Dev pushed through the door to another apartment well over an hour later. He'd meant to head there straight after he'd shown Katya to her room, but he'd been in no mood to talk to a traumatized child. Not when he felt like an abuser himself.
His lips set in a tight line. That wasn't coincidence. Nani had been right - someone had put a lot of thought into creating Katya, giving her vulnerabilities designed to play on his deepest instincts. He could deal with sniveling mercenary traitors without losing sleep, even with those who were driven by other hatreds. But he had a big fucking blind spot when it came to women who'd been battered and abused.
Knowing that should've neutralized his response to the woman he'd locked into the twelfth-floor suite, but all it did was make him aware of the depth of his weakness.
"Dev."
Jerking up his head at the sound of Glen's voice, he glanced toward the open doorway to the left. "Kid in there?"
Glen gave a small nod. "We moved him up here after he started to regain consciousness. It's more homey than the clinic."
"That's fine - but you've got guards on him?" Dev wasn't worried about the kid's physical strength - it was the psychic plane that concerned him. Some of the New Generation abilities could be lethal.
"Tag's here," Glen said. "I realized we'd need another telepath to control this one."
Dev had already picked up the echo of Tag's distinctive mental energy. One of the very few true telepaths in the ShadowNet, the other man had had a truly horrific childhood. There were some who said it was a miracle he hadn't gone insane. Dev didn't think it had anything to do with miracles - Tag was just one tough son of a bitch. "The boy tell you anything else?"
Glen rubbed at his face, looking haggard in a way Dev had never seen him look - as if the weight of experience threatened to crush him. "Glen?"
"The boy - Cruz," the doctor began, "is worse than messed up. The drugs they kept him on blocked his psychic pathways, but they also stunted his development."
"Fuck." Like the Psy, and depending on the depth of their genetic inheritance, many of the Forgotten didn't react well to human drugs. "Brain damage?" Doctors today could fix a hell of a lot, but even they couldn't heal brain cells after they'd been fatally compromised.
To his relief, Glen shook his head. "No. His intellect is fine - it's his psychic development that's been seriously impaired."
"He's not as strong as he could've been?"
Again, Glen surprised him by shaking his head. "Kid's off the charts. Tag says he's cardinal level."
Dev sucked in a breath. "That shouldn't be possible." Cardinals were rare, so rare, though the populace could've been forgiven for thinking otherwise with the recent high-profile defections of two cardinals from the Net. But Sascha Duncan and Faith NightStar were part of a very, very exclusive club. Across the world, there were millions upon millions of Psy. If there were even five thousand cardinals among that number, it would be more than Dev expected. "He can't have cardinal eyes." White stars on black, the eyes of the most powerfully gifted Psy were both eerie and startlingly unique.
"No - human," Glen confirmed. "His genetic structure is mixed, like the rest of us. But when Tag drops the shields he's holding on Cruz, the boy's power will hit you like a hurricane."
Dev ignored the obvious statement. "You're telling me this boy has no shields of his own?"
The bags under Glen's eyes seemed to grow ever deeper. "Yes. And while he might be of mixed blood, he's got a phenomenal number of active Psy genes, so many recessive pairs . . ." Glen shook his head. "His psychic channels are blocked as long as he's on the drugs, but take him off and they blow wide open."
"Damn." Dev thrust his hands through his hair, rapidly considering and discarding options. "He'll go insane if we don't figure out a way to give him permanent protection."
"I considered a milder dosage of the drugs," Glen said, "even though I hate putting our children on anything."
"But?"
"But those drugs basically turn him into a zombie." He glanced toward the doorway, compassion in every tired line of his face.
"Does he understand what's happened?"
"Tag hasn't been able to draw him out - Cruz probably sees him as his jailer, so that's not much of a surprise."
Dev recoiled inwardly, remembering Katya's turned back, her empty voice. "I'll talk to him. Is there anything else I need to know?" Shoving everything but Cruz to the back of his mind, he took off his suit jacket, then undid and removed his tie before undoing the top buttons on his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. No use going into a child's room looking like the school principal.
"He's got no family as far as we can figure out - Aryan's team tracked him on the ShadowNet."
"Why didn't we pick him up if he's linked in?"Not every Forgotten needed the biofeedback provided by the ShadowNet - like so many things, it depended on their complicated genetic structure. "This is why we constantly run those seminars, so adults know to look out for minors who might need help."
"Because no one could 'see' him," Glen replied. "Boy's completely isolated."
That, Dev knew, should've been impossible. Everyone had someone to whom they felt connected, even if that connection was an unhealthy one neither party would choose. "Aw, hell." No wonder the kid was scared. Making a decision, he rubbed at his jaw. "Can Tag keep a hold on Cruz from outside the room?"
"Yes. You want to be alone with him?"
At Dev's nod, Glen went to the bedroom doorway and waved Tag out. The big man walked into the living area on silent feet, his eyes blazing with fury. "I could strangle his grandparents."
Dev shook his head. "Not if I got to shoot them first." If Cruz had been brought in as per protocol, he would've been taught to develop and protect his powers from childhood. Now, they might be lucky to salvage his sanity. "I could be a while. You okay to hold the shield?"
"I can do it twenty-four hours a day if necessary," Tag said. "Kid's not fighting me - doesn't know how. But I have to remain within a certain radius."
"Can Tiara spell you?"
Tag turned his head but not before Dev glimpsed the dark red flush along the tops of his cheekbones. "She just got on an airjet from Paris."
Glen's eyes lit up with unholy glee. "You must be looking forward to catching up with her."
"I'll beat you both up if you don't shut it."
Glad for the tiny burst of amusement, even if it came nowhere close to easing the ice around his soul, Dev walked into Cruz's room, shutting the door behind himself. The boy was curled up on his side, his ten-year-old body much smaller than it should've been.
His hair was dark and silky - and cut in a bowl shape that would've sent most kids howling to their moms. But Cruz didn't have a mom to complain to. And, until the past few hours, he probably hadn't even realized what he looked like. Now, the boy's huge, dark eyes followed Dev as he grabbed a chair and pulled it forward so he was sitting at Cruz's bedside. That was when he got the first shock.
Glen had said Cruz's eyes were human. They weren't. This close, Dev saw the odd flicker of dark gold in the depths of the near-black irises. Extraordinary. Why had no one noticed? Thinking back, he found the answer - it was possible the drugs had messed Cruz up so completely his gaze had gone dull, too.
"I'm Dev," he said, and waited. Cruz was a ghost to his psychic senses, so slight as to be nonexistent.
The boy didn't say a word.
Smiling, Dev took a different tack. "You're not going to believe this, but I was once your age. If I'd had that haircut inflicted on me, I'd have done serious damage to the hairdresser."
A blink. Nothing else.
"You want me to organize someone to fix it?"
Another blink, but slower this time.
Dev grinned. "Or you could keep it. Women seemed to find it cute on a kid. You'll probably get spoiled half to death."
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.