Ashaya’s face returned to the screen, her eyes filled with the remnants of laughter. “We’ll have to be quick—Keenan’s very good, but he’s still a four-year-old alone with cookie dough.”

Knowing he was about to wipe that shimmering joy from her eyes, he didn’t try to soften the blow, didn’t try to sugar-coat the implications. “I need you to see if you can identify someone.” Then he told her about the woman he’d found dumped outside his apartment door.

Ashaya’s face went pale under that dusky skin. “Do you think—”

“It could be nothing,” he interrupted. “But it’s a possibility I have to check out.”

“Of course.” Her throat moved as she swallowed. “If the Council knows about the unique abilities being manifested in the children of the Forgotten, there’s a chance they’ll begin to try to experiment on those children once again.” A pause. “I think Ming would kill them if he couldn’t use them.”

Dev’s jaw tightened. That was exactly what worried him—the Council would never countenance the idea of another group with access to psychic powers—much less the increasingly strong ones being manifested in some of his people. “Is this line secure?”

“Yes.”

He sent through a photograph. “She may not look like she used to.”

Nodding, Ashaya took a deep breath and opened the attachment. He knew the instant she recognized the woman in the photo. Crushing relief, anger, and pain—it all swept over her face in a violent wave. “Dear God.” Her fingers covered her mouth. “Ekaterina. It’s Ekaterina.”

CHAPTER 3

The Psy Council met in their usual location—a mental vault deep within the PsyNet, the psychic network that connected every Psy on the planet but for the renegades. An endless vista of black, each Psy mind represented by a single white star, the Net had a stark kind of beauty. But of course, those within the Net no longer understood beauty.