Psy & Changelings 11 - Tangle of Need

controlling.”
    Thorsen shook his head, his face holding the wisdom of someone who had lived well more than twice her lifetime. “Do you not see? Once they have shattered a larger, more critical section of the Net, the ones behind this will make it known they’ll break other parts, murder other anchors, unless those anchors swear fealty to them.”
    Adria frowned. “What advantage would that give them? As I understand it, you stabilize the Net, nothing more.” The answer came to her as the last word left her lips. “If you stabilize the Net,” she said, realizing the true level of cold intelligence behind the sadistic plan, “you can destabilize it.” That destabilization had the potential to affect thousands, tens of thousands at a time. “What better way to control the masses than to let them know their very lives hang in the balance.” One step out of line and the Net itself could be collapsed around them, their lifeline extinguished. And unlike the Laurens, most ordinary Psy likely didn’t know
how
to defect into a smaller network, much less have the psychic and psychological strength to pull it off.
    “Excellent,” Thorsen said, sounding like the teacher he was. “Of course, such a practice can’t be maintained long term. The reason anchors themselves don’t destabilize the Net and hold everyone hostage, isn’t only because it would be an irrational act, but because we’re so deeplyconnected to it, any damage we do rebounds back on us. I might survive it once or twice, but beyond that…” He rubbed at his temples.
    Her wolf went on alert. “What’s the matter? Telepathic attack?” If so, she had Judd on standby. He could teleport in and hopefully disrupt the process.
    Lines of pain radiated out from the professor’s eyes. “No. Dissonance programming—it appears I am not meant to talk of such things.” He dropped his hand, his breathing rough. “It’s excruciating on one level, but I’ve become somewhat numbed to it over the years.”
    “Because a man of learning,” she said, pouring him a glass of water from a nearby jug, “doesn’t like having his thoughts truncated.” He wouldn’t call it bravery, wouldn’t even call it an emotional decision, but he’d made a stand in his own quiet way. “What do you think you’ll see in the next decade of your life?”
    His eyes were calm, his answer brutal. “War.”
    RIAZ halted in the doorway of the meeting room on the lower floor of the same art deco hotel in San Francisco. “Where’s Bo?”
    Looking up from the other side of the small oval table, Lisette said, “He flew back to Venice an hour ago,” in that distinctive clear tone of hers. “There was another attempt to take Alliance personnel. Everyone’s safe, but he wants to be there on the ground. He assumed you’d be fine working out the final details with me.”
    “Of course,” he said, making a mental note to follow up on the attack with her later in the day. As liaison, Lisette should have the most up-to-date information. “Have you been through the communication protocols I e-mailed through? Any problems?”
    Lisette’s smile was soft. “Won’t you sit?”
    He took a chair across from her, and it was the first time he’d really looked at her since her arrival in the country. The impact was … unexpected. The primal draw he felt toward her hadn’t disappeared, but it had dulled to background noise, leaving him clearheaded and in control. What had him taking a deep, quiet breath was that his wolf, too,showed no desire to wrench at the reins, to lunge at her. It lay quiet, watchful.
    Lisette lifted a hand in a graceful motion, the fine gold bracelet around her wrist sliding lower down her arm. “I have no issues with the protocols. I should’ve told you that in my e-mail, but I … wanted to talk.”
    He took in the shadows under her eyes, the paleness of her skin, felt his protective instincts stir. “What’s the matter?”
    “I’m sorry.” She swallowed, shook her head. “I don’t know why—” Another head shake before her face crumpled.
    “Hey, hey.” Walking around the table, he crouched down beside her, taking her hands into his. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
    It took her several minutes to catch her breath. “I haven’t spoken to Emil in a month,” she whispered, her eyes red.
    “Ah, Lisette.” Rising, he pulled her into a hug.
    She held on tight to him. “I don’t know why I can speak to you about this, why it feels so easy.”