* * *

—

ETHAN processed what Selenka had told him about Operative C as they walked, thought back over all his interactions with the man. “He wasn’t very good at subterfuge, but the second Moscow operative was one secret he managed to keep.” If Ethan had maintained contact for longer, it was possible he could’ve unearthed that second name.

“If you’re worrying whether you should’ve stayed in touch with him longer,” Selenka said, “don’t. Latest note”—she held up her phone—“says he was planning your execution sooner rather than later. Too hard to control.” A glint in her eye. “You have a wolf’s heart, zaichik.”

Veins pumping with pure pride, Ethan nonetheless focused on the problems at hand. “Any update on Haven’s Disciples?”

“Nothing definite yet.” Her tone turned grim. “Only good news is that Zivko and the other young wolves have started to think for themselves now that they’re away from Blaise.”

They reached the den moments later, and Ethan walked in to a sense of lightness in the air. That wasn’t to say the sorrow was gone, but it was clear the pack had made the decision to move on and live in the present rather than being held captive to the agony of the past.

Margo was one of the first people he saw. The security specialist’s face was set in tense lines, her shoulders tight, but she said, “Good to see you up, Ethan. I sent you a few more back issues of Wild Woman.”

A touch overwhelmed by the overt welcome, Ethan said, “Spasibo, Margo. I haven’t yet watched Hourglass Lives, but I intend to as soon as things are calmer.”

Margo’s expression shifted to one of pure joy for a second, the hazy blue of her eyes sparkling. “We’ll do it together,” she said. “So I can provide commentary. You have to catch up so we can dish about Ridge and Chantelle.”

In front of them, Selenka was already surrounded by a large group of youths who all seemed to want to make contact with her as they told her what felt like a hundred different things. Loyal stuck close to her leg, giving everyone else a suspicious look. Ethan’s dog was as gone over her as Ethan.

“How does she give so much of herself?” he found himself asking Margo.

“That’s a big part of being alpha—that huge heart.” Emotion in Margo’s voice, intense and rich and woven with loyalty. “To her, it’s not a drain. Her wolf is built for this.”

A familiar mind touched Ethan’s. Ethan, your shields appear fully reinstated. Are you conscious?

Yes, he told Aden. You wish to discuss the incident? He’d never forget the infestation of psychic bugs, their glowing carapaces and scrambling legs.

Yes. Comm conference. I’ll send you the code.

After receiving it, Ethan turned to Margo. “Is there a comm I can use for a private meeting?”

“Sure. Follow me.”

Ethan did so after a glance at Selenka. She met his gaze and when he mouthed, Comm, gave him a nod. Loyal stuck with her.

Alone in the small room set up with a large screen at one end, Ethan input the comm code. It took him through to a conference that held three familiar faces: Aden, Kaleb Krychek, and Memory Aven-Rose.

It was Memory, her presence still so strangely familiar, who said, “You’re okay.” A big smile that reached her eyes. “That was creepy as all get-out. I’m going to be seeing nightmare bugs in my dreams for a while.” She shuddered.

Ethan agreed. “I’ve never seen such an infestation.” He picked up a small piece of memo paper and began to fold it out of sight of the cameras.

“From the psychic images you’ve both shared,” Krychek said, “neither have I.” His physically perfect face gave nothing away, his cardinal eyes impassive. “I’m also getting no answers from the NetMind or DarkMind, but they’ve devolved to such a point that communication is all but impossible.”

Ethan hadn’t known Krychek could communicate with the neosentience that was the heart of the PsyNet—and he knew nothing of a DarkMind. But those questions could wait. “Have you located any other Es who can see the bugs?” After a thought, he made another precision fold.

“No.” Aden’s sharp cheekbones and slick-straight black hair caught the light as he angled his head. “Once Memory recovered and was able to keep track of it, we used the trapped bug to test its visibility to a whole range of Psy from telepaths and empaths all the way to psychometrics. So far, you and Memory alone can see them.”

“Could be because we’re both a little nuts,” Memory said, then looked off-camera and grinned. “It’s a joke, Mr. Growly Wolf.”

Ethan wasn’t so sure about his own mental stability—but the chance of two near-strangers sharing a hallucination was unlikely. Especially as Memory had seen the bugs right after she entered the PsyNet, well before he’d had any time to—even inadvertently—cue her to their presence. “There must be something different about our brains,” he said at last.

Memory’s pursed lips were painted a vibrant autumn orange. “Can you do anything else related to Scarab Syndrome sufferers?”

“As far as I’m aware, no.” He placed the completed origami animal on the table and began to fold another piece of memo paper. “You’re the only one who appears to be able to help those with the Syndrome.”

The empath made a face. “Only a limited percentage of those found so far.”

“The most dangerous percentage,” Krychek clarified. “The strongest of those suffering from the Syndrome.”

“Not all sufferers are strong?” Ethan’d had the impression that Scarab affected only high-Gradient Psy.

It was Aden who answered. “It appears to be a case of degrees. A jump from Gradient 2 to Gradient 6 is a major shift, as is the shift from 5 to 8.”

Memory’s face lost its luster. “It doesn’t look good. There doesn’t seem to be any way to rewind the clock for those people. A couple of the worst affected have already made their end-of-life decisions known. They don’t want to die with no awareness of who they are or what they’ve become.”

Ethan had once made the same choice . . . but now his entire life had changed. He’d been given an alternate choice—but if Memory was wrong and he was a Scarab, it could mean annihilation for hundreds.

“Will you give us permission to compare your brains?” Aden asked. “Memory, you can have your scans done by whomever you trust.”

“I’ll think about it,” the empath said with a scowl.

“DNA?” Ethan suggested, because it was less of an intrusion. “I’m curious about what links us.”

Memory pondered it before giving a small nod. “But I want yours. My and Alexei’s pack can run the tests.”

“Aden, please forward my sample from the squad archives to Memory.” Every Arrow had samples on file at Arrow HQ; Arrows who died in the field sometimes couldn’t be identified any other way.

Krychek broke in before Aden could reply. “I requested another person join this meeting.”

The comm screen split into four on the heels of his words, the face that appeared in the fourth quarter of a woman with blue-black hair cut in a blunt wedge, her skin like porcelain. Ethan had never before met her, but he’d heard at some point that her mother’d had Japanese ancestry, and that genetic history showed in the shape of her eyes and the angles of her face.

None of that was as important as the sense of power and lethal patience that clung to her. This was a woman who would take her time, eliminate her enemies with such vicious stealth that no one would be able to prove it—and she’d never lose her cool, never betray a single weakness.

He was face-to-face with Nikita Duncan, former Psy Councilor, mother of Sascha Duncan, and current member of the Psy Ruling Coalition.

And a woman with hands drenched in blood.

Chapter 37

Touch my child or grandchild and you make an enemy of me. That will not be advantageous to your continued good health. I am not my daughter, to concern myself with ethical lines—the PsyNet is littered with the voiceless ghosts of those who once thought to stand against me.

—Quote attributed to Nikita Duncan (unverified)

“NIKITA,” KRYCHEK SAID in a voice so potent with power it was midnight, “we need you to talk about your ability to seed mental viruses.”

To Ethan’s surprise, Nikita didn’t pretend not to have the ability. “What do you wish to know?” she asked, her tone cool to the point of coldness.

“Do you see creatures like these when you seed a virus?”

It was clear from the slight pause that followed that Krychek was telepathing her the mental images Ethan and Memory had forwarded. That he was doing so without any signs of strain when he was in Moscow and Nikita was most likely in San Francisco spoke to a vast telepathic reach.

Nikita’s eyes flared slightly at the corners. “What is this?”

Krychek explained. “We have one live sample.” A pause. “Do you wish to see it?”

His phrasing was interesting, Ethan thought. Clearly, the cardinal didn’t want to bias Nikita against not seeing the creature.

“Yes,” she said.

During the three minutes the two were on the PsyNet and not paying full attention to their screens, Memory widened her eyes at Ethan in a silent question.

He shook his head just slightly. Not here.

Memory scowled.

Ethan stared back.

And Aden’s mind touched his. What’s going on?

Once, Ethan would’ve ignored that question. Once he wouldn’t have sensed the deep concern in the squad leader’s face when he looked at Ethan. Memory’s of the opinion that I don’t have the Syndrome. She wants me to lower my shields to see what power emerges.

That seems risky in the extreme.

At least Aden got it, understood why Ethan was hesitating. She believes Sascha Duncan can create shields that will help me maintain but I won’t do it unless someone powerful is on standby to shut down my mind should my abilities go haywire. It was a silent request, Ethan unused to asking for help.