"Then hurry the hell up. We have our orders."

Gideon opened his eyes, the light in the room skimming over the irises, turning them black. "Why the rush? Lucas will see us coming."

"Lucas always sees us coming. It doesn't change anything. It never will."

[FOUR].

JULY 2379.

SLUMS OF THE ANGELS, USA.

They ditched the SUV two kilometers from their destination.

The streets of the Slums were shrouded in darkness, the ruins beneath the city towers like miniature mountains of rubble. People worked their entire lives down hard-cleared alleyways and never left the cartel territory they called home. Electricity was patchwork at best, always expensive and never reliable, even with backup generators.

Kerr's telepathy kept people from looking at them twice as they made their way down the crowded street in a small group. They had already used up the pass cards after a dozen checkpoints, deep enough now in cartel territory that telepathy was the only thing they could rely on. The target pulsed on the mental grid on the other side of a raucous street market teeming with people who moved out of their way with brief mental nudging.

Kerr had everyone shielded beneath his power, so when the psi signature that he recognized from previous missions pinged off the mental grid, he only hoped they hadn't been sensed here on the ground. Even as Kerr began to build up telepathic walls between the Strykers and the Warhound telepath, that mind winked out. Not dead, because Warhounds could drop off bioscanners with a thought and read as human on the mental grid when it mattered. It was a trick no Stryker had yet learned to imitate. A trick they hadn't been allowed to learn. Those who tried were terminated. The government liked to keep tabs on their dogs at all times.

"Warhounds," Kerr warned as they shoved their way through a line of people waiting impatiently for their weekly allotment of vitamins and supplements. "This will probably get ugly."

"Hell," Threnody said. She took a sip of distilled water from her water bottle before re-clipping it to her belt, next to the pouch containing her filter-capable skinmask. "We got further than I thought we would. Psi signatures?"

Kerr pulled his mind out of the masses. "I got enough from the initial touch. Class II telepath, female. You know what that means."

Quinton glanced at Threnody and grimaced. "There's only one Class II telepath in the Warhound ranks."

"Brilliant. I always wanted to die at the hands of someone I'll never see coming," Jason said, voice a little garbled as he cupped his hands around a cigarette and lit it. "Never knew this target was such a prize. Two years and the strongest members of the Warhounds still haven't been able to catch it either. Maybe we should just attempt to take them out rather than this target."

"We'd have to be able to identify them, which no one has, but they aren't why we're here. It's not our place to question orders, Jason."

"And look where that's got you."

Threnody reached out and grabbed Quinton's arm before her partner could put his fist through Jason's face. "Not the place," she snapped. "I want to know how often you come across Warhounds when tracking this unaffiliated psion."

Jason pocketed his lighter. "Often enough. If not this set of psions, it's some other Warhound. Neither side has gotten close to retrieving the target."

Threnody didn't say anything. She didn't need to be reminded of how impossible this mission was.

"Still think it's worth it?" Kerr asked.

"Guess we'll find out, won't we?" She glanced at him. "How's your mental balance? We're going to need you to hold steady."

Kerr bristled, offended. "Don't worry about me."

"I'm not. I'm worrying about myself."

Conversation died, both physical and mental, as they picked up the pace. The crowd didn't ease up, becoming thicker the farther they walked. Only when they rounded the corner did they figure out why. Between them and a crumbling landmark cathedral was a veritable tenement of ragged tents and lean-tos. The stench of so many people was worse here than in the streets behind them.

"Is it Sunday?" Jason wanted to know.

"Would it matter?" Quinton said as he reached for his gun, pulled it free, and thumbed the safety off.

"Kerr?" Threnody said. "The target?"

A brief pulse of telepathic power and then: "Still on the mental grid." Kerr sounded surprised.

"Let's do this."

The four of them walked through the dirty crowd, Kerr's telepathy clearing them a way to the locked doors of the cathedral. Threnody placed a hand on the control panel just to the left of the doors and used her power to short-circuit the locking mechanism. Jason hauled the doors open telekinetically, just enough for them to slip inside, before closing the doors.

They came into a space that had dirt on the floor, dust in the air, and lights that were only half on. They noticed the emptiness first, the body second. The corpse was sprawled on the steps leading up to the chancel, white and crimson-edged vestments fanned out around it.

Quinton caught Kerr's eye and the two of them approached the body, Jason's telekinesis wrapped firmly around them in a shield. Quinton rested his finger lightly against the trigger guard of his gun as he kept an eye on their surroundings while Kerr knelt down beside the corpse. Kerr lowered a few of his mental shields, reaching out with his telepathy.

There were no physical wounds, no blood, to mark the bishop's passing. It took heavy, extensive trauma to the mind for the wounds to translate to the body. When they did, they showed mostly above the neck. Kerr studied the dead man's twisted face as he withdrew from the edges of the gaping hole that existed where personality had once resided.

"Six hours," he said. "Judging by the echo left behind on the mental grid, his mind was ripped apart from the foundation outwards. Hard telepathic strike."

"I thought we were dealing with a telekinetic, not a telepath?" Quinton said slowly. "One strong enough to teleport. That's the only explanation we were given for how the target has managed to appear and disappear so quickly from one place to the next across continents."

"Sometimes the mental grid can be made to lie."

Quinton stared at Kerr. "That takes a lot of strength and a psionic power that's not telekinesis."

"What about the Warhounds who just arrived?" Threnody asked as she and Jason approached.

Kerr shook his head. "This wasn't them. This is-the wound's too deep. A Class II telepath didn't do this. Couldn't do this."

Threnody, trained to have a tactician's mind, snapped through all the possibilities in seconds, coming up with the only one that made any sense. It left her cold, breathing too fast, as she turned to face Jason.

"Get us out of here. Now."

Jason didn't bother to second-guess her order, just tapped into his telekinesis, visualized the 'port out of there, and let his mind carry the weight of them all out of the Slums.

Or tried to.

The world shifted in an instant, their kinesthesia stretching past the point of stability for a long millisecond before snapping back into the same reality they were trying to escape. The backlash ricocheted through their minds, the worst of it burning hard and fast through Jason's mental channels as they all hit against a telekinetic wall that he couldn't break through.

Jason doubled over, falling to his knees as a crippling headache nearly blinded him. The rest of them struggled to get their balance back even as a voice filled the silence of the cathedral.

Rude of you to leave so soon when it's taken forever to get you here.

A tall young man, with dark blue eyes and a messy tangle of white-blond hair, appeared on the dais above them. They recognized him instantly. It was who he was, and what he wasn't supposed to be, that shocked the Strykers into silence. Four pairs of eyes were riveted on a face many had only seen in news streams over the years, a young boy growing into adulthood with the world at his feet, the poster child for the privileged elite.

Where's a fucking precog when you need one? Threnody thought in some distant, bitter corner of her mind as she tried to struggle, but couldn't, in the Class I telekinetic grip Lucas Serca had her in.

Usually dead, Lucas said telepathically for all of them to hear. Personally, I consider them a pain in the arse.

Kerr's telepathic shields slammed up between them and Lucas as he readied for an attack, but it was a useless gesture. Kerr didn't stand a chance against the man who would one day run the Serca Syndicate, he only knew that he had to try.

Lucas's smile stretched wider.

Psions were ranked for a reason, the various mental powers assigned by tenths of strength of conscious Brain Power Used on the Class scale. Class X were straight humans with 10 percent of BPU, and Class IX were those humans who had a fair amount of sixth sense, the sort that let them survive in a harsh world when other humans would merely die. Class VIII through I were psion ranks, and of them all, Class I was the rarest, most powerful rank.

A Class I triad psion was born only once every other generation, if that. They burned bright and fast, dying off young if they constantly used the powers they were born with, a risk every psion took.

This generation there were two.

Lucas, born with telepathy and telekinesis strong enough for teleportation, cut through Kerr's telepathic attack with a brutality that sent Kerr's power snapping back through the Stryker's brain. The backlash sent Kerr's mind almost to the breaking point, his shields skittering against their mental foundations, his control slipping away. Swearing, Kerr struggled to get his telepathy under control through the agony he was feeling.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair as he eyed the four in front of him. "This is not how it's supposed to go."

"You're a Serca and a psion?" Jason asked incredulously.

Lucas arched an eyebrow. "Now, really, how else did you think we keep our Warhounds in check?"

All four Strykers flinched at the admission of whom the Warhounds belonged to. The government and Strykers had known the Warhounds were organized; they simply hadn't known they were owned by anyone, much less by one of the world's oldest, most prestigious human families. Only not so human, judging by what Lucas could do, by what he really was.

"What do you want?" Quinton asked in a stiff voice.

"Not any of you dead, Stryker. I'm not here to kill you."

"Do you really expect us to believe that?"

"Belief is subjective. I've already had this conversation once today, I'm in no mood to have it again. You're here for me, Stryker. Or did you honestly think that you were targeting an unaffiliated psion?"

Quinton clenched his teeth, muscles standing out in his neck. He turned his head to stare at Threnody, keeping her in view. Threnody kept her attention on Lucas, knowing all she needed was just one touch to take him down; knowing that she would never get that chance.

"I've got a proposition for you," Lucas said. He leaned back against the table and gripped the edge of it with both hands as he looked at Threnody.

"We don't negotiate with Warhounds," Threnody said automatically.

"I bet I can change your mind. I won't even need telepathy to do it." Lucas turned an indulgent smile on her. "Let's even up the odds, shall we? You've got five seconds."

In reality, it was more like two. Threnody blinked and nearly missed the arrival of three Warhounds as they teleported into the middle of the cathedral. Threnody felt Lucas's telekinesis disappear and she moved instantly, the other Strykers doing the same, because to stand still meant certain death, and shock at the revelation of Sercas as psions wasn't enough to cripple their responses.

Jin Li immediately tossed a dozen small, round electric surge anchors in Gideon's direction. The Class II telekinetic caught them with his power and scattered them around the cathedral with a thought, wires linking all of them together. Jin Li twisted the surge anchor in his hands, activating it and all the others. Electricity flowed through the device, powered by Jin Li, a barrier that was a dangerous extension of himself. The surge net took that power and multiplied it ten times over until the entire place burned with it, electricity crawling across the floor and walls and high, arched ceiling, looking for conductors.

Jin Li's power found it in bodies.

Jason struggled to bring up a telekinetic shield, but he was still suffering from being yanked unexpectedly out of a teleport and wasn't quick enough to block the first wave completely. It shocked through him like lightning, curling through his nervous system and brain. His control skipped just out of reach and his shields wavered.

Hands grabbed his arm and shoulder, dragging him behind the precarious safety of a pew. Kerr focused his power on Jason, looking into those bloodshot hazel eyes, and snarled, "Shields."

With Kerr's help, Jason wrenched his power back into place, managing to slide his telekinesis around them both. The sudden absence of electric burn left both of them gasping for breath and reaching for their guns. Together, they took aim at Jin Li. Neither of them were surprised when all the bullets missed. A distraction only, and not a threat; both sides had telekinetics to shield against bullets.

Across the aisle Threnody had her hand pressed firmly to the back of Quinton's neck, her power regulating both their nervous systems against Jin Li's attack. She was still recovering from the last time she had pulled this maneuver in Johannesburg against Jin Li and it was a strain, her power barely able to cope.

"Jason," Threnody said. "Get a shield around Quinton."

She could handle Jin Li's power on her own. Quinton was a drain on her reserves that she couldn't allow. Seconds later, she felt invisible power hardening between her fingers and Quinton's neck, a telekinetic barrier that would let him live. She pulled away, blue ribbons of electricity arcing from fingertip to fingertip, sliding up her arm and through her body. Quinton took aim with his gun at Samantha and fired, the weapon the only thing Jason wasn't shielding. When the gun was wrenched out of his hands, nearly breaking his trigger finger, Quinton realized that Gideon didn't much like people targeting his twin.

Jason looked up, eyes sweeping over the cathedral's interior to visually tag everyone's position. His inspecs were dead in his eyes from the electrical surge, leaving only the human spectrum for him to work with, and eventually even that threatened to shut down as a massive telepathic blow pounded against his mental shields. The surprise that leaked from Samantha into his mind when they didn't break wasn't comforting.

You can't keep those up forever, Samantha said as she began to bear down on his mind.

They keep themselves up, Jason shot back even as he dialed back on the strength of his telekinetic output to focus on the telepathic strike that was carving mental canyons into the outer edges of his mind. Canyons that were then filled by Kerr's power, a burning challenge that Samantha was forced to reckon with.

Get the fuck out of his mind, Kerr said.

The twins had spent their entire life learning how to wield their powers simultaneously in a merge, like the dual psion they resembled, but weren't. Kerr and Jason didn't have the twins' expertise, but that didn't mean they weren't up to the task of protecting themselves against a pair of Class II psions. It just meant they would be the first to falter.

Nearby, Threnody had emptied an entire clip at the Warhounds, the bullets going everywhere except into bodies. Ejecting the empty magazine, she looked over at Quinton and said, "Burn it the fuck down."

He didn't answer her in words. The air down in the Slums was heavy, thick, and hard to breathe at the best of times. It trapped heat and caused the temperature to rise higher than the regulated environment in the city towers of Los Angeles. It was already sticky hot in the cathedral, mere degrees cooler than the suffocating heat that burned outside.

Quinton made it hotter.

He couldn't create fire, but he could control it, use it, make it grow. Quinton clenched his hands into fists, the biomodifications in his limbs releasing the natural gas from biotubes in his arms. He snapped his fingers, the metal tips sparking the gas into fire that crawled through the air and expanded around where he stood. The red-orange flames flickered in the air until it was like an inferno that he sent roaring down the middle aisle of the cathedral toward the Warhounds.

Gideon's telekinesis saved the Warhounds as fire engulfed them. It blinded them from any physical attack even as Gideon reached out with his power and grappled with Jason's to get to Quinton. Quinton's attack still bought them seconds, precious time for Threnody to lunge for the nearest electric surge anchor, get her fingers around it, and slam her power through its electrical field. The surge net broke beneath her power, circuits frying as she overloaded its limited system faster than Jin Li could counteract it, bringing down the barrier separating the two groups.

In retaliation, Jin Li targeted her first, as he had in Johannesburg, electricity sparking across his fist as he aimed for her face. She knocked aside his first attack and dodged an elbow to the throat, Jin Li's blow connecting with her shoulder instead. They fought their way down the aisle toward the back of the cathedral, a pitched battle that was as much fists as it was power. Threnody was fast, but Jin Li was faster, and he caught her in his grip, slamming her up against the wall. His hands were around her throat, just as they had been the last time when he almost killed her. Right now, he meant to rectify that failure.

Threnody planted her hands against his chest, fingers digging into the bare skin near the hollow of his throat, and shoved her power into him before he could off-load into her. She needed to stop his heart if she was going to kill him. She almost did.

Electricity ripped through both of them, frying their nervous systems and pushing their hearts to the breaking point. Their screams mingled over the roar of the fire, over the rush of blood to her head as telepathy that wasn't Kerr's swallowed her mind.

Come with me, Lucas said. You know you don't have any other choice.

Threnody gasped for air as her skin got hotter and hotter, her nerves seeking to burn right out of her body. The world bled colors brought on by extreme stress from Jin Li's power, a disconnect caused by a nervous system out of whack, synapses not firing correctly. The neuroplasticity of the brain freezing up, just for a nanosecond.