Slave to Sensation

However, Enrique was no ordinary Psy-he could possibly pull it off. If he succeeded, he’d cut off the roaming part of her psyche from the rest. A successful capture was one of the more brutal ways to paralyze the physical body of a Psy. If the paralysis was maintained too long, the underlying connection between self and mind snapped, the two parts of the psyche unable to survive the separation.

The result was death and the absorption of that roaming part of the victim’s consciousness into the vastness of the PsyNet. Some theorized that that was how the NetMind had begun-with the lost minds of Psy who’d been ambushed or otherwise lost in the dark skies of the Net.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir.”

“I think it’s time we discussed this, Sascha.” He was everywhere. Cold and focused like the finest of lasers.

“I’m in a meeting.”

“Cancel it.” The walls around her began to constrict.

“Mother has given me instructions to close this deal.” This was bad, very bad. What she couldn’t understand was why Enrique was coming after her.

There was nothing overtly “wrong” about the patterns she was leaking. The traces were both very faint and came from a deep part of the changeling consciousness that Psy couldn’t usually access, not without ripping open minds. Only a Psy who’d done that would understand what it was that he was seeing.

“I’m tired of waiting for you to make time. Unless you want to find yourself pulled up before the Council, I want to see you. Now.”

“On what basis would you call me before the Council?” She filled her mental tone with the confidence of someone who’d been born a cardinal, someone whose mother was a Councilor.

“You’re not pure, Sascha. You think like them.” It was an accusation that held supreme confidence. “Like the animals you work so well with.”

Caught utterly off guard, she almost gave herself away. She’d never known Enrique to have any contact with changelings. How did he recognize the taint in her mental signature? “I’m sure you’re mistaken.”

“I’ve been in their minds. I know exactly what they look like.” His mental trap was almost solid. There was no way she would’ve been able to break out if she’d planned on doing so. Enrique was stronger than she’d ever guessed, possibly the strongest cardinal in the Net.

“How?” Confusion and desperation were taking their toll. Murder sprang from rage, fury, jealousy. Enrique didn’t feel anything, so how could he be the violence that had stolen so many lives?

“The Council likes to know the enemy. We’ve been using volunteers to study their mental patterns.” He pushed at the flaw in her mind as one would poke at a wound.

It hurt. “Sir, what are you doing?”

“I don’t like waiting, Sascha.”

But he liked talking, she thought. “I’m tying up the meeting. If I leave suddenly, it’ll negate everything we’ve achieved to date. I didn’t realize the Council was running such research.”

“Call it a private interest. Their women make the best subjects-there’s something perfect about them.”

I never guessed you were so perfect.

“They’re weak,” she said, prodding him on. “They feel. It’s the Psy who are perfect.”

Enrique’s energy whirled cold and menacing around her as she started to inch back toward the hidden doorway into her mind. She had to get inside before she dropped out of the PsyNet. If Enrique succeeded in infiltrating her defenses, he’d destroy Lucas along with her. No, she thought, furious. Her mate would not die.

A whisper of the forest in her mind. The panther hidden deep within her was pleased by her thoughts but its attention was fixed on Enrique, on the threat to its mate. Claws slid out and she felt her fingertips tingle.

“Psy have to suppress emotion in order to survive, but changelings thrive without breaking under the pressure. I’d say that makes them the stronger species.” He paused and she froze her creeping progress. “Are you almost done?”

“Yes, sir.” She made her voice hold the faintest thread of fear, let him pick up the emotion.

The walls of his mind went blue like the deepest oceanic ice. It was frighteningly beautiful. “Sascha, Sascha,” he whispered. “You’re truly extraordinary.”

She didn’t respond, every ounce of concentration focused on getting back into her mind. His comments had her convinced he was the killer one second and confused the next. How could he be the serial? How? Those women had been torn part, annihilated from the mind out. Enrique was a man who didn’t feel any negative emotion. Not rage. Not anger. Not hatred.

Was he simply out for her because she was flawed? Had he driven away the real murderer, the one who’d infected the Net with traces of violence? Disappointment tightened her gut. She couldn’t fail, couldn’t let the need for revenge plunge DarkRiver and the SnowDancers into war. They were her people now.

“You’re even more perfect than the changeling women.”

“Who were these women?” she asked, nearly to the doorway. “I’d like to speak to them as well. The leopards tell me nothing.”