Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A9: I've experienced increased sensitivity the deeper I get into my pregnancy. I can still sleep in my bed, but I think that's only because I've had it for three years. I tried to use a new piece of mass-produced furniture yesterday and nearly had an aneurysm from the scream of voices inside my head. Am I going insane?

—Post on Psycho it wasn't the object's fault she'd put it together with such a lack of skill or finesse.

At least her cabin was usable. Soon as her mind had begun to function well enough to consider her options, she'd ordered this build—a build that was machine prefabricated. The contractors who'd put it together had done so using heavy-duty gloves, under secondary shielding provided by a Scott security team.

She'd then left the cabin "fallow" for a month.

So far, she'd only picked up the odd "ghost" in the materials, mostly faint echoes of a detail-oriented machine operator. It helped that she had a habit of wearing socks most of the time.

It wasn't, however, psychometric tripwires alone about which Auden had to worry.

Utilizing financial sleight of hand that she'd learned at her father's knee, she'd secretly purchased a small but high-spec surveillance detection device. She'd run the first scan upon her arrival, discovered two cameras and three listening devices, but would do another scan today to confirm she'd eliminated the bugs. After that, she'd check the bunker for any hidden threats—just in case.

Then she'd consider how to create a foolproof exit strategy for the child in her womb.

For now, she needed to put up her feet—and with the chair out of the question, it would have to be the futon laid directly on the floor. An impractical bed for a woman in her state; getting either down to it, or up from it was a major operation.

It was also the only option.

"I haven't slept for the past week," she'd told Charisma when the other woman balked at Auden's refusal to even consider a bed frame. "I've started to sense details from the workers who assembled my bed here at the house, and I've had that for years."

Charisma's pupils had expanded. "Your sensitivity is that intense?"

"Unfortunately."

The futon itself was borrowed from B2cc, a fellow psychometric who'd offered it to pregnant designation-mates.

B2cc: I've given birth and my imprint sensing is back to normal. This will carry my imprint, but I've heard that Ps-Psy leave weak imprints as a rule, so if anyone wants to test it, you're welcome.

Auden, sleep-deprived and desperate, had taken the invitation. And would report back that the woman who'd offered the futon had been right. She could sense the other Ps-Psy, but it was a fuzzy knowing at best. No hard edges. No intrusiveness.

Even though they'd never met, Auden trusted her fellow anonymous psychometrics in a way she trusted no one else. They wanted nothing from her except information—the same thing she wanted from them in return. The kindness shown by B2cc…it had been an unexpected and generous gift, and Auden intended to pay that kindness forward.

Because Ps-Psy were on their own.

No one had ever studied psychometrics. Likely because they were no threat to anyone. Despite the legends, there was no evidence that a psychometric had ever killed someone using their ability.

Even empaths could wound or kill people with their ability. It hurt the E to do so, but at least they had an offensive tool in their toolbox. Could be that was where the legends of "assassin psychometrics" had come from—because while the Council had left Ps-Psy alone during their attempted purge of empaths, psychometrics were as tied to emotion as empaths.

The big difference, however, was that Ps-Psy could distance themselves by only working with objects old enough that the emotional resonance was so faded as to be negligible. Empaths had no such choice. Es also came into direct contact with violent emotions, the reason why they could utilize it as a weapon in exigent circumstances.

Prior to the fall of Silence, Auden and others like her had only experienced emotion thirdhand. Other people's emotions, other people's memories. Imprinted onto the objects they'd left behind. Add in the passage of time as occurred with most items handled in museums and Ps-Psy had never been a threat to the protocol.

Especially since they'd never been one of the more numerous designations. Their numbers had continued to decline in Silence because it was only the odd academic family that bred for a psychometric. Families like Auden's wanted offensive powers. If not that, then at least a designation like F, which would add to the family coffers.

Instead, her parents—two telepaths who were both beyond 9 on the Gradient—had produced a 9.4 psychometric.

Older psychometrics on the forum said that back during their time, they used to believe the NetMind was the reason for rogue psychometric births. That the neosentience that was the librarian and guardian of the Net was balancing out the psychic ecosystem to stop the extinction of their designation.

Auden had never come into contact with the NetMind and word on the Net was that it was dead, driven mad then murdered by the horrific ongoing breakdown of the PsyNet.

She rubbed a fisted hand over her heart.

"Thank you," she whispered. "If you're the reason I'm me."

Being a psychometric was all that had saved her from becoming a mirror of her father and mother. She had touched emotion all her life, even if it had been muted, and it had forever altered her. She'd never treat any sentient being as disposable. And she'd never hurt her child in the pursuit of power.

"I'll protect you," she said as she levered herself down to the futon by bracing one hand atop a short bedside dresser she'd placed there for just this purpose. "I'll find a way."

Because while she could protect her child's mind inside her own, she couldn't protect their body. That didn't even take the devastation in the PsyNet into account. Her baby was going to be born into a world where her life hung by a psychic thread—and into a house where people were far too interested in a pregnancy that should never have happened.

Her mouth tightened.

Exhaling after she was settled on the futon, she reached into the last drawer of the dresser to retrieve a small and narrow black box. When she opened it, it was to reveal a gleaming black laser weapon.

Small enough to fit into her palm.

Three settings, including a stun that could kill.

A gift from her father on her fifteenth birthday.

"Secrets can be power, Auden," he'd told her, his big hand warm on her shoulder. "This weapon is our secret. It's recorded nowhere, and has no history. It can never be traced back to you."

"The imprints, Father?"

"It's new, machine fabricated with only minor handling. Leave it aside for a year to eighteen months to ensure no imprints remain, then I'll take you shooting."

He never had done the latter. Because Auden hadn't been Auden by then.

She still couldn't bring herself to touch the weapon. Her stomach lurched at the very idea, disturbing the child growing inside her.

Slamming the lid shut, she used her telepathy to soothe the mind that was yet amorphous.

She'd get to the gun, just not today.

Today, she'd sit in this cabin far from the dangers of the Scott household, and she'd work on how to protect the baby her mother had wanted so much that she'd consented to it in her role as the person with authority over an impaired Auden.

Now Charisma and Dr.Verhoeven would carry out her ruthless and brilliant mother's orders. Their loyalty to Shoshanna was a truth unshakable—and no matter the lip service paid to Auden's role as CEO, or her uncle's role as head of the family, Charisma was the one in charge, the one to whom Shoshanna had entrusted the codes needed to run the entire Scott operation.

And two days ago, Charisma had ordered an intensive brain scan of Auden's baby—even though her unborn child didn't even have a fully formed brain. Auden had permitted it only because it had been noninvasive and caused her baby no distress. She'd had to grit her teeth throughout, however; remind herself that she was playing the long game.

Her silent rage had been a heat scalding enough to start a forest fire.

She turned to the box that held the gun, picked it up again. It didn't matter what it did to her to handle a weapon, didn't matter if doing violence would destroy a piece of her. This wasn't about her. She was already damaged in ways nothing would heal, but her baby? Her baby had a chance to live a life free of pain and fear.

Auden opened the box.