E.
“Not so far.” Alexei’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Aden’s people are nothing if not relentless—they will eventually track him down, but it’ll take time.”
Time was the one thing the kidnapped empath didn’t have. Not only her, but all the women who would die to feed Renault’s twisted psyche; he’d murdered before Memory and she had zero doubts he’d continue to murder now that she’d escaped. “I know him,” she said, turning years of forced proximity into a weapon. “It’s possible that once I see the location of the kidnapping, I can work out where he might’ve gone.”
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“I have his scent.” Alexei’s voice was without growl, pure focused predator. “If we can determine where he ended his teleport, I can track him.”
When they got to the location of the kidnapping—a small townhouse in the Nob Hill area—it was to be greeted by a leopard changeling who confirmed Renault had teleported in and out. The DarkRiver changeling’s jaw was scruffy, his eyes nightglow. “I picked up an unknown scent in only one area of the home—by the little girl’s desk. It’s in front of a window. Caught the same scent outside the window.”
Memory gritted her teeth. “He saw her, teleported in.” All Renault needed was a clear enough visual of his intended location. “He had to have stalked her beforehand, knew she was an E.”
Alexei’s gaze scanned the area, a steely hardness to him she’d never before seen. “Parents?”
“Single dad. Hard to read, but he recently transferred his daughter to a school that has an E on staff and runs an E training course alongside telepathy and all the rest.”
Memory’s heart hurt for a father who so obviously cared. “I want to go in, see if I can pick up anything.” Maybe Renault had made a mistake others had missed; it was likely a fruitless hope, but she had to try.
Alexei and the leopard came with her, the two having a low-voiced discussion about the circumference of Renault’s teleporting ability and how they could utilize their resources to box him in.
All Memory could think about was a scared eight-year-old girl. That girl’s father sat on the sofa in the living area with his head in his hands. The pale-skinned man who couldn’t have been more than thirty-five looked up when she entered. His eyes hitched on her hair. She knew without asking that his daughter had curls and brown skin.
Walking over to the delicate white desk by the window when he said nothing, Memory went to look out the window . . . and a wave of frigid cold swept over her. Not winter cold. This was the endless cold of psychopathic nothingness. It crept into her bones, chilled her from the inside out . . . and tugged her to the left.
Not knowing what was happening, she searched frantically for a door on her left, but there was only a wall. She ran outside in silence, conscious of Alexei and the leopard following. She’d been scared she’d lose the connection, but it held.
“I can feel him,” she whispered, her chest heaving. “Like we’re connected by an invisible thread.” She saw no evidence of a bond when she glanced into the Net. Renault had probably hidden it. Or maybe . . . “I don’t think this is supposed to exist.” She tried to breathe, think, hold on to that thread. “He can’t know about it or he’d have cut it.”
Her mind raced. “I was under his control.” Inside his shields, suffocated and isolated. “He never worried if, while he was creating pathways into my mind, he was also accidentally creating a path in the other direction.” Was it possible Memory could walk into his mind as he’d done hers?
Revulsion crawled over her, but she tried.
Nothing. No sense of Renault, but the tug to the left stayed steady.
“Can he track you in return?” Alexei’s eyes glowed wild amber.
“Even if he can, he needs physical contact to take control, and I have shields now.” Amara was far stronger than Renault and, as of this week, Memory could rebuff her attempts at an unwilling transfer. “If I can hold off a 9.9, I should have no problems with an 8.7.” Renault might be a serial murderer, but that didn’t matter, not in this.
Memory also had no fear the past would paralyze her. If she’d fought back in the bunker, she sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now that she’d tasted freedom, fought with a