Page 71 of Primal Mirror

“Keep her isolated to the infirmary—which shouldn’t be difficult given her current state.” Aden held up a hand when Remi would’ve spoken. “Right now, her mind is safe because I’m protecting it—when I need to pull my energy, Zaira will take over. No one will ever be able to get to her.

“But PsyNet shields are different from the ones she has against telepathic powers—which means she’ll be vulnerable once she returns to her household.”

It’s not my home. It’s my mother’s house.

Auden’s words vibrated inside Remi’s mind.

“The instant she leaves,” the Arrow leader continued, “you need to alter the room in a way that no one can use it as a teleport lock. Easiest way would be to clear the equipment or cover it, and splash the room with a different color paint.

“A messy solution, but in combination with the shifting of equipment, it’ll distort the teleport lock—unless she has an image point that’s hyper-specific, unique, and can’t be changed. A chipped tile in a distinctive pattern, for example.”

“No, the room is all but new. Smooth lines, clean walls, only necessary equipment in there.”

“Good. That’ll help.” Aden’s eyes went to the room where the healers fought for the lives of a woman and a child who deserved to feel safe, feel protected. “I know you hate the idea of caging anyone, but every other part of your aerie community is unique in many ways. Teleporters who can lock onto faces are rare, but a specific enough location lock ameliorates that—the enemy could teleport into the center of the pack with ill intent.”

“I understand.” His alpha’s heart pulsed at the idea of any such harm coming to RainFire—and it raged against trapping Auden and her cub. She’d already been wounded over and over again by the people who were supposed to care for her—and now he was being backed into a corner, forced to stifle what little freedom she’d managed to claw for herself.

Never before had he so totally hated himself for the decision he had to make.

Chapter 29

The Mother found you. She was angry you weren’t hers. I heard. I told the others. I said we should ask you. If you could say no to her, you must be strong. Will you be our Father now?

—PsyNet message from unknown sender to Pax Marshall (circa September 2083)

PAX MARSHALL, HEAD of the Marshall Group, stood on the balcony of his San Francisco apartment, the setting sun’s rays a dance of gold and orange on the silvery waters of the bay.

Father. Father. Father.

It was a constant murmur in the back of his brain now, the whisper of his Scarabs. Because they were his. Who else was going to look after their tormented souls? He was the most powerful one, and he was the lucky one.

Because he had his twin.

The far better half of their pairing.

And a big part of the reason he was sane while other Scarabs had lost their grip on reality.

His sister wouldn’t understand his choice, would tell him to take the Scarabs to a treatment facility. But that was just it. Pax knew the options, knew that there just weren’t enough specialist empaths to help all the Scarabs.

The Es were burning themselves out trying, but they couldn’t force abilities that weren’t there—because it was only a subset of a subset of Es who could stabilize Scarabs. The rest…could put on Band-Aids. Short-term fixes that dulled the mind and the heart in the quest for sanity.

A soft cage.

How could Pax lead all these broken people to that? They hadn’t done anything wrong. All of them—Pax included—had simply been unlucky enough to be born with a mind that was never designed to process the amount of power that now rushed through their system.

Silence had hidden that flaw their entire lifetimes. Its fall had opened floodgates that could never be closed, their power driving them to madness as it filled them to overflowing with delusions endless.

The others in the PsyNet had little sympathy for them these days, even knowing they were victims of their own minds. Because the erratic Scarab energy was a large part of the reason the PsyNet was on the brink of collapse. It had been heading that way prior to the rise of the Scarabs, but Pax’s kind had sped up the disintegration to critical.

Major tears in the psychic fabric, casualty after casualty, were a daily occurrence now. The PsyNet couldn’t be saved. His sister, his twin, his heart, would be fine. When the time came, she’d be wrenched into the changeling network inhabited by her bear mate.

As for Pax and his Scarabs…if they were to die anyway, wouldn’t it be better that they die alive and dazzling in their manic brilliance?

One final incandescent flame before the lights went out forever.

Chapter 30

I see a spider…filaments of blue. Death. Light. Anarchy. Order. Screams. Peace. I can’t untangle it. Two different timelines melded into one. It doesn’t make any sense.

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