“An arrogant stance.”

“No, only the truth.”

“Payal is right.” Anthony Kyriakus’s voice. “Whatever the reason anchors were omitted from our leadership structure, that reason can no longer stand. Not now, in the face of total PsyNet failure.”

“Welcome to the Ruling Coalition.” Ivy Jane’s smile was genuine. “Let’s go hunt in this archive.”

“Not yet.” Krychek’s shoulders moved slightly, as if he’d slid his hands into his pockets. “Not if it’s the database I’m thinking of—Sigma18, Nikita?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“It’s been shuttered,” Kaleb told them. “Automatic security precaution during mothballing. It’ll take time to track down the codes and open it up in line with a step-by-step reactivation protocol. Otherwise, with a database this old—and given the archaic process most likely used to shutter it—there’s a distinct risk of fading.”

Shit, he’s right, Canto telepathed to Payal. Old PsyNet databases that aren’t regularly maintained can lose coherence.

“Will you undertake the task of reopening the database?” Payal asked Krychek. “It’s critical.”

“I’ll make it my priority. How long it takes will depend on if we have any Net failures or Scarab incursions in the interim.”

“It makes more sense for me to take on the task,” Nikita inserted. “It doesn’t require major power, just subtlety. I have that.”

Since Nikita Duncan was said to possess the power to infect minds with mental viruses, Canto had no doubt of her ability to do delicate psychic work. She wasn’t a woman he’d ever trust, but she also had a lot to lose should the PsyNet collapse—her empire had diversified of late, but it was still heavily Psy-based.

“As long as it’s done.” Payal’s words came out cool, almost autocratic.

“You’d do well to remember that we don’t work for you,” Nikita said, icicles dripping off each syllable.

“Right this moment, you do.” Payal’s tone was blunt. “After it’s done, I’ll work for you—as all anchors do on a daily basis. I reiterate again that we have no wish to be involved in politics for politics’ sake. Our only priority is the PsyNet and how to save it.”

To Canto’s surprise, Nikita reacted well to the plain speaking. “A fair exchange,” she said, then went silent while everyone talked over the plan. But once they’d begun to sign off, Nikita lingered until she was the only one onscreen.

“A problem?” Payal asked.

“No. I have a J-Psy in my organization. Sophia Russo.”

She’s an anchor, Canto told Payal. A very interesting one. We need to talk to her. Making contact with Sophia had been on his to-do list, but then had come the Delhi fracture and he’d had to shove it aside.

“We know of her,” Payal said with smooth fluidity. “In point of fact, we wish to make contact.”

“I thought as much. I’ll give Sophia your contact information and tell her to touch base.”

“Thank you.” Payal held Nikita’s eyes. “Why did you not eliminate your child when you became aware she was a cardinal empath?”

Canto didn’t know which one of them was more surprised at the question—him or Nikita.

Chapter 33

 

I would do it all again. To save my child, I would bathe in blood a thousand times over. I have no morality where her life is concerned.

—Nikita Duncan to Anthony Kyriakus

“THAT IS NONE of your concern.” The ice was back, frigid enough to burn.

“It is,” Payal insisted. “Anchor infants are dying before they initialize. We need to know how to stop it, how to make their parents bond to them enough to keep them alive—because there is no way to identify child As before initialization.”

Nikita shifted in her chair, the sleek strands of her hair falling back in perfect alignment after the movement. “I can’t help you,” she said, but it didn’t sound like a rejection.

That, Canto thought, was about all the answer they’d get from Nikita.

Again, she surprised him.

“But,” the former Councilor added, “our race has been about power for a long time—long before Silence. You need to leverage your power as Designation A. Telekinetics are currently considered one of the most useful designations in the Net and are of considerable value and offer prestige to the families who produce them. But Tks are worthless should the Net collapse.”

Nikita’s image blinked out.

Payal glanced at Canto. “Did I misunderstand, or did Nikita just tell us that our problem is public relations?”

“You didn’t misunderstand.” Canto rubbed his jaw, his stubble rasping under his fingertips. “It’s brilliant, you know. The reason no one watches for anchor children is because we’re just there, doing our work in the background. I think it’s time we step out of the shadows.”

“I just met with the Ruling Coalition.”

“But who knows about that?” He tapped the arm of his chair. “Are you up for an interview with the PsyNet Beacon?”

“Me? The robot?” Payal folded her arms and spread her legs apart. “You do it.”

He adored her. And he was not a man to use that kind of word. But he did. Adore her. “You’re our gladiator, my beautiful, intelligent, fascinating Payal. Also, wouldn’t you like to rub Gia Khan’s face in your rise to power?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t feel such petty emotions … but set up the interview.”

Canto crossed the floor to grip her hips. “You dazzle me.”

A sudden hesitancy to her. “What if it doesn’t work?” Soft words. “What if the only way I can stay functional is to keep up the iron walls?” Her fingers lingering delicately against his jaw, as if he’d break if she pushed too hard. “I let them fall today with you, and I feel stable enough, but what if it’s a false hope?”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve had this conversation—no matter what, no matter how, we stick.”

“7J and 3K?” she whispered.

“Always. Always.” Sometimes it wasn’t a childhood thing; sometimes you found your person early. She was his person and always would be.