“Well, they do say we originated from the same primordial ooze.”
Katya searched the foggy banks of her memory, came up with more data. “If the Council succeeds in maintaining Silence,” she said, aligning her body until every muscle was in perfect tune, “and the majority of Psy mate only with other Psy, there’s a possibility they’ll evolve in a completely different direction.”
“That kind of evolution would take a helluva long time. Personally, I don’t think it’ll happen.” An easy shrug as she watched Katya complete her set. “I think the humanity in Psy will rise to the surface.”
As Katya’s feet came down on the grass, rooting her to the earth, she shook her head. “That assumes there’s some humanity still present in them.” And after her endless hours with Ming, she knew there wasn’t.
Dev was on his way to talk to Katya later that evening when he got a call from Maggie. As a result, he ended up spending over two hours on a conference call with a number of people high up in Shine—all of whom were starting to panic about the rising rate of incidents.
For once, however, the meeting didn’t degenerate into an argument—despite the fact that Dev’s cousin Jack was pushing for a solution Dev refused to accept. When he finally hung up, it was with a feeling of exhaustion weighing down his shoulders. He wanted to go to Katya, to be with her, even if he couldn’t share the fears that threatened to splinter the Forgotten, but the hour was well past eleven, and according to Tiara, both Tag and Katya had gone to bed around ten, after the two women chatted over a late dinner. Dev wasn’t sure quite what to make of that. Tiara got along with almost everyone, but she was also fiercely loyal to Shine.
Reaching back to pull off his T-shirt in preparation for catching a few hours’ sleep, he froze at the sound of a short, sharp scream, cut off almost before it began.
By the time he slammed into Katya’s room, she was sitting up in bed, staring at the sheets.
“What happened?” he asked, sensing Tiara return to her watch in the front.
“The boy,” she whispered, “he was such a beautiful boy.” Her hand shook as she raised it to her face. She dropped it midway, as if she’d forgotten what she meant to do. “I couldn’t help him.”
He didn’t interrupt, realizing he was hearing an inner nightmare.
“I tried to protect him, but then Larsen asked for him and I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t stop him.” Her throat worked as she swallowed. “I wanted to stab Larsen through the heart with his own scalpel, but if I had, then Ming LeBon would’ve known we were traitors and all the children would’ve died.”
“The boy survived,” he reminded her. “I told you that. I don’t know why Ashaya nev—”
She shook her head. “It was to protect me. To protect the children. The less I knew, the less they could take from me if I was ever broken.”
“You don’t have to worry about that anymore—you won’t be retaken.” Dev did not let go of what was his. “And Jon—that’s his name—is safe. The Council knows if they touch the boy, it’s a declaration of war.”
“Jon . . . Jonquil Duchslaya,” she murmured slowly. “I’m glad he’s protected . . . God, he screamed so much.” She dropped her head in her hands, her entire body shaking. “And I had to pretend that it didn’t matter, that I didn’t care.”
His own body strained toward her, but how could he go to her when he’d put her in a cage himself? “You shouldn’t have. You were Silent—without emotion.”
She lifted her head, eyes shining in the light coming in from the corridor. “There’s being cold, and then there’s such a thing as being without conscience. I’ve always had a conscience, and it keeps me awake every single night.”
“Katya,” he began, not knowing what he was going to say.
“Do you think he’d see me? Jon?” She folded her arms around herself. “I need to say sorry. I need to do that much at least.”
Dev knew about demons, saw too many in her eyes. Losing the war to keep his distance, he closed the door and crossed the carpet. “I’ll ask.”
“Thank you.” She scooted back as he sat down on the bed. “You should go now.”
“I’m not leaving you like this.” Her eyes were stark in a face gone white, her body shivering in spite of the blankets.
“I want to be alone.”
“The hell you do.” Swearing under his breath, he got into the bed and, ignoring Katya’s protests, maneuvered her into his lap. “Quiet,” he snapped when she pushed at him.
She went still. “Even I know that’s not the appropriate thing to say in this situation.”