Chapter Four

 

 

Morning sunlight streamed down into the glass conservatory that connected the three buildings comprising the campus of the Institute for Psionic Research. Kyn squinted to block out the too-bright light as he hurried toward the Institute’s admin wing. He was already late for his meeting with Cam, and he couldn’t fathom how the man could manage a meeting at this time of — he glanced at his watch — morning, apparently, though his body was convinced otherwise.

Three days back home at the Institute and three nights in his own bed should have been more than enough to get his body back on track. The nightmares had made sleep a challenge. No surprise there, not after spending a harrowing evening in Luka’s head and finding the young man’s thoughts and fears to be far too familiar for comfort.

He rubbed his eyes and hoped Cam had coffee going.

To Kyn’s relief, the scent of coffee was indeed the first thing he was aware of as he entered Cameron Asada’s office. Relief was followed closely by a jarring sense of disorientation. He ought to be used to the sharp contrast between expectation and reality by now. He wasn’t, though. Even after a year, it still hit him hard whenever he walked into the office that used to belong to his foster father.

For most of the ten years since Kyn had come to the Institute, this office had belonged to Angus McKinnon, patriarch of the McKinnon clan. Cam had replaced Angus as director of the Institute upon Angus’ retirement.

Cam had kept the same basic layout, with a desk and conference table at one end of the long room and a comfortable sitting area near the fireplace at the far end. That was about as far as the similarity went, though. Cam’s taste in decor, like his management style, ran to cleaner lines and a lot less clutter. The walls were bare except for a few carefully chosen pieces of art, and the plants and other personal touches were gone. It was a tidier and far more professional place, but it wasn’t the warm, welcoming, extension of the McKinnon family homestead that it had been when Angus had been in charge.

Like his office, Cam himself was tidy and professional. He wore his auburn hair stylishly short, and he dressed like an executive — a far cry from Angus, who had always reminded Kyn of a good-natured grandfather, what with his baggy corduroys, oversized cardigans, and worn slippers.

Cam glanced up from his slate as Kyn walked in. “How was Torron?”

Kyn didn’t bother to keep the scowl from his face. “Torron was its usual charming self. If I never have to visit that place again, I’ll count myself lucky.”

“The whole planet can’t be that bad.”

“Downside Riga was bad enough that I’d rather not risk the rest.” He headed for the coffee dispenser on the table behind Cam’s desk. “After a stroll through an industrial wasteland the locals affectionately refer to as The War Zone, I think I can safely pass on whatever other tourist attractions they might be offering up.”

Cam grinned and held up his mug for Kyn to fill. “Right, I’ll make a note of it in your file. I’ll try to find a nicer place to send you next time.”

“If you’re taking requests, someplace with a beach would be great. And palm trees. And those drinks with the little umbrellas in them.”

“You’d never get any work done.”

“You’re probably right. Far safer to send me someplace horrible. Keep me focused on finishing up so I can escape.”

“You sleeping all right?” Cam asked as Kyn dropped into the chair opposite the desk.

Kyn took a long swallow of coffee and closed his eyes in appreciation. The complex flavors unfurled slowly across his tongue, dark and bitter, with just a hint of vanilla. Cam stocked the most amazing coffee. It was almost worth having to drag himself out of bed for. “You know it always takes me a while to adjust to the time change.”

“You could go down to the infirmary. I’m sure Eleni can find something to help you sleep.”

“Spare me. I ran into her last night, and she’s already given me the we’ve-got-drugs-for-that pitch.”

Cam sighed. “So she said, though from the look of you, I guess it did about as much good as it usually does.”

Kyn chose not to rise to the comment. “Sorry my report was so short.”

Cam didn’t even blink at the abrupt change of subject. “The brevity of your report wasn’t nearly as surprising as its appearance in my in-box mere minutes after your ship docked.”

Kyn stared down into his coffee. “Wasn’t much else to do.” Three days on the fast courier had been more than enough time to write up the report, which had given him all the excuse he needed to stay locked in his cabin and out of Pat’s way. He glanced up at Cam. “I wasn’t expecting a fast courier home. I can understand Logan wanting to get us out there quickly and get moving on the investigation, but he could have spared the expense for the return trip. We had the kid on ice — he wasn’t going anywhere. What’s the story on that?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. I wasn’t in the loop on that one. And before you ask, I haven’t inquired and I wasn’t planning on it. Logan and I are not exactly on good terms.” Cam’s smile was tight and bitter, and the little flares of suppressed fury that flickered around him whenever Logan’s name came up in discussion were almost enough to make Kyn adjust his shielding pattern to screen them out.

“You still miss it,” Kyn said softly.

“Sometimes.” Cam had been a psi hunter until a couple of years ago. His decision to blow a four-year undercover op for the sake of rescuing an enslaved psion had stopped that career dead in its tracks. “But I wouldn’t trade it for Miko’s freedom. Or his life.”

“You did the right thing, Cam.”

Cam’s smile looked a little more genuine this time. “According to everyone except the people that really matter.”

“Logan and the Command Council are not the people who really matter. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Cam said with a sigh. “Whenever I start doubting myself, all I have to do is think about what Miko’s life would have been like if I’d left him there.” He gave Kyn a tired smile. “Speaking of being on good terms… how did you and Pat get along?”

“If I didn’t know Alek and Trevor had a family emergency to deal with, I might have suspected you of engineering that mission on purpose.”

Cam gave him a lopsided grin. “Not guilty. Not even a little bit. When Neil called to request your assistance, I had no idea he was planning to send you out with Pat.”

“So what’s the emergency?” Kyn asked. “I talked to Trevor last night, and he was pretty vague about it.” If anyone would know, it would be Cam, who had been one of Angus and Mairi’s first foster kids when he’d first come to the Institute as a teenager.

“It’s not a big secret,” Cam said. “We’re just not sure how much should be discussed over communication lines that might not be secure. Anja was discharged from Fleet for what they’re calling mental instability. She’s suffered some kind of psionic damage, but she won’t say a word about what happened.”

“Is she all right?” Anja had already been in the Federation Space Fleet when Kyn had come to live with the McKinnons, but she always spent her leave time at home, and he’d come to know Angus and Mairi’s oldest daughter well in the years since.

Cam shrugged. “She’s in enough pain that she’s still taking Anarin. Our mind-healers have made some progress with her, but none of them have ever seen psionic damage on this scale before. Here’s the part that bothers me, though — she passed our psych profile with flying colors.”

“And they still discharged her?”

“They did, and I can’t imagine the military standards being any higher than ours.”

“They’re not,” Kyn said with a frown. “In fact, our standards are higher. She won’t talk about it at all? Not even the psionic damage?”

“Apparently it’s classified, and that’s all anyone can get out of her.”

Kyn let out a low whistle. “Classified? Hell, that could mean anything. What about Fleet Command here on Aurora?”

“Angus had it out with them when Anja first showed up. They’re not talking, either, and you know what Angus in Vengeful Father mode is like.”

“A force of nature,” Kyn said, and Cam smiled and nodded agreement. There might be fourteen years separating himself and Cam, but they shared a foster father who was just as protective of his foster kids as he was of his biological ones.

“Force of nature he may be,” Cam said, “but classified is still classified.”

“I bet Miko could find out.”

“Possibly, but hacking into secured military files isn’t something I want Miko to risk. I don’t have the kind of influence with FedSec that it would take to protect him if he got caught, and knowing the details isn’t going to change anything. Anja’s still going to have to deal with whatever’s happened and find herself a new career.”

“I should head over there,” Kyn said quietly. “See if I can do anything. I was in Fleet… maybe she’ll talk to me.”

“You’re welcome to try, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to hold off for a few days, at least. You’ll understand when I tell you why.”

“Oh?”

“Luka Andreyev is coming here.”

“Ah. I thought he might be.”

Cam leaned back in his chair. “What was your impression of him?”

“You mean the one formed in the entire twenty minutes I saw him in the hospital? We brought him here in cold-sleep, and Logan had medics waiting to take charge of the cryo-tube the moment we docked.”

“I know that, but what about the interview and processing procedures at FedSec Riga?”

“Pat was in charge of that.” Kyn maintained a carefully neutral tone. “I wasn’t invited.” He probably could have pushed for it, but the tension radiating from Pat that day had been warning enough to keep his distance.

Cam frowned. “Well, what impression did you manage to form during the time you did see him?”

“That looks can be deceiving.”

“How so?”

“He’s small and vulnerable looking, and from what I picked up while we were tracking him, I’m guessing there’s a history of abuse. He’s a fighter, though. When Pat and I first found him, he was in a state of shock, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure he was going to find his way out of it. I was tracking him when he cut loose with a blast that killed two people. When it was over, it felt like something snapped inside him. I figured it was even odds on whether we’d be bringing home a psych case or a new student. But when we picked him up at the hospital the next morning, he’d pulled himself together and he was perfectly lucid. Scared shitless, yeah, but the kid was asking intelligent questions and looking for the hidden catch.”

“I don’t have to tell you how dangerous he is. Do you think we can trust him?”

Kyn shook his head. “That’s a complicated question, and I haven’t seen his psych profile yet. My gut feeling is that I like the kid and I want to see him get out of this.” He raised his eyes and met Cam’s gaze head-on. “Ask me again after I’ve been working with him for a couple of weeks.”

Cam’s eyebrows shot up and Kyn sensed his surprise and his guilt, tempered with a measure of relief.

“Well, who else are you going to get?” Kyn asked. “I thought about it all the way home, and I figured I’d be the one training him. I’m the only logical choice. I’m the strongest psion here and I can do the same thing he can. Hopefully that means I can teach him how to control it. You can’t ask anyone else — he’s too damn strong. I caught the edge of something not even aimed at me and it brought me to my knees.”

“I’ve been wondering all morning how to ask you,” Cam said slowly, “and I had every point you just made ready to throw at you when you refused.”

Kyn stared down at his hands. “I might have, if I hadn’t been in his head that night. The kid needs help, and I’ve been there, right where he is. Maybe…” He swallowed hard. “Maybe I can help him.”

Cam was silent, and when Kyn looked up, he found the older man watching him intently. There was a pleased air about him, though Kyn wasn’t sure what that meant until Cam said quietly, “And perhaps help yourself in the process, hmm?”

Kyn scowled. “Don’t start. I’ve had my psych evaluation for this year, thanks.”

“Just thinking aloud.”

“Yeah, well, don’t. I’ll train him, but don’t be making it all about fixing me. I’m fine.”

Cam shot him a dubious look, but said only, “Good, because he’ll be here after lunch. I can ask Housekeeping to get an apartment ready for him, but your report indicated that he has phenomenal range. If you think he’ll be better off in isolation until he learns the shielding patterns, the island cabin is free.”

Kyn thought about how much mental noise Luka had been pulling in, even in the relative isolation of the War Zone. “As strong as he is, his range is a concern. The island cabin is probably the best place for him, at least until I’m satisfied that he’s shielding. He’s going to need some time to get things sorted in his own head. That might be easier for him if he doesn’t have to deal with everyone at the Institute right away. He needs counseling, too. If Processing hasn’t recommended it, I will.”

“They did, and after reading over your report, I’m inclined to agree. I’ll speak to Jaana. She’ll be doing a psionic exam when he gets here, and Eleni will want to do another physical — you know my sister, she doesn’t trust anything Processing says. Pat will be here with him in an hour or so. Once Eleni and Jaana clear him, you can head on out to the island.”

“So I’m packing up again,” Kyn said with a sigh.

“Looks like. Hopefully it won’t be for long. If he adjusts well and he’s as smart as you think he is, you could be back here within the week.”

“Then let’s hope he’s stupid. I could do with a break.” He gave Cam a sly grin. “And you said you wouldn’t send me anyplace with a beach.”

 

* * *

 

Pat had always thought that Eleni Asada, the doctor in charge of Medical Services at the Institute, looked like a female version of her brother, Cameron. She was shorter than Cameron, but her ponytail was the same shade of auburn and her eyes the same warm brown. She had the same crease between her eyebrows when she frowned, too. She turned that frown on Pat as he made his way into the Institute’s infirmary more than half-supporting Luka.

“Oh, for the love of… How the hell much did they give him?” Eleni demanded as she moved to Luka’s other side to help him down the hall.

“Processing told me two hundred milligrams,” Pat said, glad that he wasn’t the one responsible for Luka’s heavily drugged condition. From the look on Eleni’s face, somebody out at Processing was in for an earful before the day was over. “He slept all the way out here.”

“I’ll bet he did, poor kid. Morons. It’s his psi they need to shut down, not his entire body. Little scrap like him, fifty milligrams would be more than enough.”

In the exam room, Pat helped Luka get up on the table and then helped him lie back. “That’s what we were giving him in Riga, before we shipped out, and that’s what I recommended in my report, but what do I know? I’m just the agent who brought him in. I could ask Cameron to file a complaint, but it’ll probably do about as much good as it did last time.”

“As long as Drake Logan’s in charge of the Department, Cam won’t get anywhere. Logan’s had it in for him ever since he rescued Miko.” Eleni was fierce and unwavering in her support of her brother.

“Yeah, it’s too bad Logan has to be so difficult about it.” The whole affair had left a bad taste in Pat’s mouth and a general feeling of unease among the psi hunters. Logan may not have agreed with Cameron’s decision, but most of the field agents were of the opinion that he should have supported Cameron anyway, not thrown him to the wolves. Logan’s recent promotion to Director of the Department of Psionic Operations had come as a big relief to many of them.

“Did they send his medical records over?” Eleni asked as she peered into Luka’s eyes.

“Yeah, the Institute’s been copied on everything — should already be in the system. I’m afraid the medical records aren’t very illuminating. Standard vaccination series is about it, if I remember right.”

“Great. I hope you’re not in a hurry. I’ll need to run a full bio-scan, and Jaana wants to do a psionic evaluation after I’m finished with him.”

“No, take your time. I still need to meet with Kyn to go over the reports from Processing.”

“You can use the conference room down the hall, if you like. I’ll want to talk to both of you when I’m finished.”

Pat headed out to the waiting room where he poured himself a cup of coffee and sent Kyn a quick message to let him know he was available. Kyn responded that he was in a meeting and wouldn’t be free for another hour.

Since there was nothing else to occupy it, Pat’s mind took the opportunity to do exactly what it had been doing every free moment since that night in Riga: replay the whole sorry scene, complete with scathing commentary.

He and Kyn hadn’t exchanged more than a few dozen terse words since the morning they’d interviewed Luka in the hospital. It had taken Pat most of the trip home to decide how he felt about that night in Riga. He’d eventually concluded that he was angry, though he still wasn’t sure if he was more angry with Kyn for taking advantage of him, or with himself for allowing it.

Either way, he had no one to blame but himself; he should have left Kyn alone. Nothing had changed in three years, and it was time he faced reality and stopped hoping. Kyn didn’t want him. He’d been telling himself that ever since they’d arrived home, thinking if he just repeated the thought enough times, eventually he’d believe it.

It hadn’t worked so far.

An hour later, the waiting room door opened and Pat glanced up to see Kyn ambling toward him. Kyn wore faded jeans and a tight black T-shirt. Pat tried not to look at the way the shirt hugged his body, tried not to think about what that body looked like under the clothing, or what it felt like under his hands, muscles straining against him…

Shit.

Kyn would know exactly where his mind was. Kyn always knew, damn him.

As if reading his emotions — which he probably was, the bastard — Kyn gave him a cool, appraising look. The corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk. Before Pat could scowl at him, the door opened again and Eleni walked in.

“Just the two I need to see,” she said.

“How’s Luka?” Pat asked, glad to have someone else to focus his attention on.

“He’ll be a lot better once all the drugs are out of his system. He’s with Jaana for the psionic evaluation. Based on what I found, she wants to do an initial counseling session as well. You can pick him up in Psych Services when she’s done. She said she’ll give you a call. She thought two hours should be enough, and she’ll want to brief you before you leave.”

“Does he need more Anarin?” Kyn asked. “He’s painfully receptive — I don’t want it to wear off before I can get him out of here.”

Eleni snorted. “No danger of that. Processing drugged the poor kid to the gills. He was barely conscious when Pat brought him in. Let’s take this to my office — I’ve got a few questions for both of you, and I want to go over my recommendations with you, Kyn.”

The three of them sat around Eleni’s conference table. “I know you two need to go over some things, so I’ll make this as brief as possible,” she said. “First off, is Luka a healer?”

“I doubt it,” Kyn said. “Based on what I was picking up from him when I tracked him, I’d say he’s at least an empath and probably a telepath. Those aren’t skills we usually see combined with a healing talent. Why?”

“The bio-scan showed a lot of old injuries,” Eleni said slowly. “All of them consistent with a history of abuse. The more recent injuries — those sustained over the last two years or so — were all healed by a healer. I just wondered if he might have done it himself.”

“You can tell if a healer worked on him?” Pat asked.

“A bio-scan can’t make the distinction, but I can,” Eleni said. “A fracture that healed naturally has a different… a different feel than one that was healed by someone like me.”

“Did you ask Luka about it?” Kyn asked.

“I did. He didn’t understand what I meant. When I asked who hurt him, he clammed up.”

“Best leave that can of worms for Jaana,” Kyn said. “Based on what I got from his thoughts the night we found him, a history of abuse wouldn’t surprise me at all.”

“Nor I. He had three cracked ribs, which I’ve taken care of for him. That’s not all that concerns me, though. He’s been cutting himself. None of the scars are much over six months old, but the most recent injury occurred — and was partially healed — right around the time you picked him up. He didn’t want to talk about that, either.”

“He’ll talk to Jaana,” Kyn said. “She’s got a way about her… I don’t know what it is. You swear to yourself that you’re not going to say a word, and the next thing you know, you’re pouring your heart out to her, sharing all your darkest secrets.”

Pat nodded agreement. Jaana had worked with him, too, when he’d first come to the Institute. He still cringed when he remembered how easy she’d been to talk to, how eager he’d been to spill all the secret feelings he’d sworn he’d never give voice to.

“He’ll be in good hands with Jaana,” Eleni said. “She’ll get his emotional issues sorted out. It’s up to us to work on the physical ones, and I’m going to need your help with that. He’s been under a lot of stress, he’s malnourished, and he’s underweight. If he gets sick, he doesn’t have a lot of reserves to fight with, so we need to build him up. He needs plenty of sleep, as stress-free an environment as we can provide, and lots of healthy food. I’d like to see him gain at least five kilos.”

“I can see to that,” Kyn said. “Cam and I discussed starting his training out at the island cabin. I can’t think of anyplace less stressful.”

Eleni consulted her slate. “Next issue, then — the bio-scan results from Riga Processing show some evidence of drug abuse. There were both riptide and phoenix metabolites in his blood.”

“Not surprising, given where we found him.” Kyn’s eyes flicked to Pat, who nodded his agreement.

“The phoenix is well out of his system now, no trace on the bio-scan I did today, but riptide hangs around for a while, and the metabolite concentrations are still high enough for concern. The initial readings were a lot higher than we see in recreational users, and the fact that there’s still a measurable concentration there now suggests that he’s probably been injecting it.”

“Idiot,” Pat muttered. “What the hell are these people thinking?”

Kyn shot him a dark look. “What else are they going to do? You think Anarin’s available on the streets?”

Pat shrugged. “I—”

“You think they even know to ask for it?” Kyn demanded, a hard edge to his voice. “Most of the people who come through here don’t even know what they are when we find them. Riptide’s the only thing that even comes close to giving them relief. If they figure out that it helps, of course they’re going to use it.” He turned back to Eleni. “Is he addicted?”

She was silent for long moment, glancing between the two of them with a slight frown creasing her brow. “Given the metabolite levels, it’s a possibility,” she said finally. “Judging from his current condition, I don’t think so. If he was addicted, I’d think he would be showing signs of withdrawal by now, but you should watch him over the next few days — headache, tremors, muscle cramps — you know the drill.”

Kyn nodded. “Seen it before. Too damn many times.”

“Remember that if you decide to put him back on Anarin, you’ll need to bring him in for a bio-scan every week. The stuff’s wicked on the kidneys.”

“I remember. Anything else?”

She handed Kyn a packet of med-patches. “If he has trouble sleeping, try these first, and if they don’t help, I can give him something stronger. That about covers my concerns, but don’t hesitate to call me if anything crops up.”

“Good enough.” Kyn turned slowly to face Pat, tension in every line of his body. “I assume you’ve got some information for me?”

“I’m supposed to brief you on Processing’s report. They told me they’d copied the Institute on it, and it should all be in the system, so if you’d rather not…”

Kyn looked away and Pat figured he was about to be blown off again, but Kyn surprised him by saying, “I’d rather get your spin on it than read another damn report. You want to grab a conference room or head over to the dining room and get coffee?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Pat said.

 

* * *

 

They crossed the sunlit atrium in silence. Kyn didn’t dare look at Pat, who walked stiffly beside him, not speaking. Still fuming over their last night in Riga, most likely. Kyn had adjusted his shield to shut Pat out the moment he’d walked into the infirmary and sensed the chaos of conflicting emotions surrounding the man, so he couldn’t say for certain.

Not that he blamed Pat for being angry. He knew he ought to offer up an apology, but he wasn’t sure where that might lead. In the long run, it might be easier on both of them to just let Pat stay mad.

They got coffee — which wasn’t anywhere near as good as Cam’s private stock — and found a quiet corner booth. When Pat finally spoke to him, his tone was cool, clipped, and all business. “You want to start with the police record or the transcripts?”

“Police record first,” Kyn said, staring down at the table so he didn’t have to meet Pat’s eyes. “Just give me the highlights. After spending an evening in his head, I’ve got a pretty good idea of what we’re dealing with.”

Pat tapped his slate. “His juvenile record is pretty much what you’d expect — breaking and entering, theft, possession of stolen goods, and possession of various street drugs. Once he hit sixteen, there’s nothing.”

“I’m sure they got the whole story out of him when they questioned him under Veritane.” Kyn couldn’t keep the chill out of his voice. He hated Federation law when it came to the treatment of psions. Under the influence of Veritane, a truth drug, Luka would have been questioned relentlessly until he had no secrets left. The worst part, to Kyn’s mind, was that the drug would leave Luka with no memory of the questioning itself; he’d have no idea what information he’d given up.

“Standard procedure,” Pat said. “The transcripts of the interviews are in the report.”

“Can you summarize them for me?”

There was a pause and then Pat said quietly, “You sure you wouldn’t rather—”

“Get on with it, Pat. I’m not made of glass. Couldn’t do this job if I was.”

“Right.” Pat drew in a deep breath. “Just the highlights, then. His mother was a riptide addict. When she tried to whore him out to support her addiction, he took off. He made it for a while on his own through a combination of petty theft and prostitution. Then he got picked up by a gang called the Vipers. Swung a deal with the leader, Rufio — one of the victims we found — trading sex for protection.” Pat stopped again, and when Kyn glanced up at him, he was frowning. “Are you sure…?”

“Go on.”

Pat shot him a dubious look. “About a year ago, a rival gang caught him. They raped him and beat him nearly to death. The Vipers got him out, and that was about the time he started losing his mind: hearing voices, sensing emotions… classic psionic awakening symptoms.”

“Trauma,” Kyn said softly.

“What?”

“Physical or emotional trauma can awaken latent psi. When we see psi abilities appearing past puberty, it usually coincides with some kind of traumatic event. Beaten and raped would certainly qualify.”

Pat wouldn’t meet his eyes. He looked down at the slate screen instead. “Not too long after that, he killed a member of his own gang without even touching him. What did he call it…?” Pat paused for a moment, eyes scanning the slate. “Ah, here it is: Black lightning, coiled deep inside him, hot and slippery and always ready to strike.”

Kyn’s breath caught in his throat. Until they’d found Luka, he’d never met anyone else who could use psi as a weapon, and hearing it described exactly the way he saw it hit him hard. “He said… he said what?”

“Black lightning. Kyn, are you all right?”

The fact that Luka’s description matched his own experience should have eased his doubts regarding his ability to train Luka. All it did was bring the memories that crouched on the fringes of his awareness a little closer.

Pat slowly reached across the table to cover Kyn’s hand with his own. “Is there anybody else who can train him?”

The bark of bitter laughter that escaped sounded almost hysterical. Kyn snapped his mouth shut. Pat’s hand squeezed his, warm and comforting. He wanted that comfort, wanted it more than anything.

“Kyn?”

“No,” he said from between clenched teeth. “There isn’t anybody else.” He fixed Pat with a determined stare and with an effort that was almost painful, pulled his hand away. “Finish your report.”

“Maybe we should—”

“Finish it, Cottrell.”

Pat pressed his lips together in a thin line. He looked down at the slate again and said in a low voice, “Once Rufio figured out what Luka could do, he started using him to take out his enemies. Luka said he wasn’t given a choice. They’d hurt him if he didn’t do what they wanted.”

Kyn understood exactly why Pat was reluctant to share the details. Replace the downside gang with a bunch of thugs in suits, and Pat could have been telling Kyn’s own story.

“The psych doc over at Processing said Luka doesn’t fit the killer profile,” Pat continued, “and that once you get the psi under control, he’ll be more of a danger to himself than anyone else. The full transcript of the interviews is in the report, along with video logs.”

“Don’t need ‘em.” Kyn squeezed his eyes shut, pushed the ghosts away. They went, but not far.

They’d be back. Tonight, when he turned out the light.

Or maybe sooner; maybe the next time he looked into Luka’s eyes and saw himself staring back. “I’ve heard enough.” He took a long swallow of coffee and hoped Pat didn’t notice that his hands were shaking.

Pat shook his head, giving Kyn a stricken look. “I didn’t know,” he said in a harsh whisper. “When he asked who was going to be fucking him… I thought he was trying to piss us off. I didn’t think he meant it literally.” He stared down at the table. “I’m sorry I was such an ass. I should have included you in the Processing procedures in Riga. It didn’t occur to me then that you’d be the only choice for training him.”

Kyn sighed and thought about the way Pat’s hand had covered his own. How right it had felt. How much he’d wanted it there. Easier to keep his mouth shut, maybe, but the thought that he was responsible for the bone-deep sadness that he sensed was more than he could bear. Something had to change. “You were angry.”

Pat raised his head to look at him.

“And you had every right to be.” Kyn met that gaze and held it. “Finding Luka like that… took me back ten years. All I wanted was to forget. You were right there, and I knew you wouldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you like that. I used you and I hurt you.”

“I let you,” Pat murmured.

“Doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have had to. I’m sorry.”

“What is it you’re sorry for?” Pat’s voice was a dry whisper, his body still and taut, steeled for the killing blow.

Kyn could deliver that blow, right here, right now, drive Pat away for good. It would probably be better for both of them if he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “All of it,” he said in a low voice. “That night three years ago… I wanted it, too. I… felt something for you, but… I thought you deserved better. I wanted you to go find someone who wasn’t broken. Someone who could love you the way you need. I thought that if I walked out on you, you’d get the message and move on.”

He heard Pat’s sharp intake of breath, followed by a very soft, “And now? Do you still feel something?”

Kyn risked a glance up and saw the cautious hope simmering in Pat’s eyes. When he thinned his shield, he could feel that hope flaring through Pat like a ray of light in the middle of a storm. He didn’t have the heart to crush it. “I’ve… tried not to,” he said softly. “It hasn’t worked awfully well. I can’t… I miss you, Pat.”

“I miss you, too. Can we… can we just be friends? Like we were?”

That was a slippery slope, and knowing the depth of the feelings Pat still had for him, Kyn wasn’t convinced that he would bring Pat anything more than heartache. “I don’t know. Can we?”

“I want you in my life, Kyn. If friendship is all it can be, then that’s enough for me.”

Guilt flared through him, and Kyn closed his eyes, unable to face that naked honesty. “I want you in my life, too. I just… I don’t know what that means right now.”

“Let’s find out what it means, then. One day at a time.”

When Kyn opened his eyes, Pat was leaning forward a little, body tensed as if he was braced to take a gut punch. Not surprising, since Kyn had given him no reason to expect anything but rejection.

Could they be friends again? He wasn’t sure, but the truth was that avoiding Pat for three years hadn’t done anything but make him feel like a part of himself was missing.

“All right,” he said. “Friends.” He just hoped he wasn’t making an even bigger mistake than he had that night in Riga.