Shards of Hope

Chapter 32

OVER THE NEXT three days, Aden spoke one-on-one with every single senior Arrow in the squad—classified as Arrows who’d been active in the field for more than two decades. What he heard was troubling.

“I’m forty-five years old,” a female Arrow named Irena said to him. “All I’ve ever known is Silence. All I’ve ever been is a killing machine.” She stopped beside a tree with glossy green leaves in the underground park that abutted Central Command. “Emotion is my enemy and the discipline of the squad is all that keeps me sane.”

The echo of Zaira’s own reason for rejecting his proposal added another layer of ice to his veins. “The Honeycomb?”

Irena touched one of the leaves. “I wish I wasn’t part of it.” Dark hazel eyes met his as she dropped her fingers from the leaf and turned to face him. “I can feel it pressing against me, awakening things that shouldn’t be awakened.” A hand placed over her heart. “This organ is starting to wake, starting to have needs I can never fulfill. I don’t have that capacity and I wonder if the need will one day drive me mad.”

Again and again and again, he had the same conversation, discovered the same disturbing truth: the senior Arrows felt as if they had no place in the new squad. Each promised not to follow Edward into suicide, but only because that would leave him with a personnel shortage.

“I’ve told them we need their expertise, their experience, their strength,” he said to Vasic as they sat on a sand dune in the desert to which Vasic had teleported them late on the third day. “I’m not sure they’re hearing what I’m saying.” He thought of what Irena had said. “They’re having trouble handling the emotions being nudged awake by the connection with the empaths—not one believes he or she can make it, even with you, Abbot, and Judd as examples.”

“And Stefan,” Vasic said. “He might not be an Arrow, but he is one of us.”

“Yes.” Aden knew that should he call, the Tk based on the deep-sea station Alaris would respond without question. “All four of you are powerful yet it doesn’t seem to make a difference to the senior Arrows.”

“They need to see you do it.”

Aden wasn’t ready to talk about that yet, not when the only woman he wanted by his side would only agree to stand there as a soldier—a woman who might only be able to stand there as a soldier. He’d been selfish in pushing her, he knew that. He also knew he’d probably do it again. Zaira was his own madness. “I’m not sure even that’ll be enough,” he said aloud. “We’re all of a younger generation.”

“Have you thought about using your parents?”

“My parents?” He was well aware that neither Zaira nor Vasic were fans of Marjorie and Naoshi.

“They’re older than all the active senior Arrows and despite having lived in the outside world since their defection, surrounded by emotion, they’ve held themselves together,” Vasic responded. “Put them in charge of the welfare of the older Arrows, the ones who are struggling.”

“My parents aren’t known for their kind hearts—and they survived in the outside world by sticking dogmatically to the tenets of Silence.” No softness, no deviations from Arrow protocol. “That’s not the life I want for my Arrows.”

Vasic’s black hair lifted in the warm desert breeze. “Yes, but it might be the life these Arrows need to live. In time, that may change—we just have to keep them with us long enough.”

Aden considered Vasic’s suggestion in silence, nodded slowly. “You’re right.” His parents might have any number of faults, but they also had a lifetime of experience that could help in this situation. They would know which tasks to assign to best keep the older Arrows stable, which mental exercises to teach. As important, the senior Arrows would listen because Marjorie and Naoshi had more than proven their mettle. “I wouldn’t trust them to train younger Arrows, but they’ve always believed that Arrows who’ve put in their time deserve to retire in peace—regardless of their physical or mental state.”

Aden couldn’t see either of his parents treating the senior Arrows with anything other than respect, but he hadn’t forgotten what Zaira had said of his father’s comments about locking up Alejandro. Naoshi had likely deemed that an acceptable action because Alejandro was young, hadn’t “earned” the care of the squad, but just in case—“One of us will have to keep a subtle eye on them, make sure they haven’t become unforgiving of flaws.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Vasic said. “But I’m certain it’ll work—Ivy met your parents during the time you were missing and she said while they came across as abrasive, she also sensed a deep commitment to their fellow Arrows.”

Aden was unsurprised. “I learned about loyalty from them.” Only where he gave it to each individual Arrow and Arrow trainee, Marjorie’s and Naoshi’s loyalty was to the squad as a whole.

It was a subtle but vitally important difference that would forever divide them.

Vasic spoke again into the desert quiet. “The appointment will also clarify your parents’ status in the squad now that we no longer have to maintain an external network.”

That was what Marjorie and Naoshi had done while officially “dead”—acted as base command for all the different Arrow bolt-holes around the world, many of which they’d helped establish. Once Aden and his people got an at-risk Arrow out, Marjorie and Naoshi were the ones who’d set the defector up with a new life and teach that Arrow how to integrate into the world. A significant percentage, wanting to remain active as Arrows, had ended up in Venice under Zaira’s command, but others had preferred or needed a quieter or more remote location.

The safe houses would stay in place and any Arrow who wanted to continue his or her life outside was welcome to do so, but the urgency and importance of the task was now over. Currently, Marjorie and Naoshi were at loose ends and struggling to understand the fact that Aden didn’t intend to hand over the reins of the squad to them.

That he would never do, but their long service deserved a position where their status was clear cut and respected. “I’ll talk to them.”

“Why haven’t you mentioned Zaira?” Vasic said without warning.

Aden looked at his friend’s profile, Vasic’s skin deep gold in the light of the setting sun. “Why should I?”

“Aden.” Winter gray eyes met his. “I was with you when you first met her, and I was with you when you hacked the security systems to send her an e-mail. I know she means more to you than you’ve ever consciously acknowledged.”

Aden thought of his and Zaira’s time together in the aerie, and before that, of their fight to survive. The memories were burned into his soul. “You’ve never said anything before.”

“I didn’t understand who she was to you then.” Reaching out to the little white dog who’d run along the top of the sand dune to sprawl huffing at his side, Vasic scratched his and Ivy’s pet between the ears. “It took my love for Ivy to open my eyes.”

A pause as they watched the last of the sun’s rays fade.

“She’s yours, Aden,” Vasic said in the falling dark. “Always has been, always will be. And I’m fairly certain she considers you hers. Did you ever notice that the two of us were hardly ever in the same room together before my marriage? Zaira saw me as competition for you.”

Aden thought of the feral fury with which Zaira had nearly attacked the RainFire woman, of the way the two of them had touched in the midnight hours, of the fact that she still wore his leather jacket, and gripped his wrist so hard he could feel his bones grinding into dust. “It’s not enough,” he managed to get out. “She believes her future lies in her past.”

“And I believed my future held nothing but death.”

Recovered from his exertions, Rabbit padded over to Aden and dropped a stick he’d brought from the orchard. Aden picked it up and threw into the distance. Barking excitedly, the dog flew down the dune after the stick. “I’ve tried to reason with her. I’ve tried emotion.”

Vasic propped his arm on one knee. “The only reason I lived long enough for Ivy to find me was that you were too stubborn to let me die. I don’t need your stubbornness anymore—Zaira does.”

Aden looked to his friend again as Rabbit began to run back with the stick. “I’ll simply wear her down?”

A slight curve of Vasic’s lips. “Some barriers need to be worn down.” Eyes flicking down, he used his Tk to help Rabbit climb the sand dune.

Changing subjects, because thinking of Zaira made things hurt inside him that had been torn wide open when he touched Vasic’s bond with Ivy, Aden threw the stick again for Rabbit. “Ashaya Aleine has agreed to work with our techs on the implant.”

“You aren’t worried about how she might use any data she uncovers?”

“Aleine has proven her principles, but the squad has officially hired her for the project. The contract specifies confidentiality.” Aden didn’t think the DarkRiver leopards, whom Aleine called packmates, would misuse the data, but he wasn’t taking the risk.

“I can’t work out how you managed that,” Vasic said. “It’s not as if Aleine isn’t in demand.”

“According to Aleine, I ‘seduced’ her with a glimpse of the implant.” Aden had hoped the scientist wouldn’t be able to resist, was glad to be proven right. “I need to talk to Walker.”

Judd’s brother had been Aden’s teacher once, the only teacher who had ever truly seen him. The telepath had also helped Aden come up with the new curriculum for Arrow children, his answer to Aden’s initial request a simple one that betrayed the powerful heart that beat in Walker’s chest.

“Of course I’ll help, Aden.”

Walker might never have worn the badge of the squad, but he was one of them in a way Ming LeBon would never be. Walker understood loyalty, understood that even an Arrow’s life had value.

“I can teleport you to him if you make contact—it’s still relatively early in the afternoon in his region.”

Aden made the call. Walker was in the middle of building a table with the children he supervised, but agreed to meet with Aden. “I’ll see you at the church in three hours,” he said. “That’ll give me enough time to finish this and get down there.”

Aden didn’t know what connection the Laurens had with Father Xavier Perez, but his church was a known meeting point. Walker was waiting for them on the back steps when they arrived, his forearms braced on his thighs. Dressed in worn jeans and a simple white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, his dark blond hair swept roughly back, he could’ve been any ordinary man. It was his pale green eyes that gave him away—intent and focused and strikingly intelligent.

Walker rose to his feet and joined Aden near the trees at the edge of the yard, Vasic ’porting away after a nod of greeting.

“You said you lost an Arrow,” Walker said, his expression grim in the early evening light. “How?”

Aden told him, could see Walker taking it in. “I’ve accepted I have to lead from the front,” he added, though he didn’t yet have a solution as to how to get Zaira to accept his proposal. “But I’m younger by at least a decade from the ones at most risk. Seeing me make it won’t be enough—and while my parents can keep them stable, I want more than a life in stasis for the senior Arrows.”

Folding his arms, Walker leaned back against a tree. “For a long time, I saw myself as too damaged by Silence to ever be a good father, much less a good mate.”

Yet Aden knew Walker was both. “How did you get past it?”

“I had to.” A blunt response. “I had a daughter, a nephew, and a niece who needed me. I also had a brother who needed me, for all that he was an adult.”

The wind riffled through Aden’s hair as he stood there. “Judd was lucky to have you.” Aden hadn’t known it at the time, but unlike most siblings whose brothers or sisters were claimed by the Council for the squad, Walker had never lost touch with his brother—he’d kept Judd connected to the family unit, and in so doing, saved his soul.

“No, I was the lucky one.” Walker straightened, the two of them falling into an easy walk through the peaceful old graveyard behind and to the left of the church. “Marlee, Toby, Sienna, and Judd, they forced me to be a better man. The children expected me to know what to do in an unfamiliar environment, teach them how to live in it, and Judd expected me to care for the children’s well-being so he could focus on their safety.”

Walking through the neatly kept grass, Aden began to see what Walker was telling him; the other man was a teacher who never simply gave his students the information. They had to work for it, and in the process, learn. “I have to find a way to connect the old generation of Arrows with our most vulnerable.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “I’ve been hesitant because many of the senior Arrows have very little flexibility in them—I don’t want them doing inadvertent damage.”

“I understand your worry.” Bending down, Walker took a second to replace a bouquet that had been blown off a gravestone. “But being needed is a powerful driving force.”

Aden thought of how he needed Zaira to need him, how it felt to be important to someone not because he was an Arrow but because he was Aden, and knew Walker was right. “Do you have any suggestions about how we can do this?” Aden wasn’t arrogant, not when it came to his people. He’d take advice where he could get it and from Walker he’d listen to even the most outlandish suggestion.

“I wouldn’t advise full integration all at once and you should regularly touch base with your parents to see how the older Arrows are handling any changes, but there’s no harm in creating more opportunities for regular contact between adult Arrows and Arrow children. It can be as simple as having a senior Arrow teach a class of six-year-olds.”

Aden knew no Arrow would disagree with that type of an educational request, so the mechanics were achievable. “I think,” he said, considering the idea from all angles, “the classes would work better if done in partnership with a teacher more in sync with life beyond Silence.”

Walker nodded. “One of the empaths, possibly, or even a non-Psy teacher.”

Halting, Aden turned to face the telepath. “How can a non-Psy teacher hope to understand children so violently powerful? He or she would have few defenses against a child’s tantrum.”

“Marlee’s art teacher is a human,” Walker told him. “She’s elderly and frail and has no defenses against wolf claws or Marlee’s psychic strength, yet she’s kept a classroom in control for decades.”

“Arrow children aren’t used to non-Psy teachers,” Aden said, his mind already working the possibilities. “There’s also the security aspect—I can’t risk exposing the children to those who might sell the information of their location and abilities.” As shown by Zaira’s childhood experiences and Pax Marshall’s recent moves, some people would do anything to control such power.

“I can recommend some who can be trusted, including two from SnowDancer and one from DarkRiver who are on short-term contracts that’ll end in the next few months.” Walker stopped at the edge of the graveyard, beneath the spreading branches of a tree with leaves of a silvery green. “For now, I can help advise the people you already have.”

Aden looked out at the peace of the graveyard and beyond to the trees, but his thoughts were far distant. “I want to make the squad a family.” A place where even the outcasts could find hope. “Not just tied together by mutual need, but by bonds of emotion.”

Walker put his hand on Aden’s shoulder. “You will,” he said. “You were an extraordinary boy and you’ve grown into a man as extraordinary.”

The pride in Walker’s words meant more to Aden than anything either one of his parents could have said. Because where Marjorie and Naoshi had abandoned him to further their cause, Walker Lauren had put his life on the line to come back into the Arrow training rooms one last time to give Aden the final telepathic lesson he needed to stay safe.

“Why did you come back after you were relieved of duty?” he asked as they started to walk again. “You risked everything.” Walker had been transferred out to a more mainstream military school partway through Aden’s elementary schooling, after the squad’s leadership decided he wasn’t a ruthless enough teacher for child Arrows. His covert entry back into the training center would’ve been seen as a breach of security, with the attendant fatal consequences.

“If I could have, I would’ve taken you with me,” Walker said. “That I couldn’t do, but I could make sure you had the tools to survive.”

It didn’t quite answer Aden’s question, but he didn’t push.

Then Walker added, “You’re not my son, Aden, but that’s how I’ve always thought of you.”

A stretching pain in Aden’s heart that threatened to steal his breath. Unable to speak, he simply nodded and knew it was inadequate, but he also knew Walker would understand. Walker had always understood him. “The squad will need you more than ever now,” he said at last. “Can the SnowDancer alpha spare you?”

“I’ve spoken to him.” Walker turned his face into the cool wind. “I’m responsible for a group of children in SnowDancer, too, and I intend to continue in that role, but I’ve been taken off all other tasks so I can assist you.” Finally, he could help the boy he’d been forced to leave behind in a situation that would’ve crushed so many.

He’d never forgotten Aden, never not thought about him. Small and with those wise eyes that were old beyond his years, the boy had been better than all the darkness around him. Now he was a leader struggling to guide his people out of that same darkness and Walker would do everything in his power to help him. “What about you?”

Aden looked at him with eyes that were even older than when he’d been a child. “Me?”

“You speak only of the squad. What about your own needs?” Aden had always focused on others, never on himself.

“I—” Aden paused, the hesitation unusual enough that Walker turned to face him.

The younger man looked into the distance for several seconds before returning his attention to Walker. “It’s selfish to think of myself,” he said at last and Walker had the sense he was fighting an internal battle. “The squad’s needs come first.”

Reflecting on his own family, on the pack, on what he’d noted of their alpha, Walker said, “In the years since I joined SnowDancer, I’ve learned that joy makes me a better father, a better brother, a better uncle, and a better mate.” He thought of his mate’s smile, of the way Lara had of loving until it spilled over onto everyone in her vicinity . . . and how her love for him was a pulse in his heart. “The fact I’m happy colors my every interaction.”

He clasped Aden’s shoulder again, as he might with Toby. His nephew was a very different boy from the man Aden had become, but they were both his sons of the heart. “I’m not saying you’re not a good leader, Aden. I’m saying taking time for yourself won’t make you any less of a good leader, and the effect of your happiness will trickle down through the entire squad. Take what you need, what you’re fighting not to need.”

What he didn’t say, because it was too heavy a burden for any man to bear, was that Aden was already a leader who was on his way to greatness. If he didn’t lose his way, if he didn’t break under the strain, he’d become a man who would be written of in history. To make it, he needed someone to walk with him, to hold him when things became too hard, and to fight for his right to his own happiness.

Aden needed love more than anyone Walker had ever met.