Psy & Changelings 02 - Visions of Heat

It had mimicked the image she’d sent of herself, but colored it in starlit night. She got the sense that in spite of the feminine shape, it was in no way male or female. But it was beautiful and she attempted to say so.
    In reply, it sent her a second self-portrait. But this one was eerily different. Not one, but two women stood side by side. The second was without starlight, such pure black that she was shadows within shadows. Faith was still trying to grasp the image when the NetMind sent her a snapshot of dark stars zeroing in on her position.
    Faith didn’t stop to think. She jumped to another remote anchor point, acting on instinct, instinct that screamed these dark stars were nothing friendly. Either Kaleb Krychek had hired others to do his dirty work or the Council had discovered the NetMind was in contact with an unauthorized individual. She’d have banked on the latter possibility—Krychek wasn’t known for frontal attack.
    ???
    It had found her again. When she remained silent, it sent her images of the dark stars becoming lost in the echoes of a false trail. A false trail the NetMind had laid in split seconds. Because it was everywhere.
    Relief was a cool wind in her mind. Faith sent it a bouquet in thanks and, like the child it reminded her of, it multiplied the images a hundredfold and gave them back to her. She wanted to laugh, so she sent it copies of those feelings that Vaughn inspired when he teased. It responded by showing her a safe path home, one that would skirt the searchers and set off no alarms.
    Her conclusions about it shifted again—while it might be childlike in some senses, it was an endless, ageless intelligence in others. Sending it a rose in thanks, she headed home via the links it had given her the imprints for.
    She slipped into her core self like water melting into water, her inner mind recognizing and accepting her roaming self. She was safe, but that safety was precarious at best. Her firewalls might be impregnable, but if survival of the target weren’t an issue, a massive burst of open power could kill her in minutes.
     
    Vaughn had spent the night pounding out his frustration on a new sculpture—he couldn’t stand to work on the one of Faith. But despite his sleepless night, his skin crawled with energy in the midmorning sun. The cat didn’t like being in the same territory as the wolves, even if they were hemmed in by nothing but earth and sky.
    “Nice suit.” Hawke, the SnowDancer alpha and the one who’d called the morning meeting.
    “What’s so urgent?” Lucas scowled. “I have a meeting at Duncan HQ.”
    “Sascha going with you?” The wolf said Sascha’s name as he always did, as if he had some intimate claim on her.
    “It’s a good thing she likes you.” Lucas’s skin pulled taut over the markings that scored the right side of his face. “Hell yes, she’s coming with me. I’m not letting that ice-cold bitch Nikita ignore her. And my mate knows their secrets.” An emphasis on my . After years of distance, Vaughn now understood the urge to claim, to mark, to brand.
    “Indigo found something you should know about.” Hawke jerked his head at his lieutenant.
    The tall female with blue-black hair and cool white skin was beautiful. She was also lethal. Vaughn had seen her take down males twice her size without batting an eye. The cat’s claws pricked at his skin.
    “I ran into a lynx while out on patrol.” She stepped up beside her alpha in a smooth movement that told him her skills were as sharp as ever.
    “No clearance?” Vaughn frowned. The rules about entry into predatory packs’ territories were explicit—if you wanted to visit, you asked permission. Otherwise, in most cases, you were signing on for a quick death. Harsh, but necessary. Without those rules, territorial wars would’ve destroyed them long ago.
    “Yeah. But that’s not the fun part.” Indigo’s jaw was a tight line. “He was out of his mind on Jax.”
    The mind-altering substance was the Psy poison of choice. “What the hell was a changeling doing on Jax?” Its effect on the Psy was well known—not only did the addictive substance eventually destroy their capacity for speech and rational thought, it stripped them of the very abilities that made them Psy. What did that say about their race?
    “He was too out of it to tell me.” Indigo’s namesake eyes narrowed in fury. “The Psy have to be behind this—they invented the stuff. The fucking Council’s trying to