“Very.” Anthony didn’t rise. “Do the Arrows require a prediction?”
Vasic had always wondered if Anthony had a touch of the F ability, though he was listed in the official records as a high-Gradient telepath with a minor illusion ability. An ability he’d apparently passed on to his daughter, Faith. “Pure Psy has moved on from licking its wounds—indications are it has an operation in progress.”
“I see.” Rising from his chair, Anthony turned to walk to the window.
Vasic joined him, his eyes on the landscaped park below, the grass jewel green, the trees lush with foliage. “An unusual view.” Psy corporations preferred to be in city centers, in high-rises created from glass and steel. The internal NightStar compound, by contrast, was all low, earth-toned buildings designed to flow into the environment.
“Events have led NightStar to question the need for isolation in order to guard the mental health of even our most powerful F-Psy, but foreseers do have unique requirements in comparison to the other designations.” Anthony nodded at a sturdy-looking man who’d walked out of the opposite building to take a seat beneath the spreading branches of a large oak. “He’s obviously had a strong prediction, and it’s drained him. I find my Fs function better—thus increasing our profits—if they have not merely soothing surroundings, but the freedom and space to recover.”
Vasic could understand that need better than Anthony would ever know. He often teleported to deserts cloaked in moonlight, because it was only there, surrounded by an endless nothingness that was strangely alive, that he could truly think. “Some would say such a need is an emotional response and should be conditioned out of your foreseers.”
“No,” Anthony said without looking away from the recovering F-Psy. “Nobody would dare—my people are too necessary to the continuing success of the businesses run by the most powerful. Something I make certain no one ever forgets.”
And that was why Vasic had first agreed to work with Anthony—the man was ruthless, but he had the same kind of loyalty to his foreseers that Vasic had to the Arrows. “Do your F-Psy know anything about the Pure Psy situation?”
“A number have foreseen what they call a cataclysmic change in the Net,” Anthony replied. “The visions are so violent the medics have had to intervene in three cases to bring the foreseers safely out. If they hadn’t been under supervision”—the slightest pause—“we’d have lost them.”
Vasic wondered if the pause had been an unconscious reference to Anthony’s daughter. Faith NightStar was the most powerful F-Psy in or out of the Net, the reason the squad had kept a covert eye on her since her defection to DarkRiver. Her Silence broken, there was a strong likelihood she’d been one of the foreseers Anthony had referenced. While Faith was no longer under M-Psy supervision, she was connected to her jaguar-changeling mate by a type of psychic bond Vasic didn’t understand. Perhaps that bond protected her in some way. “No details?”
Anthony shook his head. “But it’s worse than anything they saw prior to the battle with the changelings. The scale of the deaths will be catastrophic.”
Chapter 34
FEELING MORE HIMSELF than he had in months, Riaz was out looking for a wind-fallen tree he could mine for a hunk of wood when something caught the sunlight—and his eye. He bent down, picked up a twisted piece of metal. Seeing the scorched and broken tree trunks around him, he realized he was at the spot where one of Henry Scott’s stealth craft had crashed prior to the final confrontation. It wasn’t surprising the small piece had been missed, the debris had been spread over such a large area.
Placing it into one of the pockets in his cargo pants, he decided to do a quick grid search to see if there were any other fragments. It didn’t take long under the bright Sierra sunshine. The techs and novices had done an excellent job—but for the damage to the environment, the area was pristine. That damage, too, would heal. SnowDancer would make sure of it.
Satisfied, he took a quick glance at his watch, saw it was four. Since he’d already found a small chunk of the type of wood he needed, he was about to head back to the den to complete his review of SnowDancer’s international business plan, when he caught a vague hint of a scent that shouldn’t have been there.
Metallic. Cold. A Psy drenched in Silence.
It could be nothing, a remnant attached to another piece of debris, though the probability was low taking into account the time that had passed. And all the penny-ante annoyance hits to date had taken place on the edges of den territory. Why would any Psy want to seriously antagonize SnowDancer now, after the pack’s decisive defeat of Henry’s army?
Tracking the scent on silent feet, he came to the top of a small rise. Here, the lingering scent was as thick as soup to his changeling senses. He frowned. The position offered the watcher no strategic viewpoint in terms of figuring out SnowDancer’s weaknesses. All he or she would see was a small, naturally open field surrounded by scrubby bush that merged into a stand of lodgepole pines.
A curvy young female with lush black curls—Maria—jogged across the clearing at that very second, accompanied by a dark gray wolf who spotted Riaz a second before Maria did. The soldier waved, while the wolf howled a greeting before they both disappeared into the pines.
Hmm…
Psy had been known to use SnowDancer land for meetings, which wasn’t as stupid a move as it sounded, not given the spread of den territory, and how simple it was to teleport into isolated sections. This spot might qualify, except as Maria and Lake had just proven, anyone on this hill would be silhouetted against the sky, openly visible to a passing sentry.
Gut-certain he was missing something, he kicked off his boots and stripped. His sense of smell was acute even as a human, but nothing beat the wolf’s nose. Circling the area after shifting, he checked twice to make sure he had it right, then changed back into human form and quickly got dressed.
Racing to the den, he pushed into Hawke’s office without waiting for an invitation. “We need to talk.”
The alpha turned from the comm screen where he was talking to a man who wore a neat three-piece suit, his graying hair combed sternly back to reveal a defined widow’s peak. “We’ll have to continue this another time, Mr. Woo.”
Pursing his lips in disapproval, the man on the other side nonetheless made no demur as Hawke signed off. “What is it?” His eyes flicked over Riaz’s shoulder, sharpened.
Riaz had already turned to greet Riley, pushing the door closed behind the senior lieutenant. “Do you have what I asked for?” He’d called Riley during his run to the den.
Nodding, the other man input a data crystal into the comm panel. “These are the watch routes I’ve assigned the soldiers and novices over the past two weeks.” A longer period than warranted by the intensity of the scent, but Riaz hadn’t wanted to risk missing a pattern because of too tight a date range.
“I’ve color-coded the individual soldiers,” Riley continued, “so you can see who was where when at a glance.”
Riaz pinpointed the rise where he’d caught the scent, inserted an asterisk to mark the spot on the map, then checked which packmates had passed within sight of it. Fury ignited in his blood. “The shape of the scent on the earth,” he said, after filling Hawke and Riley in on his discovery, “says the intruder was lying down.” It was the only way he or she could have escaped detection.
“Sniper?” Riley asked in a grim tone.
“Or surveillance.” Ice in Hawke’s voice, the wolf stalking behind pale eyes fixed on the assignment map. “No reason for the Psy to watch Maria, Tai, Riordan, or Ebony.”
That left one name.
“We knew this would happen,” Riaz said, tracking the deep aqua color Riley had allocated Sienna, his anger transforming into a cold determination to keep safe the young woman who’d walked into battle willing to die for SnowDancer. “Everyone in the Net now knows what she can do.”