Tangle of Need (Psy-Changeling #11)(148)

Touching the NetMind and the DarkMind, the latter identity still stronger than the former, he asked them to tell him what they saw. His mind filled with an overlay of fine lines across the star-studded skies of the Net. Those were the “blood vessels” of the network, conduits for the rapid transfer of information. He disregarded them to focus on the finer red lines below—psychic alerts someone had rigged in a section of the Net that appeared uninhabited.

Skirting the trip wires with the flawless mental grace of a cardinal with lethal combat training, he continued toward his target. There were more trip wires, more traps, until he glimpsed the minds of the guards at last. But they didn’t see him. Cloaked in psychic invisibility, his shields impenetrable, he passed right by them. To find himself in front of the doors of a locked psychic vault disguised as dead space. It had been constructed by a telepath of considerable skill, its effect to create a prison around a particular mind, ensuring no trace of that mind leaked out into the Net.

Kaleb had waited too long to make a mistake now. He circled around the vault to check for hidden alarms that would alert the ones who monitored it. He found five. Dismantling them took four hours of unremitting concentration. Only when he was certain no other alarms remained, did he “break” the psychic seal of the vault and step inside. He stayed two seconds, just long enough to take a telepathic imprint of the mind within.

Dropping out of the Net after leaving the guarded and rigged area with the careful stealth he’d used to enter it, he teleported at almost the same instant, using the imprint of that imprisoned mind as a telekinetic lock. This was the rarest possible method of getting a lock, because to get it, you had to rip apart the shields of the mind being used as a lock, effectively laying the brain open—but the mind he’d seen in the vault had already been stripped, its shields destroyed.

Completing the teleport, he found himself in a small white cell, the walls padded, the glare from the single ceiling lamp cutting. No windows. No natural light.

He ignored the irrelevant factors. Only one thing mattered.

He’d found her.