It's as I thought - the attempt to condition rage out of our young is failing. But that isn't the most disturbing news. Today, I read a confidential report that says the Council has begun to consider the effective elimination of all our emotions.
My hand shakes as I write this. Can't they see what they're asking? What they're destroying?
Mom
Chapter 7
Three days later, Dev had the answer to his question.
"We've rechecked with our source," Dorian told him over the communications panel. "She's officially listed as deceased."
"Ming had to have taken her out beforehand. Unless your intel says otherwise?"
"No. With Ekaterina - "
"Katya," Dev corrected automatically.
"Right." The sentinel gave a single sharp nod. "Well, with Katya, he really cleaned up his tracks - apparently, there's not even a whisper that she survived the explosion. Ashaya's starting to think the amnesia could be the side effect of a psychic block of some sort, something that stops her from betraying herself on the Net."
"We're working on that." The Forgotten had changed over the years, but they still had telepaths in their midst, still had those who could work with minds wrapped in a mental prison. Dev knew the painful certainty of that far too well.
"You need any of us, all you have to do is say the word. Sascha, Faith, Shaya," Dorian said, naming three of the powerful Psy in his pack, "they're ready to drop everything to help Katya."
"Until we know how dangerous she is, I can't chance that," Dev answered. "Shine might be the main target, but if I know the Council, they'll use the opportunity to hurt anyone they can. DarkRiver is a real thorn in their side." All true. But there was another truth - in asking him to end her life, Katya had put that life in his hands - he'd allow no one else to interfere. "I'll let you know if we find anything more."
Dev had just hung up when Glen paged him down to the medical floor. "She's ready to be discharged," the doctor told Dev as soon as he arrived. "I've given her several bottles of supplements - combine those with a steady diet and she should bounce back fairly quickly."
Dev's shoulders tensed as he was reminded of exactly how badly she'd been treated, but he made himself focus on the issue at hand. "Any indications of her abilities?"
"According to the tests we've run, she's midlevel in terms of strength. Can't yet tell you what type of ability she has, but what I can tell you is that she doesn't appear to be accessing it at present."
That lowered the level of threat, but - "We need to keep her close until we figure out why she was sent in."
"I can't justify holding her down here." Glen's boyish face set in stubborn lines that might've surprised many. "It's a nice-enough clinic, but she needs sunlight, fresh air."
"I can't set her free, Glen, you know that." Yeah, it made him feel like a bastard, but his ability to be a bastard was why he'd been chosen as director. Metal was his gift, and perhaps his curse, but that growing layer of metallic ice meant he didn't hesitate to do what needed to be done.
The doctor pinched his nose. "The Hippocratic oath doesn't differentiate between friend and enemy."
"I know. That's why you have me." Squeezing the other man's shoulder, he turned toward Katya's room.
"Dev." Glen's expression was troubled when Dev looked back at him. "You can't keep being responsible for all the tough decisions."
"I made that choice when I took the job." Or perhaps he'd made it decades ago, the day the cops found him lying half-broken in the corner of his parents' bedroom. That was the day he'd first felt the metal, first begun to sense the cold intelligence of the machines around him.
Glen shook his head. "It doesn't have to be you. Shine has a board."
Yes, it did. And that board was now made up of men and women who wouldn't simply look the other away when reality became too harsh, too uncomfortable. But - "A good leader never asks his troops to do anything he can't." Shifting on his heel, he said, "Go home, Glen. Get some sleep."
"Not until I know what you're going to do with her."
That was when Dev realized Glen didn't trust him to not hurt the woman who, by her simple existence, her survival, reached parts of him he preferred to leave in darkness. It was a blow . . . and it showed just how much he'd changed from the man Glen had first called friend. "I'm not that far gone yet," he said softly.
"No . . . not yet," the doctor echoed as Dev crossed the doorway into Katya's room.
He found her sitting on the bed dressed in a new pair of blue jeans and a white T-shirt, having thrown on a heavy gray sweatshirt over the top. Her shoulder-length hair had been plaited into a tight French braid, and there were out-of-the-box-white sneakers on her feet. Her lips lifted in a tentative smile when she saw him. "Hi."
And that quickly, the metal threatened to retreat, to leave him wide open to the raging protectiveness that slammed into his skin with brutal force. "Where're your boots, your coat?" he asked, and the words were hard.