“They are.” The violent pro-Silence group had been hunted out of existence. “But their ideas are still floating around being absorbed by fanatical, ugly minds. No proof, but the Consortium’s probably stirring that rancid stew.” What better way to destabilize the world than to slyly encourage hatred among the races?
It was, after all, a tactic they’d already attempted on a bigger scale.
“It had to happen,” Clay said unexpectedly. “With the Es suddenly becoming so powerful, there’s got to be a hell of a lot of resentment simmering in the minds of folks that previously considered themselves top dogs. Suddenly, all these ‘inferior’ Psy are being held up as heroes.”
Lucas nodded. His own gifted mate had once called herself flawed, been taught to see herself that way. “Aden’s people only caught fragments, but there was definite mention of the fact that Naya’s mother is an E—and discussion of how to get to them both.” Fists clenching, he forced himself to think. “I’m going to review every security protocol around Naya and Sascha.”
He knew he’d have Sascha’s full support; his mate might chafe at some of the security precautions she had to take as a result of being one half of DarkRiver’s alpha pair, but she was completely onboard with any safety measures when it came to their cub. If anything, Sascha was even more protective than Lucas—he often had to remind her that Naya was a leopard changeling, needed more freedom than a human or Psy child of the same age. Cats didn’t like being caged. Not even little cats with fragile bones and baby-soft hands.
Remember that, he ordered himself. Don’t allow the enemy to force you into a position where you’re the cause of hurt to your own child.
• • •
SASCHA kept a firm hold on her worry after Lucas’s message alerting her to dangerous talk in the PsyNet about Naya. It was difficult when she knew exactly the kinds of treacherous minds that hid in the dark corners of the Net and how violently some of those minds despised the primal nature of the changeling race.
To them, Sascha and Lucas’s precious child would be an abomination.
Fury churned in her gut.
“Mama!”
Wrenching her anger under control with a harsh effort of will, Sascha tightened her grip on Naya’s hands where her baby walked in front of her. Her and Lucas’s green-eyed little girl had good balance for her age and a stubborn determination to walk, but she was still little and the forest floor wasn’t exactly even, so Sascha was helping keep her upright.
Not that Naya hadn’t made a break for it once already.
For the moment, however, her tiny fingers held on firmly to Sascha’s hands, her skin soft and the color a golden honey brown. A meld of Sascha’s dark honey and Lucas’s muted gold. Anglo-Indian, Japanese, Irish, Italian, more, Naya had a beautifully complicated genetic inheritance.
“Naya!” she responded in the same delighted tone, causing her daughter to laugh that big laugh of hers.
Having driven from the aerie, she, Naya, Julian, and Roman were walking the final meters to a border section of DarkRiver’s Yosemite territory; the land had been designated a play area for the regular gatherings DarkRiver cubs had begun to have with Arrow children. The sessions had initially been meant to teach the Arrow children how to play when, prior to Aden taking control of the squad, they’d had their innocence suffocated by training that sought to turn them into pitiless assassins and nothing more.
It had very quickly morphed into a fascinating exchange: The changeling and human children taught Arrow young to laugh and to have fun, while the baby Arrows made their wilder playmates stop and think more often than they otherwise might have done. But the best things were the friendships that had begun to form, with the children talking to one another via the comm between sessions.
The pack had put up climbing frames as well as swings in the area, though there was also an open field for unstructured play. Not many nonpack humans lived out this way, but the rare ones who did knew they were welcome to use the equipment and to join in the playgroup.
“Boys.”
Julian and Roman froze where they were scampering up ahead, two little statues in jeans and T-shirts. Sascha’s lips twitched. It had taken her time to learn that tone, but it was very effective at getting her favorite dose of double trouble to pay attention.
Tamsyn’s boys had been the first changeling children Sascha ever met, and she adored them to pieces, was guilty of spoiling them—but she’d also learned to discipline them as they grew. Not because they were naughty in a bad way, but because both were strong personalities and needed to understand that right now, Sascha was the boss when they were with her.
The rules of pack hierarchy existed for a reason, and for DarkRiver cubs, it existed to give them a firm foundation on which to stand. No confusion, no fear. Just a safe place where they could flex their own strength and grow into their personalities.
Oddly, the tone also seemed to work on the boys’ pet cat, Ferocious, who—thanks to Roman and Julian’s fierce defense of their pet—tended to think of herself as a great big leopard, too. Today, however, Ferocious was at home, so Sascha had to handle only the twins, both of whom were now in their first year of school.
Reaching the two adorable “statues,” Naya still holding on to her hands, Sascha said, “You can move now, but stay close.” These play sessions would only work long-term if everyone felt safe.
Arrows were Arrows because they’d been born with lethal psychic abilities.