Last Guard by Nalini Singh

Chapter 30

Payal Rao: Anchor—Delhi. Actual zone is the largest in India, stretching as far as Budaun in Uttar Pradesh on her eastern border. I’m still working on figuring out her reach in the other directions, but it’s apt to be of similar significance. If she falls, it will cause a chain reaction across Asia.

—Inventory of anchors created by Canto Mercant (2082)

AS AN EMERGENCYmeasure, Payal took Chandika’s place, becoming the sun with her stars around her. The hub and the subs. She could only maintain the position for a short burst of time before her own region began to collapse, but this area was in a dire situation.

Chandika’s death must’ve been sudden, else she’d have contacted her neighboring hubs to set up a succession plan—though what they might have been able to do, Payal couldn’t imagine, not when their zones were already edge to edge.

She wasn’t the only neighboring hub who’d responded. Prabhyx, Shanta, and Virat—all of whom Payal knew because she made it her business to know her region—had also just appeared inside Chandika’s zone. This close, they could talk to each other as most Psy did on the PsyNet. “We need to cover this zone,” she said. “There is no replacement.”

Prabhyx had always been high-strung. Now his mind flared with panic. “That’s impossible! We’re all stretched to the max.”

Virat was more pragmatic. “We can do ten-minute sessions,” he said, “but it’ll be a twenty-four-hour rotation and it’ll wear us out, even if we pull in anchors from farther out.”

Shanta, older and more experienced, said, “Let me check the zones. There may be room for expansion from each of us. Stressful, yes, but not as bad as a rotation.”

Payal held Chandika’s zone while they waited. She’d sensed the horror of minds blinking out at a sickening rate when she first arrived, but the losses had stopped the instant she wrenched the Substrate back into shape. However, with many of Chandika’s sub-anchors having collapsed under the initial surge after her death, the strain on Payal’s mind was enormous.

Shanta returned. “Prabhyx, you have capacity in your southern quadrant. Can you see if you can reshape your zone to take a segment of the weight?”

High-strung or not, Prabhyx was an anchor and he reacted to try to save lives, save the Net. Payal felt a small amount of pressure exit her mind. “That’s good,” she said. “Shanta, who else has capacity?”

“Nobody” was the quiet answer. “You were already taking on a big chunk of Chandika’s zone and so was I. Virat’s got extra weight with Pallavi’s zone—she’s aging, too.”

All of them must’ve stretched out automatically, their brains reacting as designed. Canto, there is no cover.

Check the grid. See if there are any answers there. I’m searching to see if we can get cover from an A based in a more stable zone.

The grid was faded and crumbling. As with plants deprived of water, every part of the Net suffered when deprived of anchor energy.

Water. Energy. ENERGY.

A puzzle piece slotted into place in her mind, then another and another.

“I’ll build conduits,” she said to the others, as well as telepathically to Canto. “It’ll feed our energy into this zone.”

“That won’t last.” She could hear tears in Prabhyx’s voice. “It needs to be one of us.”

“I know.” She tempered her tone—there was no point in yelling at someone who simply couldn’t help the way they were; Prabhyx was a good anchor. That was all he had to be. She’d take care of the rest. “But it’ll give us time to try to find a solution. Canto’s currently searching for an area of the world with an extra anchor.” It’d be a hardship for that A to relocate, but such sacrifices were part of being an A.

When the Net bled, so did anchors.

Santano Enrique had once covered three zones for a heroic five minutes when twin anchors passed away within seconds of each other. He’d been a psychopath, but he’d also been an A.

“Okay, yes. Yes, that makes sense.” Prabhyx repeated that multiple times as he helped her build the conduits. One from each neighboring anchor, so that their combined energies fed the grid and made it stronger.

“It’s like a spiderweb,” Shanta said afterward, as the conduit network glowed blue and began to pump anchor energy into the region; the only things that didn’t alter in color were the intrusive brown fibers. “A web fed with our psychic blood.”

“It’s going to drain all of us.” Payal was far more concerned with the practical than the metaphysical. “Eat and drink double your usual amount. I think we can maintain this for up to a month at the absolute maximum—but only if you fuel yourselves.”

All three communicated their acceptance of the plan.

Virat said, “Thank you, Payal. When Canto reached out about this anchor union, I didn’t appreciate why he’d chosen you to represent us, but now I see. You can think even when the Net is falling around us.”

“Yes,” Shanta murmured. “But we know you can’t do magic. We’ll help you in any and every way we can. It hurts to watch the Net die.”

They separated on that simple, profound truth.

Already able to feel the energy drain, she opened her eyes on the physical plane to find herself still sitting across from Kaleb Krychek. His eyes were closed, and the dark gray of his shirt stuck to his body. He’d discarded his jacket at some point and loosened his tie.

“Kaleb?”

“Five more minutes.”

Her legs shaky, she was glad to have the opportunity to just sit there. She hadn’t flamed out, so she was able to teleport in two nutrient drinks. As she knew exactly where they were in her apartment, the small “fetch” was easy to pull off.

Payal, how are you? I can see the change in the Substrate.

That beautiful voice. Of a man who remembered her, who saw her. I’m fine. Kaleb’s still here.

Kaleb came back fully into his body at that moment. The transformation was subtle and intense at the same time. His muscles held a touch more tension, his obsidian gaze acute, the sheer power of him focused on her.

Many people were afraid of Kaleb Krychek. A logical response. Payal, though, felt no fear—she was an A. He would never touch her. But more than that, she saw something in Kaleb that felt familiar.

Spotting the drink, he picked it up and unscrewed the tamperproof seal. “The repair is fragile at best,” he said afterward. “We have an Arrow babysitting it, but it’s not going to hold.”

“That’s because there’s no anchor there.” Rising, she grabbed a jotter pad off her desk and sketched out the system she and the others had put in place. “Best-case scenario is that it’ll hold for a month, but we can’t guarantee anything beyond two weeks. Especially should another linked anchor fall.”

Krychek looked at her with eyes still devoid of stars. “What’s this conduit mean for you and the other hubs?”

“Exhaustion.” Payal wasn’t here to pull punches. She was here to be a battle tank. “A short stint won’t do permanent injury, but much longer and you’ll lose five anchors instead of one.”

Kaleb’s face stayed expressionless. She could see why he’d not only made the Psy Council at such a young age but survived it. Either he had a stone-cold heart or he’d learned to school his emotions in the same kind of deadly crucible in which she’d come of age.

Yet Kaleb had what changelings would call a mate. “May I ask a personal question?”

He looked directly at her face, as if trying to see through to her brain. “I can’t promise to answer it.”

Payal didn’t retreat. This was too important. “How do you do it?” She returned that direct stare. “Feel enough emotion to be bonded to another while remaining ice-cold in your daily interactions.”

A single blink was the only giveaway that she’d surprised him. For a long second, she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he said, “It’s Canto, isn’t it?” He crossed one ankle over the knee of his other leg, his hand lying loosely on the crossed leg. “I knew as soon as he asked me to protect you while you were out.”

Things shifted and twisted inside her, the screaming girl fierce with joy, a bright and defiant flame.

Even though she didn’t confirm his supposition, Kaleb continued. “I had a childhood where—let’s just say trust would’ve been a weakness that saw me destroyed. So I learned to build impenetrable shields.”

Startled that he’d shared such a personal thing, Payal leaned forward. “Why did you tell me that?”

Another intent look. “The same reason you asked the question of a man most people never dare to approach on personal topics.”

A sense of familiarity, of like knowing like.

“The shields aren’t the problem,” she admitted. “I can hold those forever if I truly wish to.”

“It’s a cold place to live, isn’t it? That cage of walls?”

“But it’s safe.”

“Do you want to die feeling safe?” His words were soft. “Or do you want to die feeling free?”

It was as if the two of them were in a bubble, cold and dark. “What if freedom equals destruction?”

“Might depend on the reason you asked your initial question.” Rising, he grabbed his jacket. “According to Ena Mercant, Canto is one of the rocks of the family. He could be your safe place to stand, as Sahara is mine.”

The idea of it was so breathtakingly seductive that it stole her breath. “Thank you,” she managed to get out. “You didn’t have to answer me, but you did.” It meant something.

“Sahara’s obviously a bad influence.” No change in his tone or expression, Krychek glanced at his timepiece. “We need a Coalition meeting,” he said. “Can you do it after this?”

“Give me a half hour.” Not only did she need to refuel, she had to deal with a couple of business issues to keep her father and brother at bay.

“I’ll send you the comm codes.” He nodded toward the door. “By the way, someone’s been shoving telekinetically at your door for the past ten minutes.”

She glanced toward the door, only then realizing he had to be holding it shut against any attempt to enter. “I appreciate the notice. I have it.”

Krychek left it to her, but before he teleported out, he looked her in the eye and said, “Some choices define us, Payal.”

She inclined her head, her heart in a fist, and when she looked up, he was gone.

“Payal!” Lalit’s voice yelling her name. “Stop playing games and open this damn door.”

She rubbed her forehead. She was tired and needed time to rest and refuel, not deal with her psychopathic brother. She also needed the tumor-control medication, but the pain wasn’t yet to the point where things were critical. What was Lalit even doing here?

A single glance at her organizer told her the answer: their father had been attempting to contact her. Too bad.

She teleported out, leaving Lalit to fall into an empty office.