Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

pushing white against her skin. “My twin has a way of being right while hiding things, Lara. You know that. You should’ve double-checked with me.”
    “I didn’t want to distract you at such a critical stage.” Ashaya herself had told Lara the final calibration would take precision work—so much so that the scientist had spent two days away from her mate and son, in the dedicated lab DarkRiver had built for her.
    “No harm done—the serum
wasn’t
ready.” Ashaya went as if to shove a hand through her curls, realized they were bound, and dropped it back on the bed. “For future reference, though, my twin is very, very smart, but she has no moral compass.”
    Sascha made a small sound in the back of her throat. “I didn’t likeAmara when I met her,” she said, clearly still troubled by what she’d described to Lara as an overwhelmingly hostile response. “Even now, she sends a chill through my bones because of the
lack
in her, but that lack isn’t as total as it once was. I don’t think she’ll ever be capable of the normal range of emotions, but she may be showing a stunted kind of awareness of the emotions of others.”
    Ashaya’s face held painful hope. “You’re not certain, though?”
    “No, I’m sorry.” Sascha touched the other woman on the arm. “I have such a strong reaction to her that I find it difficult to get a clear read, and as you said, her intelligence is unquestioned. She’s fully capable of manipulating her responses.”
    Smart enough, Lara thought, to fake empathy.
    “But,” Sascha added, “there
has
been a change in her, that much I can verify. It might simply be the effect of being in a clean psychic network—there’s no DarkMind in the Web of Stars, no hidden miasma that’s seeping into her brain.”
    “I’ll take that.” Swallowing, Ashaya returned her attention to the computronic readout on the panel in front of her. “Unless either of you disagrees, I think it’s time we spoke to Alice.”
    Lara and Sascha both nodded at her to go ahead.
    Pressure injector in hand, the scientist looked to where Sascha’s fingers now intertwined with Alice’s. “Are you sensing anything?”
    “Frustration again,” Sascha said, three deep vertical lines between her eyebrows. “But there’s something else.” Lashes lowering, she squeezed the bridge of her nose between the thumb and forefinger of her free hand. “Determination.” Her eyes flicked open. “I’d bet my life she’s trying her hardest to wake up.”
    “That’s enough for me.” With no more hesitation, Ashaya pressed the pressure injector to Alice’s neck, punching the serum into her bloodstream. “The effect should be apparent within two or three minutes if it works as it’s supposed to.”
    No one said a word, the silence so pristine Lara could hear the hushed breaths of everyone in the immediate area, including Eli and Adria. If the room had boasted an old-fashioned ticking clock, she thought, every tick would’ve sounded like a bomb.
    One minute.
    Checking the data coming in through Alice’s computronic skullcap, Lara shook her head at the others.
    Two minutes.
    It was Ashaya who checked this time, her fingers flying over the panel. “No change.”
    Three minutes.
    Four.
    Five.
    Disappointment a heavy rock on her chest, Lara squeezed Ashaya’s arm in silent sympathy, and they walked to stand across from Sascha. However, the cardinal empath paid them no attention, her eyes gone a midnight that denoted either strong emotion—or a powerful use of her abilities.
    Exchanging a taut, hopeful glance with Ashaya, Lara maintained her silence.
    “Ashaya,” Sascha said almost half a minute later, her voice muted, as if her attention was elsewhere, “do you have more of the serum?”
    “Yes, but a second shot could kill her.” Ashaya fiddled with the settings on the injector, paused for a second. “Amara’s confident we can safely give her another eighth of a dose.”
    Recalling the other woman’s earlier warnings, Lara turned to her. “You trust her on that?”
    “This is a challenge.” Ashaya’s answer held a clarity that said she saw her twin’s faults and flaws as well as her gifts. “Amara doesn’t like failing, and Alice’s death would constitute failure.”
    “I can feel her struggling,” Sascha said, her fingers now locked so tightly with Alice’s that the warm honey of her skin was bloodless. “She knows she’s trapped—there’s panic, fear. God, it’s like she’s