anything I wanted.”
