Cruz raised a hand to his hair, pulling it forward as if to see the color. "My mom used to cut my hair." His voice was quiet. . . and full of a vicious psychic power he had no ability to control.
PETROKOV FAMILY ARCHIVES
Letter dated May 25, 1975
Dear Matthew,
Your sister Emily sleeps beside me, but even her sweet smile can't stop the grief that ravages my heart. Your father . . . I always knew that as a foreseer, he was at a far higher risk of mental illness than the majority of the population. And yet I tried not to know. Because he is my heart - I don't know what I would do without him.
He admitted himself to a psychiatric ward today. I begged him not to go. I'm scared of the currents in the Net, the wave of support for Silence. Ever since the Adelajas provided the "proof" of their sons, more and more people are being swayed to the Council's way of thinking. What proof, I ask you. Where are Tendaji and Naeem? Why do we never see them anymore?
No one will answer my questions, and now I'm afraid for my position in the ministry. I'm speaking too loudly. It's not in my nature to close my mouth, but we need the money. So I'll try to listen instead. And I'll pray that your father comes home soon.
With all my love,
Mom
Chapter 21
Katya had been through every room of the apartment. It was a generous space - bedroom, bathroom, and a kitchenette that flowed off the wide main living area. But there was no getting out of it except through the front door, no avenues of escape whatsoever. Even the knives in the kitchen were small, barely sharp enough to cut fruit.
Devraj Santos was not a stupid man.
At least, she thought, trying to find a silver lining, he respected her skills enough to put her in a place from which only a teleporter might be able to escape. Too bad that wasn't part of her psychic skill set.
Another piece of memory slotted into the jigsaw that was her mind.
Her eyes widened. "Of course." She'd been ignoring the very thing that made her different, that made her unique. Yes, she was a telepath - level 4.5 on the Gradient. That meant she was - just - a midrange Tp-Psy. She was also a Gradient 4.9 M-Psy.
Two midrange abilities.
What she'd just realized was that a person with two midrange abilities could sometimes create an amplification effect - usually on only one of the abilities. However, that effect was so unpredictable that it could be hidden by the user - and she'd hidden hers; otherwise, she would've been pressed into a very different kind of service.
That's why, she thought, seeing a complete chunk of her past in one clean sweep, she and Ashaya had worked so well together in their rebellious activities - Katya had been able to get messages out to almost everyone in the resistance. Because when she exercised her ability to amplify, her Tp skills went from 4.5 to 9 on the Gradient.
And a level 9 telepath could talk to pretty much anyone she wanted. But - she frowned - she hadn't, not for those last months. Why? Her hands lifted to her head, the heels of palms pressing against her temples.
A dart of pain, but it pulled the memory with it.
"Everything that can be done low-tech" - Ashaya's familiar voice - "we do that way. He suspects you, Ekaterina. And I need you too much to lose you to him."
"My telepathy would make things quantifiably easier."
"Not if you're dead. It takes energy for you to merge your abilities - it'll be noticed if you increase your intake of nutrients, if you sleep more."
Katya staggered as her mind ricocheted back to the present. Ashaya had been right - the shadow-man. . .Ming - another flash of memory, her torturer's identity delineated with flawless clarity - had suspected her. But now there was no one to watch her, to see if she suddenly changed her eating or sleeping habits. Ming had blocked her access to the Net, but he hadn't done anything to stifle her ability to use her inborn talents. A chill spread over her heart - he might even have programmed her to use those talents exactly as she was thinking of doing.
A moment of paralysis. "No." She tilted her chin, forced herself to breathe.
If she let fear stop her, he would have truly won. She had to go forward believing her actions were her own, trusting that she'd somehow risen from the ashes, begun to reform her personality, become the phoenix that lived in her soul.
Surely, surely Ming hadn't considered her firestorm reaction to Dev, or how that reaction would make her want to become stronger - so she could hold her own against the relentless strength of him. "The only way to know is to try."
Taking a deep breath, she relaxed into an armchair and closed her eyes. Usually when she used Tp, she was aiming for a specific destination - a particular mind. But, as a telepath, she could also "hear" others if she opened her senses. However, like most of her designation, she kept that aspect of her mind locked tight the majority of the time - even in the PsyNet, there were individuals whose shields leaked a constant flow of thought. Multiply that irritation by thousands and you had a recipe for madness.
And here, outside the Net? It was likely to be a million times worse. The majority of humans didn't have anything but the most basic shields. Given their history, the Forgotten were likely to be a fraction more sophisticated, but there would still be any number of leaks, of voices.
Soothing the butterflies in her stomach with the knowledge that she could shut off the open pathways at any instant, she gripped the arms of the armchair and dropped her internal shields.