Page 73 of Storm Echo

Leilei, something’s happened. You need to come home.

—Farah Khan to Soleil Bijoux Garcia, 13 February 2082

SOLEIL DIDN’T HESITATE when she reached the top of the stairs. She turned straight into the room on the left. Where Ivan lay silent and still on the bed, dressed in nothing but a pair of thin black sweatpants.

Her eyes went to the extremely shallow rise and fall of his chest, his breaths coming too far apart for it to be healthy for a Psy male of his size and age. The fine black tattoos that marked his skin were a shock—Psy just didn’t go for body ink. Except for her Psy, it seemed.

What she caught of the imagery that played over his chest was beautiful but haunting, glimpses of ghosts seen out of the corner of the eye and visions of worlds unknown, but she had other priorities at that moment, her heart racing as she took stock of his physical situation.

She’d learned basic Psy biology and health indicators in the paramedic course but upgraded her knowledge through self-study when things first began to go wrong with the Psy population next to SkyElm. She’d wanted to be ready to render first aid.

So she reacted quickly to take Ivan’s vitals.

His pulse was too slow, his skin cooling further by the second. “Ivan,” she said, using a sharp tone she’d found very effective on patients.

No reaction.

She put her hands on his shoulders, shook. “Ivan!”

The barest flutter of his lashes.

Her mind made the connection at once: it was the increased physical contact that had gotten through to him. Tactile contact was often a strong part of changeling healing, so it made sense to her. And Psydidhave a primal core to their nature; she’d seen the dark side of that on the bloody field of the massacre. This, too, was a matter of life or death, albeit one devoid of violence.

She made the call. She didn’t have any more time. Already, he was missing a breath for each one he took. Stripping off her sweater to reveal the simple white bra she wore underneath, she lay down beside him with her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, making as much skin-to-skin contact as possible.

She also kept saying his name, calling him back to her as she would a traumatized or emotionally wounded changeling. Inside her, her cat swiped out with its paw and she swore she saw streams of shattered starlight.

“Ivan! Wake up!” Then shereachedfor him in a way she couldn’t explain. It felt like she was punching her hand right into the core of his soul, gripping tight, then dragging him out from the suction of a malevolent force.

Ivan’s body went rigid before he took a huge gasp of air, both his arms snapping up to lock around her with such force that she should’ve been afraid. But she wasn’t. Not with him. Never with him.

She continued to hold on as he gulped in air, his body still too cool, but his heartbeat now rapid. “You’re safe.” Her cat butted up against the silver starlight of him in her mind. “I’m here.” She stroked her hand down his side, not the least surprised by the muscle of him. He moved with warrior grace, his body a fluid machine.

“Lei?” A rough sound, his arms yet locked around her.

But when she pushed up, he eased his hold so she could sit up and look down on him. His eyes were open but they were muddy, hazy—and she didn’t like that at all. Her cat was furious that he’d allowed himself to walk this close to the edge, but this wasn’t the time for temper so she throttled it back.

“Psychic burn?” she asked, once again taking his pulse.

He managed to give a nod.

“You need to replace that energy.” When she went to move away, however, his arm tightened a fraction around her waist. She could’ve broken his hold—he had no real leverage given his position—but she noted that his breathing had also speeded up, his pupils expanding.

Soleil understood fear better than most. She had a feeling her Psy had very little experience of it. Whatever had happened had shaken him. “Just need to grab something from my bag,” she said, and managed to reach out from the bed to drag it close.

Shifting so she had her feet on the floor without breaking the contact between their bodies, she dug inside the bag until she found the calorie-boosting sachets she’d thrown in there. Not as good for him as the nutrient packets designed for Psy, but energy was energy. His body would divert it to where it was most needed.

Having spotted a glass of water on the table, she poured two sachets in there and gently shook the glass to try to mix it in. He sat up, was ready to take the glass from her when she passed it across.

His throat muscles moved hard as he gulped it down in the way of young adults playing drinking games. Opening her bottle of water, she refilled his glass as soon as he was done, adding two more sachets to it. He finished that as quickly, then took the nut bar she handed him.

After finishing it, he took the other one she held out. “How did you know I needed an assist?” he asked after eating half that second one.

Soleil threw up her hands. “Of course I knew!” And, now that she could see he was safe, she gave in to the squeaking, excited bouncing in her heart and picked up the small cat planter she’d seen on the table when she’d picked up the glass of water. “I gave you this.”

He’d frozen when she touched it, now nodded. “Have you remembered?” Rough words.

“Pieces.” Pieces that made her ache with the hunger to know more. “Will you tell me what I’ve forgotten?”

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