beginning her work for Shine, had assured her that her acting out as a teenager and as a young adult had been an understandable reaction, something often exhibited by victims of childhood abuse. The woman had classified it as a kind of self-harm, said there was no need for Talin to feel shame. But even after eight years of celibacy, except forâ
No, she wouldnât think of those times. Her fists turned bloodless. It had been eight years since the final therapy session, eight years since she had begun to try to treat her body as something good, something worth holding precious, eight years â¦but Talin still wasnât sure she believed the counselor.
Maybe she was the slut Orrin had tried to make her. Maybe that defect was built into her genes. The clinic where sheâd been abandoned as a baby had been a free one, utilized almost exclusively by prostitutes after all. Orrin had called her the daughter of a whore. Like mother, like daughter.
âWhereâs your apartment?â
Snapping upright at that cold question, she realized they had reached the outskirts of San Francisco. Lips dry, mouth full of cotton wool, she gave him directions to the small high-rise where Shine had leased her an apartment. âThank you,â she said when he parked on the street out front.
âHere.â He threw her the key. A split second later, he had opened the door and was gone, a lethal shadow invisible against the rising fog. Eyes stinging, she shifted into the driverâs seat and drove the Jeep down into the underground parking area.
Clay had been disgusted by her.
A sob caught in her throat as she sat in the dimly lit garage. Even when Clay had first discovered her grim childhood secretâonly seconds before heâd killed Orrinâhe had never looked at her with blame in his eyes. Instead, he had written her letters from juvie, telling her that she was still his Tally, still the best thing in his life. Those letters had gotten her through more years than Clay would ever know.
But nowâ¦now he blamed her for what sheâd become. How could he not? Heâd spent four years in a cage so she wouldnât have to live in a nightmare and what had she done? Sheâd spit on his gift, cheapened it to tawdriness. No wonder he hated her.
That she had been close to insane during those lost, tormented years didnât sound like a particularly good excuse.
Giving in, she pressed her head against the steering wheel and cried.
CHAPTER 5
Ashaya Aleine was an M-Psy with a Gradient rating of 9.9. The latter made her very unusual. Most Psy that powerful tended to make the 0.1 leap into cardinal status. There was no measuring cardinals. Some were more powerful than others but all had the same eyesâwhite stars on black velvet.
Distinctive. Memorable.
Ashaya was neither. Her eyes were an unremarkable blue gray, her hair a plain black. It was curly but once pinned into a severe knot, it became forgettable. Her dark brown skin, too, was nothing surprising among the genetically mixed population of the Psy. But Psy werenât the only ones she had to consider. For her plan to succeed, she had to learn to become invisible among the humans and changelings, a far harder task.
The clear panel of her computer screen flashed an incoming call. She answered it to find herself facing a woman with almond-shaped eyes and ruler-straight black hair. âCouncilor Duncan. What can I do for you?â
Nikita Duncan put down what appeared to be an electronic pen. âIâd like a progress report. How far along are you?â Her face was a static wall, a testament to perfect Silence.
âBack at the start.â She remained as unmoving as the Councilor. âThe saboteursâ attack on the previous lab destroyed the majority of my research.â And her little twist in the programming of the prototype implants had taken care of those few that had been liberated from the lab without her
Louis Trimble
David Handler
Claire Kent
Kelly Martin
Jordan Young
Robert Stanek
Sage L. Morgan
Trent Evans
Lisa Jackson
Shelly Douglas