Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Yakov knew the Psy needed the PsyNet to survive. All their minds were connected to it, and it provided critical biofeedback to their brains. People like Silver who were linked to others outside the Net would survive a collapse, but the vast majority of the psychic race was unconnected to anyone on the outside.
And now, their PsyNet was failing.
Each time the Net fractured, it forcibly ejected Psy minds from it. People died, crumpling on the streets, in their workplaces, at home. Yakov had witnessed it once—seen Psy go down like marionettes with their strings cut. No warning. No way to assist unless you were a Psy with a mind powerful enough to throw people back into an undamaged part of the network before they went terminal.
It had been horrific.
So when Silver shot him a message asking him to come in, he’d figured the fallout must’ve hit a nearby area and she needed more brawn on the ground. Worst case, it would be to help with body retrieval. Best case would be to provide security because the collapse had been caught in time, but people were injured and agitated.
Turned out he was wrong about that.
“It wasn’t a major fracture,” Silver told him from where she sat at her desk, while he sprawled in a chair on the other side, Moscow waking to a misty morning in the floor-to-ceiling window behind her. “Nothing compared to the chaos of the incident that led to the creation of the PsyNet Island.”
The Island, as everyone was terming it, because it was the only one in the entire PsyNet, had been created in a maelstrom of violence. From what Yakov understood, that piece of the Net now floated in the network but was separated from it by “dead” air.
“The best metaphor we have for non-Psy is that of a moat,” a talking head on the local newscast had explained. “The dead air around the Island creates that moat. The only difference is that we can’t build a bridge over it, nor can we swim to it. There is no way to the Island, or off the Island.”
Yakov’s brain hurt at times when it came to PsyNet information, but the moat reference was an excellent one and had allowed him to visualize the situation. “I saw on the latest newscast that it’s considered stable now.”
“Yes, Ivan’s done an excellent job in only two weeks,” Silver said, pride a hum beneath the words, “but there’s so much he doesn’t know, and we can’t help him, since none of us can even get to the Island.”
“Well, the man is a Mercant,” Yakov said in an effort to ease her concern—because he got it. The Mercants were as much a clan as StoneWater. Not being able to help a clanmate? It hurt. “I’m sure a member of Spies R Us will find a way to get the data he needs.”
Silver’s lips twitched. “Do not repeat that around my grandmother or I can’t vouch for your safety.”
Despite the amused warning, there was no hiding the worry that hovered near-constantly in the silvery blue of her eyes.
“You should go home,” he muttered. “You need the embrace of clan. I’m surprised Valya didn’t just haul you back when you tried to leave.” A reference to her first stay with StoneWater when they’d all assumed that Valentin had given in to his basest bear instincts and kidnapped her.
“He tried to make me stay.” Silver’s smile was subtle. “I, however, am made of sterner stock—and he has duties in the den today. Several of the tiny gangsters are starting school and you know how much strength they gain from him.”
“Yes. They need him.” Changeling bear cubs might be ninety percent feral and utterly fearless most of the time, but they were babies, too, and going to school—even the small school in the heart of bear territory—for the first time was scary. Valentin literally held their tiny hands and walked them in, cuddled them if they needed it, and hung around until they’d settled in with their friends.
Of course their parents or guardians were also present, taking pictures and gushing, but Valentin’s presence was far from an intrusion. Every adult in the den knew that for a predatory changeling, an alpha’s touch and guidance was, at times, a stark necessity. And their Valya was a good alpha not only for his strength and intelligence but because of his enormous heart.
“I can’t remember my first day of school,” he told Silver, “but my father says that Pasha and I exchanged glances on the doorstep, hitched our daypacks up our backs, and strode in like we were trouble and we knew it.” Akili Stepyrev’s hazel-brown eyes had been bright with laughter and pride against the warm brown of his skin as he told that story.
Today, Silver’s expression grew even warmer. Look at her like this and you’d never know her for the ice-cold telepath Valentin had first courted. “Funnily enough, my grandmother says something similar about me. That she’d never seen such a small and determined child—I appeared ready to take over the class.”