Allegiance of Honor

  "Hey, talk to me," he said to his own sister, the tiny girl his parents had brought home when she was a scared two-year-old orphan. According to his father, Bo had taken one look at her and loudly proclaimed he'd keep her safe. He'd done that, would continue to do it. Even if his implant went nova, what they found in his brain after death might finish what he'd begun. "Lilybit."

  Lily's hand clutched at the back of his T-shirt at the sound of the childhood nickname. "You should've let me have the implant at the same time, too."

  It had been a difficult decision for Bo to ask Lily to wait. He hadn't wanted his sister vulnerable to unscrupulous Psy, but the risk of the implant had been significant enough to sway him. "You know we had to do it in stages, iron out the bugs." So if the worst happened, the Alliance wouldn't lose all of its strongest.

  Lily had received her implant eight weeks after his, was still in the safe removal zone should she choose to make that choice. He knew she wouldn't, but he hoped Ashaya and the others would find an answer before it was too late for her. Not only because Lily was his baby sister, but because while his sister was formed of delicate lines, she had a steely spirit that would carry the Alliance through if he fell. But even steel bent under unbearable pressure, and today his sister crumpled into him, sobs shaking her body.

  He just held her, rocked her. "Shh." Stroking her hair when she finally went quiet, he said, "Tell me about this guy you canceled on. Will he pass the big brother test?"

  Lily's voice was thick with emotion when she spoke. "He has tattoos and piercings and he rides a jetcycle when on the mainland."

  Bo felt his eyebrows rise; steel will notwithstanding, Lily was about as ladylike as they came. She dated teachers and accountants and computronic techs. Men with soft hands and gentle voices. "You're having a late teenage rebellion phase?"

  She elbowed him, and that was good, that was his little sister. "He's a doctor. A surgeon. He goes all over the world, wherever he's needed--and he donates his time and skills for free as often as he can. He just likes body art and fast vehicles."

  Intrigued, Bo made a mental note to look up this tattooed doctor who'd put that tone in his sister's voice. "Why don't you call him? Reschedule your date?"

  "I have a swollen nose and red eyes now." She blew her nose on a tissue she'd pulled out of the pocket of her capri pants. "And I want to hang out with you."

  Tugging lightly at her hair when she went silent, he said, "You want to go on a gondola?"

  "We're not tourists." A grumpy response.

  "Who the hell says only tourists can play in the canals?" Snagging her hand to tug her down the bridge, he found them a gondola painted the standard sleek black and paid the gondolier extra to stay on shore while Bo took over his duties.

  "Only for you, Bo," the man said, tipping his iconic straw boater at them. "I'm going to go have a coffee over there." He nodded at a nearby cafe whose owner was just putting out his outdoor tables. "Come grab me when you're done--and look after my lady. That's my livelihood you're borrowing."

  Saluting the other man in a silent promise, Bo pushed off.

  Lily finally started to smile again ten minutes later, calling his attention to interesting buildings as they moved through the water. "It looks different from this angle," she said from her seated position. "I love how quiet it is at this time of day and how you get to catch sight of things like that"--she pointed to a baker setting out wares hot from the oven--"see the city coming awake."

  Bo, upright in the traditional position to pole the oar through the water, was keeping an eye out as he always did--side effect of being security chief. And he saw what Lily missed. "Look to the left. Early morning tourist about to get his pocket picked."

  Putting two fingers to his lips, he whistled sharply. The would-be pickpocket's head spun around, as did the tourist's. Ignoring the latter, Bo met the eyes of the other. Shoulders slumping, the teenager glared at him . . . but turned and walked off in the direction he should've been heading. Toward school.

  Lily chuckled. "Do you know everyone?"

  "And their parents," Bo answered dryly and continued on down the canal.

  He was hoping to see a sleek form under the water, as he'd done a couple of times after BlackSea first made contact by doing the Alliance an intel favor, but that water remained empty. Even though Bo should've been worrying about his brain, now that the first shock had passed, he was back to being pissed off at the traitor or traitors who might've ended the Alliance's chances of a friendship with the notoriously reclusive changeling group.

  His muscles threatened to lock from the intensity of his reaction.

  The fucking Consortium might be behind this, but each and every individual who'd signed up to join them bore his or her own responsibility. If Bo ever got his hands on them, they'd pay the price.

  Chapter 44

  NIKITA READ THROUGH the short and concise report Ivy Jane Zen had sent through to the Ruling Coalition about the serious deficiency in the Net.

  Of humans.

  No one, Nikita thought, had seen that coming, and not even the power and money at the disposal of the Ruling Council and their associates could fix it. Wanting to confirm that supposition, she contacted Sascha to ask if Psy could psychically coerce humans to bond with them.

  The other Es would've been horrified and shocked at her question, but Nikita knew that while Sascha would be equally horrified, she wouldn't be shocked. Her daughter knew how Nikita's brain worked.

  "No," Sascha responded, her cardinal eyes flecked with sparks of color from whatever she'd been doing prior to Nikita's call. "No one knows how humans are integrated into the Net without being an active part of it, but we do know coercion doesn't work." Her expression turned grim. "Otherwise, there would be other healthy sections."

  Sascha didn't have to spell it out, not to Nikita: it was willful blindness to imagine that there weren't at least a few Psy around the world controlling humans through a telepathic link at any given point in time. Personally, Nikita had always preferred to use other methods--not out of any ethical considerations, but because mind control was a waste of time and energy.

  After the call to Sascha, she made one to Anthony, using every tool at her disposal to keep the discussion strictly to Coalition business. It was more difficult than it should've been. Not only because Anthony had a razor-sharp intellect and a will as strong as her own, but because he'd somehow neutralized her defenses without doing a single aggressive act.

  A man that powerful, that icily ruthless when the occasion called for it, who hadn't eliminated her from the chessboard while she'd been wounded and defenseless? One who'd actually protected her?

  It did not fit with Nikita's worldview.

  Neither did her reluctance to see his action as a weakness she could exploit.

  Or her choice to call him when she could've sent an e-mail instead.

  Ending the call before he saw too deep, as he had a habit of doing, she walked away from the wall-mounted comm to her desk and the black leather-synth of her executive chair. Since there was nothing she could do to assist the Es in their search for a solution to the human issue, she wouldn't waste her time on it. When and if they needed her skills and connections, they would contact her.

  As she'd already cleared all Coalition business for the day, she'd spend the second half of the morning going over the financial standing of an airjet company she intended to acquire for--

  Pain lanced through her abdomen before she reached her seat.

  A knife stabbing into her over and over again.

  Gripping the back of her chair, she breathed in and out until it passed. The surgeons and M-Psy had done a stellar job, but she'd suffered a critical injury, and there were some types of healing that simply couldn't be sped up.

  Of course, according to certain parties, she was in this condition because of her impatience to get back to work.

  Keeping a white-knuckled grip on the chair, she maneuvered around until she could take a seat. Tremors
ran through her, disrupting her attempts to regulate her breathing. Weakness was not something she accepted in herself, but currently, she had no choice in the matter.

  A knock on the door interrupted her only seconds later; it was accompanied by a telepathic touch that identified the person on the other side as her senior aide, Sophia Russo. Come in, she telepathed since her breathing was still too irregular for speech.

  Sophia was one of the few people Nikita trusted to see her in this condition--the former J-Psy and her ex-cop husband wouldn't betray Nikita, so long as she didn't cross the moral lines they'd lain down. Many Psy in her position would see it as a bad bargain on her part, but Nikita valued loyalty--to know she wouldn't get a knife in the back was a priceless gift worth some readjustment of her methods and tactics.

  Entering, Sophia crossed the carpet with a slim organizer in hand, but rather than speaking of work, she took one look at Nikita's face and shook her head. Her charcoal-black hair was in a soft knot at the back of her head, her skin pure cream in the midmorning sunlight that poured through the new and significantly reinforced glass. "You need to rest."

  Nikita had her breath back. "I need to work."

  Sophia didn't budge. Her body clad in a neat black skirt and sleeveless blue top, and her hands gloved in thin black material that protected her from accidentally sensing people's lives, their secret horrors and dreams, the former J was no pushover. "You can send me instructions from your suite."

  Eyes of blue-violet took in the way Nikita's hand was pressed flat on her desk in an effort to control the trembling. "Collapsing after overextending yourself is why you're in such bad condition when you should've already been well on the way to a full recovery."

  Sometimes Nikita wondered why she kept Sophia in her employ. Of course, it was partly because the other woman told her the truth, no matter what. "There are people watching me. Duncan stocks will start falling again should anyone realize the state of my health." It was why the medics always came to her, courtesy of a Tk in her employ. All were paid extremely well to keep their mouths shut. She'd also reminded them who she was and what she could do to their brains should they cross her.

  Sophia's eyes went to the glass of the walls behind and to Nikita's left. "Even if someone is spying on your movements, they can't know what you're doing if you step out. I'll even make a note in your diary that you're in an internal conference room in the unlikely scenario that someone is able to hack into our systems."

  The other woman placed her organizer on Nikita's desk, her stance resolute . . . and concern in her gaze. The J had a softer heart than she liked to pretend. Nikita knew; she recognized the signs after raising a daughter with an even softer heart.

  "You've made enough of an appearance today," Sophia continued. "You also have a meeting at an external location tomorrow for which you need to be physically fit. I can juggle everything else so no one is the wiser about your health."

  Nikita's abdomen was throbbing, but she couldn't risk using the pain-control mechanisms she'd been taught as a child, lest she unknowingly ignore a bleed or a tear because she couldn't feel it. "All right. I'll read the airjet data package upstairs." She'd get into bed first, try to sleep through the worst of the pain. "If the pain gets any worse, we'll get an M-Psy in to run a scan."

  Sophia nodded. "I'll send the package to your organizer." The younger woman walked with Nikita to the door, stayed beside her as she got in the elevator.

  Nikita didn't tell Sophia not to accompany her upstairs. She was weaker than she could remember being for weeks--it was possible she might collapse.

  She trusted Sophia to catch her.

  It wasn't until she'd changed into simple pajamas of navy blue and slipped into bed that she realized there was something she didn't trust Sophia to do: keep her silence about Nikita's condition when it came to two specific individuals. Sophia, she said telepathically. Don't contact my daughter or Anthony about the current status of my health.

  I already did.

  Nikita knew she should discipline her subordinate, but she simply didn't have the energy. We'll discuss this after I rest.

  The voice that came into her mind seconds later was a male one. Sleep. I'll make sure you're safe.

  I can keep myself safe, Nikita said . . . or tried to say. Except her eyes were heavy from the exhaustion of maintaining her front as a ruthless woman undaunted by what could've been a fatal wound, and she'd become used to that male voice.

  Anthony Kyriakus hadn't yet let her down.

  Sleep crashed over her in a black wave a heartbeat after that thought passed through her mind.

  Letters to Nina

  From the private diaries of Father Xavier Perez

  August 10, 2079

  Nina,

  The world is changing in drastic and perilous ways. My two friends are unafraid of meting out death in their quest to erase evil and bring freedom to their people. It disturbs me and I argue often with them, but I can't sway them from their course--they believe the evil in the Psy race is too deeply rooted, that it must be excised with brutal force.

  Only then can compassion have a chance to bud and bloom.

  I've sat for hours in my church, praying for answers, for a way forward that won't stain the world in red, but I hear only silence from the heavens. I wish you were here. My friends think me wise, but you were always the one who could see through to the heart of the most complex questions.

  I miss you each and every day.

  Xavier

  Chapter 45

  SASCHA HUNG UP the phone and turned to Lucas, worry gnawing her gut. "That was Sophie. Nikita's still in pain, exhausted." It didn't surprise her that she hadn't picked up Nikita's exhaustion during their earlier comm call: her mother was a master at showing people only what she wanted them to see.

  "Sophie says she barely rested for an hour before getting back to work." The only concession Nikita had made to her condition was to remain in her suite and in bed, rather than returning to her desk.

  Lucas joined her on the aerie balcony, the two of them having decided to work from home today. They'd both spoken to Bastien first thing this morning about the other man's continued efforts to narrow down the individual who'd hired the captain to spirit away Naya.

  "I'm getting close," Bastien had said, the passion of the hunt in the green of his eyes.

  Sascha had spent the rest of the morning in discussions with Ivy and other Es, while Lucas played with and took care of Naya. Then they'd switched off and she'd happily taken cub duty while Lucas had conversation after conversation to do with the "adjunct signee" status he'd suggested. After intense discussion within their own pack, SnowDancer had agreed to back him, so he'd made the call to send the proposal out to a wider--though still limited--number of people.

  Despite vociferous disagreement from several parties, he'd held his ground, panther and man both having made the decision that this was the only way Trinity could survive. Sascha had never been more proud of him. Because while her mate could act civilized, he was a dominant predatory changeling; to propose what he had meant fighting his most primal instincts.

  Now, sliding an arm around her, he said, "The doctors warned that her recovery would take time, especially after her relapse." He kept his voice low, his eyes on the little black ball of fur playing on the forest floor below. Sascha, too, was keeping an eye on their baby, though she was doing it mostly through their telepathic link.

  "I just . . . I want to be there for her, Lucas." Sascha leaned on the railing on this part of the balcony. "She shouldn't be alone." Taking a shaky breath, she tried to explain. "I've only recently realized how alone my mother has been her whole life. From the instant she learned she was carrying an empath--from the instant she decided to protect me, she's walked alone."

  Sascha had thought her mother cold and heartless for most of her lifetime. As most recently demonstrated by the question Nikita had asked her about coercing humans into the PsyNet, her mother had a fluid concept of conscience
at best.

  Sascha was under no illusions about the woman who'd given birth to her.

  What she hadn't understood was that everything Nikita had done while Sascha was growing up, everything, had been to protect her daughter. "She built an empire so I'd be shielded by a wall of sheer power, and if she had to murder to get that power, she murdered."

  Sascha found that difficult to say, to admit, but she was fully cognizant of her mother's dual nature. Nikita had done terrible things, unforgivable things. Yet she'd done them all with the sole aim of protecting her child. "I can't accept the violence she did for me." She wet a throat gone bone-dry. "But I think of what I did to those mercenaries who wanted to hurt Naya, and I can see it's on the same continuum."

  Lucas gripped her jaw, made her face him. "Your mother went far beyond that." His lips were a flat line. "I can't judge her for protecting her child, but at some point, it became about power. Don't take her actions on your shoulders. Got it?"

  Sascha wished she could argue, but she couldn't. Yes, she'd defend Naya to the death, but she wouldn't massacre innocents in her daughter's name. "Got it."

  "Good." Lucas rubbed the pad of his thumb over her chin. "But yes, for all her sins, Nikita did make sure you survived to adulthood."

  "I think she did more," Sascha said as they both turned to look over the railing again. Naya couldn't go far, tiny as she was, but parental instinct was parental instinct. "I don't think it was chance that put you and me together on that project."

  "I've had that thought myself." He growled down to Naya when she growled up in hello.

  Sascha sent her a psychic kiss at the same time.

  Happy, their baby continued her solitary game, leopard enough to enjoy alone time and changeling enough to not want it always.

  Sliding his hand around to cup her nape, Lucas returned to their conversation. "Nikita made sure you had significant and daily contact with me and the pack."

  "Do you think . . ." Sascha frowned. "But how could she know we were mates?"

  Lucas shook his head. "I don't think she did. No way to predict that. My feeling is that your mother was playing the odds." He ran his thumb over her skin, petting her, loving her. Skin privileges between mates. Sascha slipped her own hand under his black T-shirt so she could touch the skin of his back.