"Forecasting stock reports was never this heartbreaking." Faith rubbed at her temples again. "I almost forgot - in the last vision I had, before the grayness came down, I saw Amara, too. The darkness around her - the taint of the DarkMind - it was gone."
Sascha closed her eyes. "I can see her in the Net, and you're right - there's nothing sticking to her."
They both considered that. Faith blew out a breath. "The other man I saw. He was always a killer - the DarkMind only made him worse."
"Amara's never killed," Sascha murmured.
"So now, is she - "
"Good?" Sascha shook her head. "No, there's still an emptiness in her, still the presence of the seed the DarkMind used to get into her psyche. But... let's just wait and see."
Faith nodded. "Why do you think the DarkMind couldn't follow her into our web? The NetMind can." Sascha saw Faith realize the answer even as she spoke. "Because it's caged. The Psy do everything to contain their darker emotions, and so the DarkMind is trapped."
"Yes." Something else clicked in Sascha's brain. "I wondered how Ashaya managed to remain undiscovered in the Net, especially after she met Dorian. The mating dance simply doesn't allow for emotional distance."
"So why wasn't the force of it leaking out into the Net and giving her away?" Faith's eyes shifted from night-sky to obsidian. "Of course. If some sets of twins are becoming direct reflections of the twinning in the Net, and the DarkMind is attached to Amara - "
" - then the NetMind is attached to Ashaya. It's probably protected her for a long time. It's why no one ever saw her as a rebel threat." Sascha looked at the two women lying in adjoining beds. Identical and yet not. Twin expressions of the split in the PsyNet. It made her wonder if reconciliation was even possible. Or had the Net been irrevocably damaged?
Dorian came awake to the awareness that he was surrounded by Pack. They were everywhere in the air around him. But cutting through that familiar warmth was a shining presence that sang to his soul. His leopard uncurled and he turned his head. "Shaya." There she was, so beautiful.
Her color vibrant, she lay curled up on her side, head pillowed on one hand. Sleeping. Safe. His remembered terror at seeing the gunman inches from her face made him want to bare his teeth and growl. Unable to lie still, he struggled to sit up. He was mildly surprised when no one jumped out to stop him. Taking advantage of his good fortune, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
His legs held after a couple of shaky seconds. He found himself wearing a pair of dark sweatpants, nothing on top. There was a bandage on his neck, but he could tell the wound was almost gone. Medical magic, he guessed.
When he reached Ashaya, he saw she'd been clothed in soft blue flannel pajamas. He just wanted to get in that bed and hold her. Then his senses alerted him to the woman who slept on the third bed in the room. She was dressed in pale yellow and lay on her back. Part of him he hadn't even known was wound up, relaxed.
Ashaya would've been devastated if she'd lost her twin.
Aching with the need to touch her, he was about to hop into Ashaya's bed when his luck ran out. A tall redhead with worry carved into her skin walked into the room, took one look at him, and yelled, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Then she ran up, wrapped her arms around him, and kissed him full on the lips.
"God damn it," she whispered as she drew back. "You fucking took ten years off my life."
"Sorry, Merce." He tugged at one of her loose curls. "Did you kill him?"
"Of course I did. Ripped out his throat." She brushed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "Son of a bitch was dead before he hit the ground."
"And Keenan?"
"No problems. Sascha said Ashaya protected him instinctively - he didn't feel a thing. Now that he can see his mom in the Web, he's as happy as a clam up there with the wolves." A sniff, another rub of her eyes. "We haven't been able to contact your folks."
Relief whispered through him. "Good. They'll take it better if I'm healthy when I tell them."
"That's what I thought." She tapped her finger on Ashaya's mattress. "So you got mated to a Psy."
Mate, he thought and there she was, a link tied straight to his heart. "Yeah."
"Surprise."
Something in her tone made him tear his eyes away from Ashaya's sleeping face. "Merce?" His stomach tightened. "You're not - I mean - " He was suddenly tongue-tied. Mercy had been his best friend forever. Shit, she'd helped him pull more pranks than he could name. "Does it bother you that I'm mated?"
She rolled her eyes and punched him on the shoulder, then steadied him when he swayed. "No, you buffoon. If I'd wanted you, I'd have made my move years ago."
"Hey. I'm injured." Leaning against Ashaya's bed, he pretended to rub his shoulder. "But thank the sweet Lord. I'd hate to think of you carrying around a torch for me. Sorry, Carrot, but I don't see you as a woman."
"Yeah, that's the problem." She snorted. "If you promise not to move after you get in bed with her, I'll leave you to make cow eyes at your mate." It was said with affectionate humor.
He wanted to do exactly that, but Ashaya was still asleep and he'd known Mercy since before they were both out of diapers. "You might as well tell me what's bugging you, or I won't make you godmother to our kids."