Jabbing at him with a knife would work to keep him at bay.

“Here.” A metallic rasp against stone as Alexei slid across what proved to be a hunting blade. She gripped it, held watch, while Alexei fought to keep Vashti from slipping into unconsciousness.

Memory feared no one would get here in time, not with the crowd, and second-guessed her decision to veto a teleporter. But Vashti had been so afraid. Panic could cause her mind to short out, her heart to stop. But if there was no choice—

Feet pounded down the stairs.

The woman who entered with Clay was statuesque, with rich brown hair to her waist and a body that was all dangerous curves and power. She was dressed in dark blue jeans that hugged her legs, black ankle boots, and a fuzzy red sweater with gold threads woven into it. On her head was a band that glowed with blue liquid and had wobbling eyes on top of it.

And inside her flowed the same deep well of wild compassion that Memory had felt from Lucy.

The healer ran directly toward Vashti, Clay following with a satchel in hand. “Tammy’s emergency kit,” the leopard said to Alexei, his chest heaving. “I directed her here while I ran to her car to grab the kit. You know healers—everyone in the pack is coded into her car’s security.”

“That’s because if anyone dares take my car for a joyride, they’ll be in big doo-doo with every single other member of the pack.” The brunette smiled at Vashti as she got to work, her hands gentle and competent, and her voice soothing and warm.

“Doo-doo?” Alexei shook his head. “What did I tell you, sweetheart? Wolves are definitely more sophisticated and elegant.”

The healer snorted. “Ignore him, kitten. He’s a boy, and as I’m raising two boys, I can tell you they’re mostly dirt and mischief—with a side helping of interesting bugs.”

Memory knew they were joking around in an effort to raise Vashti’s spirits, and it was working. The girl’s joy was an innocent thing, her pain and fear forgotten for short bursts as she tried to laugh. All the while, her blood continued to flow.

Clay cradled the little girl’s head with one hand, his other holding hers. “Noor can’t stop talking about you,” he said in his deep timbre. “She’s very proud to have a ‘big girl’ friend. I’m going to talk to your dad about bringing her over to visit you.”

Vashti’s happiness bubbled again.

Memory clenched her gut and hoped. Vashti was bleeding out, her psychic presence weaker and weaker because Renault wanted Memory. If Vashti died . . . Memory bit down so hard on her lower lip that she tasted blood.

Chapter 35

Psychopaths who kill for killing’s sake are ill-disciplined individuals who waste resources. At the core, they are driven by primordial urges that negate any assertions of intelligence.

—Amara Aleine

RENAULT’S PULSE RACED. He wasn’t used to the lack of control. Neither was he used to being the one who ran, being the weak one. But he’d realized he was outnumbered the instant the two changelings entered the basement—he’d already stretched his telekinetic abilities; he hadn’t had enough power to hold off the two aggressors.

As it was, he’d barely made it to his hiding place.

That he now lay on the floor, his cheek resting on the rough carpet, was a humiliation he would not forget. He’d punish Memory for this, for running from him, for her disloyalty after all he’d done for her, how well he’d kept her.

She would pay and pay again.

The next time he drew her out, he’d have to ensure she came alone. It could be done. He knew everything about Memory, every fear and every guilt. Something crackled in his pocket as he turned. His ace in the hole: the lock of hair that belonged to Memory’s mother, a memento he always kept close because it marked the day he’d found Memory.

Yes, she would come when he called.

Chapter 36

Empaths do an overwhelming amount of good. But, as with any other group, those of Designation E have their flaws and their vulnerabilities, and these elements of their psyche can have a catastrophic impact on their mental health.

—The Mysterious E Designation: Empathic Gifts & Shadows by Alice Eldridge (Reprint: 2082)

MEMORY SAT IN a hard plas chair while hospital announcements echoed against the cool white walls. She was waiting for Alexei to return from the small café attached to the hospital—he’d volunteered to go down and grab coffee and food.

Two hours had passed since they’d found Vashti. Neither Clay nor Tammy had eaten dinner yet, and Memory’s bones were pushing up against her skin. Whatever she’d done to track Renault, it had required huge amounts of fuel. But Memory wasn’t hungry. A rock was lodged in her abdomen.

Stable at last, the small E Renault had hurt slept in a room on the other side of the wall at Memory’s back. Vashti’s father was inside with her while Tammy stood conferring with the medical team at the end of the hall—it turned out that Tamsyn “Tammy” Ryder, DarkRiver’s senior healer, was also a highly qualified doctor who had full privileges at this hospital.

Clay kept watch close by the medical team.

There was no need to keep watch at this end; Vashti’s room was the final one in this hallway, with only a wall to Memory’s right.

“Empath?”

Jerking at the unexpected voice, she found Vashti’s father standing in the doorway to his daughter’s room. It took her a second to realize he was addressing her. “Yes,” she said, though her insides twisted at claiming the title. She’d brought a monster to this man’s door.

“My daughter would like to speak to you.”

A sudden cold shivered through her blood when she entered the hospital room and saw Vashti’s small body in the middle of the bed, tubes and wires going from the girl to various machines. Tamsyn had reassured her that Vashti would make a full recovery, but seeing the little girl this way, knowing it was her fault, it had Memory bleeding inside.

She’d locked her guilt and pain behind solid shields for hours, not about to allow them to leak around this very young empath. If Vashti was anything like Cordelia and the others, it’d make her feel bad when Memory was the one at fault. “Hi,” she said from near the doorway.

The little E’s forehead scrunched up. “You don’t taste bad anymore.”

Exhaling, Memory dared walk closer to the bed. “I’m sorry about that. I had to connect with the man who took you to track him. It temporarily altered my psychic scent.”

Expression clearing, Vashti lifted up a small hand. “Are you Memory?”

Nodding as she closed her fingers around the girl’s with gentle care, Memory said, “I’m sorry the bad man took you.”

“It’s not your fault—he has a hole inside him. He’s empty.” Warm, delicate life in every breath. “He said he wanted to lock you up so you could never escape.”

And this hurt and scared child had remembered and thought to warn her. “Thank you for telling me,” Memory whispered, her throat raw. “I have no intention of being caught.” She looked at Vashti’s father. “You know you have to alter your living area so he can no longer get a teleport lock?”

“Yes. DarkRiver has moved us into one of their apartments while the changes are made.” His voice was cool, but the hand he placed on his daughter’s forehead gentle. “She needs to rest now.”

Releasing Vashti’s hand, the girl’s eyelids already fluttering, Memory rose. Vashti’s father wasn’t Silent. Emotions seethed beneath the intense calm of his surface. Memory felt his cold fury at what had been done to his child, knew he blamed her. But she knocked on his mind nonetheless.

His eyes were hard when they met hers. Yes?

She’s an empath, Memory reminded this man who loved his daughter so very much. You need to learn to control your emotions beyond the surface.

His pupils dilated. I’ll be far calmer once you’re out of the room.

Memory left at once, guilt clawing at her with vicious strength. After pulling the door shut behind her, she walked toward Clay. The DarkRiver male frowned. “Better you don’t wander around while a psychopath’s hunting you.”

Nausea lurched in Memory’s stomach. Vashti was simply the first victim. Renault wouldn’t stop. He’d keep spilling innocent blood to get to her. “Toilet,” she muttered.

Piercing green eyes took her in before he pointed down and to the right. “Alexei’ll be back soon—wolf is right, you need to eat.” A pause. “Don’t worry about the little kitten’s father. Man’s still in shock.”

Not replying, Memory headed the way he’d indicated, but when she reached the facilities, she glanced back to see that Clay had just turned to answer a question from Tamsyn. Memory kept walking. Around the corner, down a flight of stairs, and all the way out of the hospital.

Though it was well after the midnight hour, the streets still buzzed with festivalgoers heading home. A couple walked ahead, the woman carrying a paper lantern she must’ve bought from one of the stalls.

The red of it glowed from the light within.

On the other side of the street stood a knot of young males, all dressed to the nines, with their black hair slicked back; they laughed and talked as they shared a packet of sweets. A group of women around Memory’s age wearing matching cheongsams—maybe a performance group of some kind—smiled coyly at the youths as they passed.

A quick-thinking boy offered them a sweet, and the women’s bright laughter sparkled in the night air.

Memory moved on. She didn’t know where she was going. It wasn’t as if she could outrun her own disgust with herself. She’d never been like those laughing young women, never walked hand-in-hand with a man through the city streets, never been clean and shiny and new.

How foolish to have imagined that she could have Alexei for her own.

He was a creature of this world, of light. Memory was a nightmare.

When the couple ahead of her turned off on a side street, she didn’t follow them. Their happiness made her feel even more hollow inside. Tonight, however, she couldn’t avoid the happy couples and the smiling groups out for a joyous night. They were everywhere.