The changeling knelt by the teacher. “I’ll make sure they get home safe,” he said, his voice holding a growl, then he shepherded the children away.
Certain the children were in hands that would protect not harm, Vasic met up with the two other Arrows on the scene. Younger and less experienced, they looked to him for direction. “Separate the injured noninfected from the infected,” he ordered. “The latter will need to be restrained if they don’t slip into comas.”
“Sir, triage?” the female Arrow asked.
“The noninfected are to be treated first.” It was a ruthless but practical decision. “The infected rate of survival is currently zero, regardless of their physical health.”
That done, he started to go over the scene. He tagged the dead so the medics wouldn’t have to waste time searching through the bodies themselves, then he shifted the corpses to the back of the street. Behind him, the medics worked at rapid speed to assist the wounded.
Judging the situation was now under control, with the local authorities out in force, he was about to begin clearing the low-rise apartment buildings that dominated the street when he passed a narrow space between two street-facing buildings and heard a stifled sob. Pausing, he waited for his eyes to adapt to the darkness within. The boy huddled inside the snow that had collected there couldn’t have been more than thirteen.
It’s safe, he telepathed, instinct whispering the juvenile was Psy.
The boy’s head jerked up, fear on every inch of his face.
Vasic crouched down to make himself appear less of a threat. “You’re not in trouble.”
“I cried,” the boy whispered, knuckling away the tears that ran over his wide-cheeked face, his uptilted eyes swollen and red.
“Silence has fallen,” Vasic said, and because he knew many people didn’t yet believe the fall was real, added, “It was a traumatic and unusual situation. No one will remember your reaction in light of the other events that took place here today.” The Net was in too much chaos to notice the fractured Silence of a child. “What’s your name?”
Wiping his face on the sleeve of his winter jacket, the boy said, “Eben.” Then it was as if he couldn’t stop speaking, his words tumbling over one another. “I was walking to catch the jet-train to school. We had a late start today because the teachers had a meeting, and I passed the trippers—”
“Trippers?”
“The elementary school children,” he said. “There’s a museum that backs onto this street at the cul-de-sac end, and the school transports usually stop here, and then the trippers use a public pathway to get to the museum. It’s faster than going all the way around, and one of the museum staff usually shovels away any snow in the morning.”
Vasic had allowed the boy to ramble to ease his nerves, but now nudged his recollection back on track, “Go on. You’d passed the children.”
“I was thinking of my science homework”—Eben swallowed—“and about a girl at school.” His brown eyes, the pupils dilated, met Vasic’s. “I was a few meters past the elementary school kids when they started screaming, and I turned to run back. I thought maybe there’d been an accident. I’ve had first aid training at school.”
“Breathe.” Vasic used the same tone he used on Arrow trainees who began to panic during simulations. “You did the right thing.”
“I couldn’t get to them.” The boy’s entire body shook, shivers wracking his gangly frame even as perspiration broke out over the pale brown of his skin. “There were people pouring out of the apartments on either side and coming at me with knives and other things.” He began to rock back and forth. “I didn’t want to, but I had to.”
Vasic realized Eben was holding something by his side. “Give it to me.”
Shaking, trembling, the teenager lifted a baseball bat wet with blood but couldn’t seem to pass it across. “I have baseball practice today.”
Vasic ’ported the bat away, so it wouldn’t be in Eben’s line of sight as the teen continued to speak.
“I didn’t want to, but they wouldn’t stop and I had to. The little kids were screaming and I couldn’t help. I tried. I tried so hard!”
“You did everything you could.” He considered how to handle the clearly traumatized child. “How far is your home?”
“Four buildings down.”
Vasic froze . . . and that was when he became aware he was experiencing a dull version of the abrasive sensation he felt near all empaths but Ivy. From a Psy who lived in the center of the zone of infection and should, therefore, have gone insane along with his neighbors. “Were your parents home?” Their current location didn’t matter, of course. Anyone resident on this street would’ve been anchored in the infected part of the PsyNet and would’ve gone insane the instant the infection reached critical mass. Considering the time of day, a large number would’ve been at work.
Eben looked at him blankly.
Standing up, Vasic walked to an ambulance and grabbed a thermal blanket. When he returned, he stepped into the space too narrow to be called an alley and wrapped the blanket around Eben before picking the child up in his arms, and at this moment, the boy was very much a child, despite his age. With no information on Eben’s parents or next of kin, Vasic made the decision to bring the boy directly to Ivy’s cabin.
Rabbit barked, scrabbling into the room from the porch. Ivy followed on his heels. One look at the boy in Vasic’s arms, and she didn’t ask questions, simply took control. Eben was tucked up in her bed with Rabbit sitting sentinel next to him within minutes. “I’ll take care of him,” she said when Vasic indicated he had to leave.
“I’m certain he’s an E, so he shouldn’t be violent”—the only reason Vasic was leaving the boy with her—“but be careful. I’ve alerted Judd and the conscious members of my unit to his presence.”
Ivy spread her hand over her heart. “He’s hurt inside,” she said, the boy’s anguish so deep and heartrending she’d sensed it even without lowering her empathic shields. “His family?” It was an instinctive question; she’d checked on her parents the instant after Vasic ’ported out, discovered the shock wave had been nowhere near as violent in their region. Everyone in the settlement was safe.
Vasic’s response to her question was brief. “Unknown.”
Releasing an unsteady breath, she shook her head. “There’s a good chance one or both of them are dead, isn’t there?”
“Yes.” No expression on his face, no hint of care, but he’d wrapped the distressed teenager in a blanket and brought him here instead of leaving him to the medics on-site. That told Ivy everything she needed to know about the man who had quietly wound chains of stunning winter frost around her heart.
“You be careful, too,” she said, and touched his arm.
Glancing down, he just barely brushed his fingertips over her own.
She curled her fingers into her palm when he was gone, holding on to the contact like a precious jewel.
? ? ?
ADEN sealed another part of the jagged tear in the fabric of the Net, conscious of the staggering depth of power that kept it closed so he could do what needed to be done. Kaleb Krychek’s strength was beyond all known measurements.
Repair complete, he telepathed and moved to the next section.
Vasic, Kaleb said without warning. Do you want to pull him out of Alaska? I can have a unit of my own men in the area within a half hour.
The question betrayed an understanding of Vasic’s psychological state that Aden had trouble believing came from the ruthless dual cardinal. Emotional intelligence had never been a weapon in Krychek’s arsenal . . . but the other man was no longer working alone. The question and its attendant insight, Aden thought, was far more apt to have come from Sahara Kyriakus.
No, he replied. Vasic won’t leave, given the scale of the situation. Aden couldn’t order Vasic to do so, as he could the rest of the squad. That wasn’t how their partnership worked.