Nalini Singh: Blaze of Memory

And he did. Taking a seat on the bottom of the bed, one foot on the sheets, the other flat on the floor, he watched her as twilight turned to midnight, then slowly to the darkest hour of night, when everything seemed to go silent. Sometime after three a.m., he was distracted by a kind of ache in his head. . . no, that wasn’t right, it didn’t hurt—it was more like a shift inside his skull, not uncomfortable, just different. Frowning, he checked his psychic shields. Holding.

Keeping his eye on Katya on the physical plane, he stepped out into the ShadowNet to check for outside interference—he’d allow nothing and no one to cause her any more pain. He didn’t see it at first. But the longer he stared at the flicker of Katya’s mind, the more he became convinced that he wasn’t imagining it. Her flame was getting stronger.

Heart in his throat, he dropped back down to the physical plane and tried to find any indication that he wasn’t simply creating phantom images, wasn’t simply going mad with grief. But she still slept as peaceful and motionless as always, two little hands on her body. On her skin . Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Both Keenan and Noor had moved their hands . . . to either side of Katya’s head.

Half certain he was losing his sanity, Dev forced himself to remain on the physical plane for an entire two hours. Only then did he allow himself to open his psychic eye. “Dear God.” It was a whisper full of wonder.

Terrified any disturbance would destroy the miracle, he stayed in place for the next four hours, making sure no one came into the bedroom. When Noor and Keenan finally woke, within seconds of each other, he looked into their groggy little faces and barely kept himself from crushing them close. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Noor mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. “Want Tally.”

Keenan reached over to pat her arm, moving as if his limbs were too heavy to lift. “Tally’s at home, but I’m here.”

A little smile. Yawning, Noor got up and crawled around the bed to Dev’s side, exhaustion in every line of her body. “Pancakes?” she said hopefully as he cuddled her as hard as he dared.

“Pancakes,” he whispered in a voice that threatened to shake, raising his hand to muss Keenan’s hair when the boy came over to lean against his knee.

While his grandparents and Sascha distracted the kids with pancakes, Connor and Ashaya began to check Katya over using the equipment Connor had in his mobile kit. Dev could tell both doctor and M-Psy were leery of his hope, that they were doing it only to humor him, but he didn’t give a damn. And when Ashaya’s mouth dropped open and Connor began to swear under his breath, he didn’t allow himself to collapse in relief.

That would have to wait until she woke.

“Her brain,” Connor finally said, “is healed, according to this scanner.” He stared at the equipment, thumping it with his palm as if to recalibrate it. “I need better gear.”

“Get it,” Ashaya muttered, staring at Katya. “I don’t have the ability to see the damage, but all her responses are within the normal range.”

Connor got out a cell phone. “Glen,” he said a moment later, “I need you to fly out with one of the . . .”

Dev tuned out the rest of the conversation, knowing what he knew. “I can see her on the ShadowNet,” he told Ashaya. “Her flame is bright enough to burn.” Her mind, it was different; her psychic self cut with crystal clarity. She was already drawing curious looks from the Forgotten in the ShadowNet, none of whom had ever glimpsed the razor-sharp psychic presence of a Psy born in silence.

“You don’t need the scans,” Ashaya said with a nod. “But the rest of us do. Because if she’s healed . . .”

He spread out his senses, found two innocent and deeply vulnerable minds in the kitchen. “Yes.”

Three hours later, there was no question about it—not only was Katya healed, but she was likely to wake from her unconscious state at any time. Forcing himself to go out onto the porch with the others so they could discuss what had happened, he found himself watching protectively as Noor and Keenan—bundled up like little penguins in jackets, boots, mittens, scarves, and hats—tried to climb a tree at least ten times their combined size. Both had just woken from a two hour nap and weren’t moving with anywhere near their usual level of energy.

“Which one of them did it?” Dev asked, still shell-shocked.

Every single person on the porch shook his or her head. Ashaya was the first to speak. “When I asked Keenan if he had helped Katya, he told me ‘they’ fixed her.”

“They?” Sascha leaned forward, watching the kids as they chased each other in circles.

“Yes.”

Noor ran to the porch at that moment, scrambling into Dorian’s arms. “Ha-ha!” She teased from her high perch. “You can’t get me.”

Keenan grinned and jumped up to grab her booted foot. “Can too.”

“Uncle Dorian!” It was a laughing scream.

Lucas grabbed Keenan and turned him upside down, to the boy’s delight. “So,” the alpha said easily, “you two helped Katya.”

“Yeah,” Keenan said, walking on his mittened hands across the porch as Lucas held him up. “Noor can’t go in by herself.”

Dev held his breath, waiting to see if the children would add anything else.

“Yeah, I had to do a lot of weaving,” Noor said. “Kee is my truck.”

Both of them found that hilarious. Keenan was still giggling when Lucas turned him right side up again. “Does it make you tired?” Lucas asked.

“Yeah.” Noor nodded. “My head is full now.”

“Keenan, how about you?”

But it was Noor who answered. “Kee’s head is quiet.”

Seeing something dart across the snow, Keenan jumped across the porch in excitement. “Come on, Noor!”

“Okay, okay.” Kissing Dorian on the cheek, the little girl asked to be put down and then she was off after Keenan as he ran back toward their climbing tree.

“There were rumors,” Nani murmured, “that in the past some Psy were born with gifts that only worked in tandem with another.”

“Noor didn’t show any active abilities when we tested her at Shine,” Dev said, knowing he owed a debt to those two babes that could never, ever be repaid. “But she does carry a high percentage of Psy genes.”

“My son,” Ashaya murmured, “is a telepath. He’s midrange, but in that range, he’s crystal clear. A truck . . . a conduit.”

Sascha nodded. “For whatever it is that Noor does, her ‘weaving.’ ”

Dorian blinked. “Huh. She told the Arrow who helped William that they were the same. But I’m pretty sure even he can’t do this. She’s—they’re both—unique.”

“Yes,” Ashaya agreed. “I’ve never heard of an M-Psy—of anyone —who can heal that kind of an injury.”

“It doesn’t matter whether or not we can define her gift—we have to protect her, protect them both,” Dev said, meeting Lucas’s eyes. “Tell Talin and Clay that they have every Shine resource at their disposal. If others find out what she and Keenan can do . . .”

“We’ll all protect them,” Lucas said, and it was a vow. “No one will take advantage of those two.”

“Yes.” Sascha’s voice held awe. “Keenan’s clearly exhausted, and what Noor said—about her head being full—I think she’s flamed out, her gift has gone numb from overuse. Ashaya, can you tell about Keenan?”

Ashaya nodded after a moment’s pause. “He’s flamed out, too.” Worry laced her tone. “It might take days for them to recover.”

“But they will recover,” Sascha reassured her. “They’ve just overstretched their psychic muscles.”

“We’ll have to be careful who and what we expose them to,” Lucas said. “Keenan adores her so much, he’ll follow her lead, and she won’t be able to help trying to heal the injured even if it means hurting herself.” A glance at his mate.