Forgotten Gods Boxed Set

The Complete Series

ST Branton

CM Raymond

LE Barbant

Forgotten Gods Boxed Set (this book) is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

Copyright © 2019 ST Branton, CM Raymond and LE Barbant

Cover copyright © LMBPN Publishing

LMBPN Publishing supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.

The distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact support@lmbpn.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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First US edition, May 2019

Contents

Forgotten Gods

Goddess Scorned

Hounded by the Gods

God in the Darkness

Gods Of New York

God Country

Haunted By The Gods

Gods Remembered

Forgotten Gods

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 1

Prologue

A labyrinth of gleaming hallways stretched before Marcus, twisting and turning to a thousand ends. To the uninitiated, it might have looked daunting, but for those who had dwelled in the honeyed hills of Carcerum since its conception, the palace of Kronin, Hero-King of the Gods, was as familiar as home. That was, after all, what he had meant it to be.

A new home for an old, old people.

Things had not quite turned out that way.

Marcus took the next turn so fast that the soles of his boots slipped on the ever-polished floor. He dug the tip of his spear down into the surface, using it as a fulcrum to launch himself forward with even greater speed. The spear left a gouge in the soft gold that in days past would have been swiftly mended. Now, it hardly mattered because Carcerum would likely be empty soon.

The Centurion had a dreadful suspicion that he was already too late.

The door to Kronin’s royal chamber lay at the end of a long corridor, its ceiling vaulting into crisscrossed shadows. The torches ensconced on the walls were out, except for the two at the very end, and yet, he could see the shapes of guards standing sentinel before the towering door.

For a moment, Marcus felt a flicker of hope. But the moment passed as he saw that the guards were not Kronin’s, but rather the twisted creations of an evil mind.

His fears all but confirmed, Marcus fell back on the hardened instincts of former glory. Gripping tightly to the shaft of his spear, he raised the weapon and charged forward. A battle cry erupted from the warrior’s lungs. If this was to be his last great stand, he was going to make it in style.

The pale creatures steeled themselves. Their swords met over the doorway, blade to blade. The challenge was clear, but Marcus did not stop or even slow his advance. He had fought and killed greater beings than these.

Marcus darted in like lightning, dodging their gleaming sharp swords. Two quick thrusts of his spear pierced the creatures’ hearts, and their bloodless armor clattered to the floor. Pallid skin on gaunt faces faded into the realm beyond, but the old Roman soldier hardly took notice. Of course, his great foe had already been through here. These corrupted souls were not protecting Marcus’s king but keeping aid from reaching him.

The black truth could not be denied any longer: Marcus was too late, after all.

A swift kick from his sandaled foot flung the door open, raining golden shrapnel from its ornate carvings. The spear clenched in Marcus’s hands paused involuntarily in its quest for enemy blood. He felt the breath rush from his lungs. He had long envisioned such a sight in his nightmares but never dared to think it might come true.

Kronin, Marcus’s god and king—his hero—knelt before the throne. There was a gaping hole in his back where he had been betrayed.

Standing before him was the betrayer himself, pale and tall, like a man who had been stretched too thin—Lorcan, the self-proclaimed god of shadow.

The Centurion roared in anger and in anguish, but the dark god before him only smiled then motioned with his head. A dozen of Lorcan’s forces swarmed toward the door.

Marcus charged forward, but the old warrior soon found himself surrounded by a sea of slashing weapons. He tightened his grip on the spear and swung it with a vigor that might have looked like careless abandon. This time, there was blood—Lorcan’s curse had yet to take hold fully of these bodies. The howling screams of death echoed through the throne room as he worked his way forward.

Above all else, he needed to reach Kronin.

With a flash of golden light, he saw his King before him, waging a battle of his own.

Even in his final moments, the sovereign was a vision of glory. His blade slashed in graceful arcs the same color as his palace. So many of its strikes were true. The sword shined despite the haze of blood hanging in the air and running down into his eyes. It was magnificent enough that the loyal Centurion almost failed to notice he had been stabbed. His body jerked forward from the force. He whirled around, and the point of his spear removed the assailant’s head from his body. An empty torso thudded to the ground. A moment later, so did Marcus.

Another traitor moved forward, ready to pounce on the fallen warrior. The man raised a wicked blade, preparing to cut Marcus in half. But before the weapon could fall, the man’s chest exploded in a burst of light—a holy, golden sword sticking through it.

As the man fell, Marcus could see the face of his king. Kronin smiled down at his servant—and then collapsed.

Marcus pulled himself across the blood-slick golden tiles, striving to reach the king before his soul departed. Just one of the wounds on his royal body would have proved fatal to a mortal or even a lesser god. Even in death, Kronin was without peer. Marcus hoped his killer understood that, and he hoped it made him burn with rage.

The king looked up with clouding eyes.

“Your Majesty,” Marcus said, unable to find other words. Behind, the din of shouts and footsteps clamored from the hallway. Kronin reached up with a shaky hand and pulled his servant down with the last of his strength. The footsteps thudded closer.

“Take this.” Kronin pressed the hilt of his sword into Marcus’s palm. “And… protect my people.”

Then he was gone.

Alone, the Centurion glanced down at the object in his hand, and at once, his mission crystallized. He tucked the now-bladeless sword hilt into his belt. By the time the voices came pouring through the throne room’s broken door, he had managed to regain his feet. His impressive height cast an imposing shadow over the floor.

“Stop!” someone shouted.

Bodies surged toward him, hands outstretched, ready for victory.

Marcus gazed once more upon his dead king, and then he bolted for the window. No light graced the sky, save for the pinpricks of distant stars. The way down was long—very, very long—but it was the only way left.

He did not look back as he mounted the windowsill and leapt out into the night.

The clamor from the ruined throne room faded away.

Marcus fell.

Chapter One

Five years of searching and my prize was within reach. This is going to be interesting.

Sitting in a shitty dive in Brooklyn Heights, I tried not to stick out like a sore thumb. The place was full of mobster lackeys swarming the dirty bar like locusts in a cornfield. Normally, a leggy, emerald-eyed brunette in knee-high boots wouldn’t stand a chance; they’d be on me the second I walked through the door.

Tonight, I was not in the mood to be mistaken for prey. Luckily, the lights were mercifully low.

The bar was so dark I could barely see the guy across the table, but I already knew what he looked like. All these guys were the same. Bulldog jowls, necks like a tree trunk, and a million rings squeezed onto their sausage fingers. Most of that fancy jewelry was of the costume variety, unless the man wearing it was the real deal and high up in the ranks.

This sad bastard was about as low-down as you could get, lower than a limbo stick at a drunken beach party.

He had said his name was Frank, although I was sure he thought I didn’t remember.

The shot glasses lined up in front of me like drunken soldiers certainly spoke to a night that had gone far beyond the human power of recall. Little did he know I had bribed the man pouring the booze. Half water, half whatever the hell kind of jet fuel we were drinking. So, I was buzzed but still ready to rumble.

It wasn’t a good idea to be three sheets to the wind when there was a man who needed killing, but judgement had never been my strong suit.

I put my elbows on the table, cupped my chin in my hands, and offered him a sweet smile. He smiled back, all undone tie and slightly crooked teeth. He probably pictured himself like De Niro in his prime—but he looked more like Hannibal Lector after a bowl of kidney bean soup.

Sickness rolled through my stomach, but I ignored it. No damn way I’d gotten as far as I had by backing down. Time to go deeper yet. “Tell me something about yourself, Frankie.”

The trick was to make my voice as sugary-sweet as possible, the kind of tone that would rot the teeth straight out of my mouth if I let it. These guys ate that shit up, and Frank, bless his heart, was no exception.

His grin spread, and he leaned back in his chair, lifting his hands to the side, palms up. “I’m an open book, sweetheart. What do you wanna know?”

What I really wanted to know was exactly how much force it would take to shove an empty shot glass down his throat. But I had to play nice until he gave me what I needed. After that, all bets were off.

“Well.” I looked at my nails, which had been specially painted for this little charade. “I heard you’re pretty famous around here.”

He barked out a coarse, phlegmy laugh. He tried to play off the compliment like it didn’t faze him, but he couldn’t resist puffing out his chest. “I mean, I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“Aww, c’mon.” I batted my eyelashes. “You’re just playing modest now.”

He downed his next shot and slapped another bill on the table. We were drinking for money, and from the looks of it, he had half his life savings piled up in front of him. A man his size going against a woman like me? It was an easy bet.

One that he was about to lose spectacularly.

Joke’s on you, asshat. Never underestimate a girl in stilettos and a slinky dress. “You’re way up there with the big boss, aren’t you?” I asked, taking my shot and slapping a bill on the table. “No need to be shy about it.”

Maybe I was pressing my luck a little, but he was too sloshed to notice. Or so I hoped.

Frank hiccupped. “Ah, I ain’t nothing next to Rocco.” He gestured to the money. “This look like a lot to you? If Rocco dropped that kind of cash on the street, he wouldn’t even blink an eye.” The sleazy grin reappeared. “I’m flattered, though. Really.”

“And you should be.” I traced the edge of a shot glass seductively, watching his eyes follow the tip of my finger around the rim. “I think you sell yourself short, Frankie. Rocco Durant can’t be that big of a deal, can he?”

He wheezed out another laugh. Obviously, someone misunderstood the old saying. It was an apple a day, not a pack a day that kept the doctor away. Poor shitscum. He was likely to have a heart attack and die right there on the filthy floor. It would have spared me the displeasure of his company, but I needed him alive for a little while longer. I had chosen my mark with precision. No one else in that hellhole was as likely to tell me what I needed to know.

“Doll face, you best not get caught talking like that. Rocco runs this town.” He made a loose fist and banged it clumsily on the table. The glasses jumped, clinking.

“Hey, Frankie!” someone shouted. “You break ‘em, you buy ‘em, dipshit!” This first-class quip was met by a chorus of guffaws. I caught a strong whiff of mean booze.

A crowd was forming around us, closing in. Damnit to hell. So much for keeping a low profile.

I lowered my voice. “I’m sure he’s got people like you whispering in his ear left and right.” I prodded gently, trying to ignore Frank’s compatriots. I didn’t like their intent, hungry looks. “What’s it like to be the man behind the curtain?”

We were getting warmer. A few more minutes and I’d be home free.

Frank’s face fell a little bit. The corners of his mouth sagged. He looked down at his giant, meaty hands, and I braced myself for something unpleasant, such as alcohol-induced vomiting. But in the next instant, his expression cleared.

“It’s great,” he said. “Nobody messes with you if you’re with Rocco.”

There was a weird flatness in his tone. I brushed it off. Frank’s workplace woes weren’t my concern.

I shot him a skeptical look. “Don’t tell me he looks tougher than you.”

The guy smirked. “Now I know you’re putting me on, little lady. Maybe thirty years ago, I could’ve given him a run for his money, but nowadays…” He shook his head. “It takes a special kind of man to pull off that scar. Right across the face.” He drew three fingers down from temple to lip, hooked at the knuckles like claws.

I leaned forward coyly to disguise the fact that my interest had just skyrocketed. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Too dangerous for the likes of you,” Frank replied with a yellowed smile and another nasty chuckle. It was a strange, almost kind thing for him to say. He glanced around the bar, peering through the low light. “You know, he’s here tonight. I could point him out if you really wanna see him.”

And there it was.

I dropped my hands beneath the edge of the table, upending it in one smooth motion. The shot glasses, not all of which were empty, smashed on the floor around our feet, sending glass shards and cheap liquor everywhere.

As I lunged toward Frank, I reached through the slit in my skirt and pulled the revolver free of its holster. The other flunkies stumbled backward, cheap suits and ties flapping, a flock of squawking vermin.

Someone screamed.

Frank’s chair clattered roughly to the floor beneath our combined weight. He stared up at me, bleary-eyed and stunned. I forced open his mouth with the barrel of the gun and shoved it down until I heard him gag. Then I shouted at the top of my lungs to be heard over the chaotic roar that had mounted in the room. “If anyone moves, I’ll blow his brains out!”

No one moved, but they didn’t stop talking. That was fine by me. I dropped my voice and jerked the revolver out of Frank’s craw.

He gasped. “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?!”

“Where’s Rocco?” I demanded. He blinked, too stunned or drunk to speak. Maybe I’d let our drinking game go on a little too long. I repeated myself more slowly. “Where is Rocco?”

No answer. I cocked the hammer with my thumb. The eyes bulged out of Frank’s head. I couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the poor guy. I wasn’t going to kill him. Every bullet I had was strictly reserved for Rocco Durant.

Of course, I wasn’t about to tell Frank that. I let him gape on the floor. He’d stopped trying to fight me off thankfully. Maybe we could get along after all. Under different circumstances anyway. At the moment, not a single asshole in that shitty dive was a friend.

The sound of a door opening caused a tense silence to fall over the bar. Frank’s popping eyes tracked to the left, and I followed his miserable gaze. A man built like a brick shithouse entered the bar flanked by four goons, two on each side. The scar on his sneering mug cut through one icy eye. It wasn’t white like scars were in the movies. It was red and nasty.

Our eyes locked. His narrowed at me. The crowd between us cleared as if the entire moment had been choreographed beforehand.

And who was I to give fate the middle finger?

I raised my revolver and pulled the trigger.

Chapter Two

I’d be the first to admit I wasn’t the world’s best sharpshooter, but I could move like a fucking champ in stilettos while fighting. I had to get points for that.

Growing up in New York, my dad didn’t take me out on hunting trips, but I had a natural feel for guns—at least enough to make who I was shooting at take notice. The first bullet embedded itself in the wall just wide of Rocco Durant’s goons on the left, puffing out dust from the cheap plaster.

Time in the bar slowed down for a few seconds, but as soon as the shock had worn off, all hell broke loose. I had to scramble off of Frank to keep from being trampled to death by the herd of terrified patrons making for the door. I raised my arm and fired again.

“Shit!” a goon hollered. “Get him out of here! Go! Go!”

The bodyguards closed around Rocco and began to usher him toward a door in the far corner of the bar’s back wall. I got up on my knees, clamped both hands on the revolver’s grip, and took aim. My last shot zinged off the doorway just before the door slammed shut.

It was my turn to swear. “Shit.”

A moment later, I had the breath squeezed out of me by a lunkhead who thought it was a good idea to grab for my waist. “Gimme the gun, princess!”

“Fat chance, beefcake.”

There were still three bullets left, but I wasn’t going to waste them on him. My hand shot out along the floor and grabbed the first thing it found—a heavy pint glass that had somehow survived first contact with the floor.

Perfect.

I swung it up in a vicious arc, and it felt like it broke his jaw. He hunched over howling and staggered away from me. I bolted for the door. If I could get out fast enough, I might be able to intercept my real target.

Focused on catching Durant, I barely even noticed other people had started shooting. A bullet dug a gouge in the floor next to my heel.

My initial reaction was to frown in disgust. What a terrible shot. What the hell was he aiming at? And why did they allow heat in the bar? Why was I surprised? Of course, these people brought their guns. If I had a revolver, they had full-blown assault rifles hidden up their asses. Sure enough, the rattling report of an automatic shook the air.

All the more reason for me to get the hell out of Dodge.

I burst through the exit and into the cold night. My stiletto-heeled boots sounded like firecrackers on the sidewalk as I ran around the side of the building. Who cared if he heard me coming? I’d already taken three shots at his ass and missed every single one. Granted, I suspected I’d be in a lot more trouble if I had managed to kill Rocco then and there. But I was prepared to toss caution to the wind. I’d waited too long not to.

After five years of hunting him, I should have known better. But my mom had always said I was stubborn as a mule. Thankfully, I didn’t look like one. At least, not most days.

She’d said it for the last time the morning she was gunned down behind the counter of the check-cashing business she’d run with my dad for twenty years. The cops found her sprawled on her back, riddled with bullets, the flowers on her dress soaked in blood.

Daddy was half in the open safe. Glasses broken. A single shot in the head.

I reached up to rub the ache in my chest. Time was supposed to heal all wounds, but the unruly bitch was taking, well, her time.

My folks were wonderful, amazing people who had never hurt a fly, who took spiders outside instead of smashing them like I did, and they’d been killed and left to rot. And the next night, the business they’d built from love and determination went up in a blaze of smoke.

Just because they wouldn’t fold to Rocco Durant’s boss. Fury swam in my belly but settled quickly. I’d spend most of my anger on the search for their killer. Now, it was about justice.

No one ever said who it was, but I knew Rocco was the gunman, and I had no reason to believe he wasn’t the arsonist, too. I had seen him and his cronies lurking around the storefront at least three times a week, and sometimes, my dad would pick up the business phone, listen for a few minutes, and slam it down.

Rocco was like Frank back then, anonymous, just one of many lowlife thugs looking for a way to climb the ranks.

They threatened Daddy, they threatened my mom, and I was sure they threatened me, though the cowards never said it to my face. Maybe because I was young or a girl. Fuck… I hoped it was the former. I’d hate to put a lovely red high heel in someone’s windpipe to prove a point.

I pushed my thoughts away and rounded the corner of the alleyway, spotting Rocco’s posse running across the dilapidated lot. He usually traveled in a blacked-out SUV, but there was no sign of it. I guessed he hadn’t been expecting trouble tonight, and I allowed myself to feel the tiniest spark of pride for managing to get the drop on him. Sure, it had all gone south right from the get-go, but I had to take my accomplishments as they came. Leaning forward into my run, I pumped my legs furiously.

Damn the sound of my heels clicking like a ticking time bomb. Stealth was lost on me a long time ago too.

One of the goons looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened and his gun barked. I ducked as one bullet, then another, zinged over my shoulder. Two inches from my right foot, the broken asphalt exploded into a cloud of dust. I kept going.

What the hell is up with people trying to take out my damn shoes tonight? Jealous much?

The flicker of fear I saw in his expression fed something deep inside me. I had never been as compassionate as either of my parents, but what little warmth I had died with them. My goal was to make Rocco Durant suffer and to rid the earth of his taint. Well, not really his taint taint, but the stench of guys like him. Someone had to take him out. That was me—if I could keep my mind out of the gutter.

Taint is such a gross word.

I forced my laughter down and kept after my pursuit. Jail was too good for these assholes. They had to deal with me instead, and mercy wasn’t a friend of mine.

The alleyway opened on a side street that the mobsters clearly expected to be deserted because they sprinted into the middle of the road, straight into the path of an oncoming car. Their wild, defensive gunfire faded, and the blare of the horn reverberated through my head. Another bullet sang past my ear. Their faces were pasty in the headlights.

The sedan veered to the left, beams flashing across me, and I squeezed my eyes down to slits against the sudden glare. Over the squeal of the tires, I heard a muffled thump.

My heart leapt into my throat. Had Rocco been hit? It wouldn’t be the same as cutting him down on my own, but I was still perfectly willing to execute the wounded. I would still consider that justice.

Maybe a mercy killing would be better for my nightmares, but something inside of me disagreed.

As for the witness in the car? They’d split as soon as they saw the gun, just like they did in the movies.

Focus. Jeez.

Nearing the narrow intersection, I saw that the victim wasn’t Rocco after all. The idiot who had led the pack directly into harm’s way was the one to reap karma’s just rewards. His cohorts held him up, and he hobbled painfully, perched birdlike on one leg. All four of them caught sight of me and turned to look at their fearless leader.

Rocco brushed dust from a charcoal suit that was much nicer than the ones worn by his underlings. He sneered as the car backed up and roared between us. A cloud of dirty exhaust choked my vision, but I could still hear the boss’s voice, smooth and dripping with arrogance.

“Let it go,” he told his goons. “You take care of Vincent, you understand me? Bring him to the safehouse, and don’t you dare leave him. Now get out of here. I’ll handle the sexy ass broad.”

Adrenaline pounded through my veins. I loved a good fight. That and Cheetos, but there wasn’t a convenience store in sight, and someone needed a good ass kicking.

Never in my wildest murder-dreams had I envisioned a one-on-one confrontation with the man I’d been preparing myself to face for five long years. I barely remembered who I was before Rocco Durant shit all over my life. And here he was, practically offering himself up like a sacrificial lamb.

The moment the smoke cleared, I was staring into the black eye of his gun. He smirked as he cocked the hammer.

“You made a bad mistake, little girl.”

“Define little. We talking the size of your bank roll or more like the size of your—”

His laugh cut me off. It was dark, nasty. Just like him.

I drew my revolver faster than I’d ever done anything in my life. The shot went wide, but not that wide. Not enough to kill the bastard, but enough to make him miss. Ears ringing, I saw his ugly mug scrunch up. The familiar wash of approaching headlights illuminated him and the street around him.

Then he hauled ass. Rocco Durant rabbited on me. I should have known, though. They were all the same: tough on the outside, nothing underneath. What a dress-wearing puss.

Gritting my teeth, I gave chase again. These heels weren’t meant for running, and I’d put the damn things to the test far past my tolerance. My whole body hurt, but there was no way I could give up a chance like that. Besides, Rocco couldn’t last forever. He had aged poorly since my parents’ deaths, and he hadn’t been young to begin with. Sooner or later, he’d run out of steam.

“It’s a dead end, Rocco!” I yelled. Not a good idea. I needed all the breath I had if I wanted to keep running. Part of me wanted to rip my shoes off, but it would give him a few extra, valuable seconds, and going barefoot in that neighborhood was just asking for trouble. The last thing I needed was broken glass lodged in my foot. Eww… I hated feet. Even my own.

I ignored the pain and kept plugging away, focusing on maintaining my considerable momentum. I hadn’t told a lie; it was a dead end. The crumbling brick wall loomed up ahead.

If Rocco was playing some screwed-up game of chicken, his ugly ass was going to lose and badly.

He shot off to the right so fast I almost didn’t see his shadow disappearing into what appeared to be a secret passage. I skidded to a stop, cursing a blue streak. The space where he’d squeezed himself through was barely wide enough for a guy his size to fit; I was almost impressed he could move so quickly.

“One more donut or an extra chocolate muffin, and you’d be stuck like chuck, buddy,” I called out, trying not to laugh at myself. The moment was too serious for the humor flowing through me, but it was a defense mechanism. One I used perhaps a bit too much.

I forced myself to refocus again and threw myself after him. The walls seemed to close in all at once, grimy and full of mildew. I didn’t risk looking anywhere other than forward, but I thought I saw pipes crossing over my head.

Where the hell were we? And where were we going?

There was one great benefit of having a single goal, so all-consuming that I couldn’t even dream of doing something else. I had a lot of time to think about it. So, I slipped into a familiar headspace as I ran after Rocco Durant down a slot carved between two buildings.

I was twenty-three again, brimming with pure devastation and compressing a flood of angry tears down into a concentrated form of hatred. Making Rocco understand what he’d done was a lost cause. It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t grasp the anguish I felt when I was told the cops couldn’t and wouldn’t do anything about my parents’ murders.

While Rocco and his boys paid every corrupt officer in the borough to turn a blind eye, I funneled my family’s savings into lawyers’ fees. I had been willing to give anything to bring Rocco to justice. The insurance money. The house. The heirlooms I pawned all over the city.

Anything. Everything.

But nothing worked. There was no hard evidence, they said. Nothing beyond a reasonable doubt. My parents’ murders were done by a professional who didn’t leave a trace.

I was left with little cash, alone in a city that didn’t give a shit about me. I had no choice but to take justice into my own hands. Back then, I didn’t know how bloody justice could be, but I learned. I adapted.

Now, I was more than ready to bring the hammer down.

Up ahead, Durant broke free of the crude alley, and I smelled an acrid tinge of saltwater. The docks. My instincts kicked into overdrive. Whatever his crazy plan was, I had to stop him from going through with it and getting away. I wouldn’t put it past the scumbag to jump straight in the water, and if he did that, I’d lose everything I’d spent the past half a decade trying to accomplish.

That wasn’t going to happen. My fingers found the curve of the revolver grip. I yanked it out of the holster. It was a long shot but worth it if it landed. I took a moment, breathed, then squeezed the trigger.

The gun bucked, and the report left my ears ringing again. I saw Rocco Durant’s stride falter.

Yes!

He twisted around and fired back at me. A chunk flew out of the wall a few feet ahead of me. Close, but not close enough. At least it wasn’t at my damn feet again.

I didn’t flinch as I moved toward him. The hunt was everything, and I would not be dissuaded. If he killed me, I’d come back as a damn ghost and haunt the shit out of him for the rest of his life. That was how determined I was to make this awful prick pay for what he did. Was it more than he deserved?

Absolutely not. He deserved all that and more.

By the time I got down to the river, Durant was hobbling. His left pant leg wet with blood. The lights of the Brooklyn Bridge and the New York skyline lit him up from behind. I leveled the gun and shot again, hitting him square in the shoulder. He let out a harsh bark of pain—music to my ears.

Rocco Durant’s suffering had only just begun.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “My ankle. My damned ankle!”

He dropped to one knee as I approached, and then he fell a few feet shy of the end of a pier. Grit and mud stained that expensive charcoal suit. He pushed toward the gray water with his good foot, until I came up and stepped on it, grinding the point of my heel on the bone.

An odd moment flashed before my eyes. My mom and dad would be in shock over my quest for justice. They would never approve, and some part of me wished like hell that I could force the need for it out of my veins, but I couldn’t. This wasn’t just about them anymore. It was about everyone without a voice.

I’d be the voice. I’d give this son of a bitch what was coming to him, making sure no one else’s parents died at his hands. I couldn’t bring my family back, but I could stop Rocco from spreading more death into the world. I wanted to clean up the streets, and it would start with the asshole who took my life without blinking an eye. It had to.

He held up his hands. “All right! Shit, that hurts. For a chick, you sure got some balls, you know that?”

“I was forced to grow a pair.” I flicked out the revolver’s chamber, spun it, and locked it in again. There was one bullet left, and I had a pretty good idea of where it should go. The space between Rocco Durant’s eyes looked like prime real estate to me.

I pointed the steel muzzle at his face.

“Listen.” He licked his lips nervously. Sweat beaded on his thick, wide brow. Even prone, he was huge, and his chest heaved. He fumbled for enough breath to form the right words. I’d been right about him; he was getting old. “Listen. We can cut a deal, you and me. How much do you want? I’ve got everything. Just tell me what you want.”

A sick smile formed on his lips. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, which were still as hard as the first time I saw him in the bar. “I can make your dreams come true, girlie. Vacation house? Luxury car? Enough money that you’ll never have to think about working again? Lay it on me. I’ll make it happen.”

I clenched my jaw. Listening to him attempt to bargain for his life only grated on my nerves. As if he could buy his way out after all the ways he had torn my life to shreds.

“You know what I want,” I said, cocking the hammer with my thumb. “And I’m about to get it.”

Rocco Durant laughed. He laughed so hard his body curled in on itself where he lay. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. “Is that what you think talking tough sounds like? I guess I ain’t surprised. Your parents were soft targets. Especially your pops.” He wiped his hand across his face and grinned at me. “Oh, you think I didn’t recognize you? You got a nice, tight shape, just like your mom. How could I not?”

I froze. The hand holding the gun shook with a touch of fear mixed with a building rage. Suddenly, I couldn’t seem to muster the strength to pull the trigger. It was like being frozen in the middle of a raging wildfire, a deer in the headlights. Every ounce of my being screamed to kill the worthless piece of human garbage laid out before me, and yet, the mention of my parents had me transfixed.

“Shut your filthy mouth. Don’t you dare say a thing about her.” The voice that left me did not sound like my own. It was a feral growl, the snarl of a wild beast. I felt myself teetering on the brink of something vast and searing.

“You know what she said to me that day?” Rocco asked. His tone was maddeningly conversational, like we were old friends reminiscing. “She told me to go to hell.” The smile on his mouth turned cruel. “I said I’d be happy to take her with me to keep me company. I like to snuggle at night. She would have worked just fine.”

I’d meant to keep my cool, but it was more than I could take. I shoved the barrel of the gun up against his forehead. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, Rocco.”

My trigger finger trembled. He glared up at me, defiant, but then his gaze shifted abruptly. His eyes widened as they focused somewhere over my head. I sensed a deep shadow descending.

I didn’t have time for more than a quick glance over my shoulder. A flash of gold and the looming shape of something both large and seemingly on fire blotted out the whole skyline across the river with its brightness. New York’s sorry crop of stars had nothing on this monster.

It was heading straight for us.

I had to laugh. Hadn’t I seen this in every disaster movie ever made? It looked like the end of the world. But instead of fire and brimstone, the world was washed away by pure golden light.

You gotta be fucking kidding me.

Chapter Three

When I opened my eyes, it was clear the world hadn’t ended. The sky had regained its polluted dull gray, and I could feel the wet of the pier pressing into my skin.

I was alive—and so was Rocco Durant.

So much for wishing on stars and shit.

The wounded thug was struggling to stand, the blood on his clothing half dry. He looked like death, but that didn’t keep him from making a break toward the alley.

“Hey!” I jumped to my feet, ignoring the way the world rocked unsteadily. I leaned in to bolt after him for the third or fourth time that evening, but something in the water caught my eye. I turned, convinced it was a trick of sight, but no—it was real.

There was a guy in the water.

He didn’t float for long. As I watched, his body began to slip below the surface. The dark water climbed up over his chin and then his nose.

I glanced at Rocco, still shambling toward freedom, and back at the sinking stranger. It was impossible to describe how utterly torn I felt.

On one hand, the revenge I had dreamed about for the past five years was escaping from under my nose. On the other, it was pretty clear that if I didn’t do something, this stranger was going to drown. The decision had to be made quickly.

I raised my gun. Maybe I could get off one last, lucky shot.

No. The thought hit me so hard it was like it had come from someone else. Don’t waste that bullet. Save it, and save that man.

“Dammit to hell,” I mumbled and ran toward the edge of the dock, pushing off with both feet, and catapulting myself into the dark depths.

The shock of the cold forced all the air from my lungs. I had to fight not to inhale the water as my mouth opened in a silent scream. My eyes were freezing in their sockets, but closing them was an impossibility. Down below, something shimmered in the blackness. I swam toward it. I wasn’t sure how far down I went, but the moment I discerned the shape of his body, I reached out, grabbed him, and pulled with all my might.

One hand wasn’t enough, despite his current weightlessness. I slung his limp arm over my shoulder and towed him to the surface. My legs burned from kicking. The stiletto boots weighed down my feet, and I regretted wearing them, but taking a dip in the river hadn’t made it onto my to-do list.

I came up not too far from the dock, and on my way over to its solid surface, I racked my brain to come up with a plan for lifting the guy out of the water. I had to get him warm and dry fast, which seemed like a problem. I was no weakling, but this guy was heavy as shit.

“Dammit to hell, you better be alive,” I muttered, spitting water. “I’m not carrying your corpse anywhere. I’d don’t get paid for this shit, and my feet hurt!”

Once we reached the pier, I treaded water for a moment, considering my options. I could do a Hail Mary heave and hope he’d stay put while I got myself out, or I could scramble onto the concrete first and hope he didn’t sink too far to recover. Neither seemed like a good choice.

I wasn’t prepared for this. Denying my mom’s suggestion to join the Girl Scouts seemed like a rather shitty choice at the moment. She had been right. It would have helped me out in life. Like now.

Holding on to the edge of the dock with one hand, I maneuvered the guy’s arm so that it rested flat on the surface, but I couldn’t get him to stop sliding back into the water. He was dead weight, and I didn’t have a buoy to hold him up.

My fingers and toes were going numb, I’d swallowed more river water than I cared to think about, and the whole treading-water situation was not going to last forever.

“Shit burgers,” I mumbled and chose the hidden third option, which was to pull him the long way down the length of the dock to the actual shoreline. The moment I could stand, I gripped him under the arms and started tugging and pulling as best I could.

He made a weird metallic rattling in the shallows. I looked down to see that half the reason he weighed so damned much was because he was wearing armor. Not the modern, bulletproof kind, either. This was the kind with plates and chainmail. I frowned. Had I just fished a cosplayer out of the river?

Even hardcore fanboys deserved to be saved. Maybe. Sometimes.

He was older than I first thought. Shocks of gray ran through his dripping hair, and the lines around his eyes and mouth were deep, or at least, I suspected they would be if he were warm and dry. It was tough to tell anything meaningful about him while his skin was so pale and drawn.

At his side, something glowed—the thing that had allowed me to find him in the first place. I knelt down to get a better look. It appeared to be some kind of handle, about as long as my forearm and heavy. There was real damage potential there, but I could tell it was missing something.

Even out of the water, it glowed from within like live embers. It was definitely the strangest shit I’d seen in a while, and I’d seen a lot of strange.

“You gotta find her now!” a voice called out.

My head snapped up as I realized how close the voice was. Half-dead dress-up boy beneath me might have to wakey-wakey all on his own.

“We’re gonna take care of this bitch for the boss,” the same gruff voice said. “And then we’re gonna live like kings.”

I crouched down beside the still-motionless body of the man I rescued, feeling for the shape of my revolver against my thigh. All I felt was the holster. A white-hot bolt of panic ran through me as I dropped my gaze to find it empty. The gun was probably half buried in the mud at the river bottom by now.

“Shit,” I whispered. Once didn’t seem like enough. “No, no, no. Shit!”

The second curse pierced the air a little louder than I intended, and a goon turned in my direction.

“Shut up you idiots,” he called. “I think I heard something.”

He rounded the posts at the base of the pier and got an eyeful of me, hunkered down by what appeared to be a corpse, my clothes heavy with moisture.

“Well, well,” he said. An oily smirk spread across his ratty features. “Look what the cat dragged in.” He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The others seemed to materialize out of thin air. “Ain’t this a fine how-do-you-do? Fancy meeting you all the way out here.”

“Cats don’t swim,” I responded, trying to sound calm. “They usually get real bitchy about water and fur.” I moved my hands down my body, like I was explaining myself to a kid. “No? Not with me? Hmm… not surprised right now.”

Ugh. How had this gone south so badly, and who was the guy I’d saved? Some part of me wondered if he was worth it. If he were already dead, then my answer was clear, but if I could save him…

I needed them to come closer. Rocco and his boys needed to stop talking and pick a fight already. All my nerve endings hummed with adrenaline as I got back into the right headspace. My heartbeat throbbed in my ears and throat. For the first time, I began to dread that this might truly be the end of the line.

That didn’t mean I was done fighting, though. Far from it. But I needed a better weapon than my fists.

“What’s the matter, sweet cheeks? Cat got your tongue?” The three of them advanced on me.

This idiot must have a cat at home. That or a limited vocabulary to choose from. His momma should have made him read a book now and again.

I cleared my thoughts and glared at the guy who’d spoken, a skinny dude shaped like a pencil. “What is it with you assholes and cats? Are you so obsessed with pussy because you don’t get any?” Despite the brave retort, fear crept unbidden into the back of my throat. I heard my voice tremble just a little bit, and I knew they heard it, too.

They were all smiling now, leering. Pencil-Dick put a hand in his pocket. My mind raced to predict what he would pull out. A knife? A gun? Zip-ties and a blindfold? The fact that I couldn’t rule out the last option made my stomach absolutely crawl.

“Don’t worry, princess.” He spoke in a grotesque caricature of a soothing tone. “We won’t kill you right away. First, we’re gonna have some real fun. Do a number on that pretty kitty, you get me?”

“Pretty kitty? You kiss your momma with that mouth?” I forced the words from my mouth, trying to regain my composure.

Vomit threatened my throat, but I choked it back. No more distance could be put between me and the tight semicircle of mob sharks. The water lapped at my back. Again, I glanced around, searching for something to defend myself with. The glow of the peculiar handle drew my eyes. I grasped it and tugged it loose from the stranger’s belt.

Sorry, guy. A girl’s gotta stay alive somehow. They’re after my kitty!

The goon triplets took another step closer. Now armed, I raised the glowing object above my head, pleased to note that it did indeed have a substantial amount of heft. It gave them pause for approximately half a second before they burst out laughing.

“What’s that?” Pencil-Dick demanded between guffaws. “Your participation trophy for a job half-finished?” He elbowed his buddies.

He was evidently the comedian of the group because their amusement doubled.

I scowled. “Let’s see how far I can shove this participation trophy up your ass. Light you up like a Christmas tree. We’ll all gather hands and sing a few carols around your butt-fucked corpse.” I laughed and wagged my eyebrows. They didn’t laugh back.

Pencil-Dick’s hand gripped something inside his pocket. He started to withdraw it. The glint of metal peeked between his fingers. I thought I was going to die.

Then, I went blind.

It only lasted a second, but the flash was bright enough to wash out everything white. The handle vibrated against my palm, and I looked up.

A sword.

The thing was a damn sword!

Its blade was shining and golden—the kind of thing someone expected to see getting pulled from a stone in fairytales—but it was real. I could feel its dangerous mass just waiting at the end of my reach.

How much force would it take to drive this through something or someone? Not much, I guessed.

The mob grunts stared, their mouths hanging open and their slack faces bathed in yellow light.

“Do you see this shit?” one of them asked no one in particular.

Skin-and-bones glowered. “Hell yeah, I see it, and I don’t like it.” He lifted his hand to reveal a stubby silver pistol.

Now or never.

I swung the sword downward. Less than halfway through the arc, gravity took over, and the thing stuck in the ground. I might have stared dumbstruck at it forever if it weren’t for the guy screaming. Drops of something dark splattered down around the embedded point of the blade. Blood. Shortly thereafter, I realized he was missing the hand that held the gun.

Brutal but efficient. Maybe costume party guy wasn’t exactly a “hole up in his room and get lost in video games” kind of motherfucker? No, not packing this kind of heat.

The goon to my left made a move to close in on me. I freed the sword from the dirt and ran it through his stomach. He made a muted choking sound. Red trickled, then ran, from his mouth. On its way out, the gleaming blade sliced cleanly from his gut up through his shoulder. I watched the body fall in pieces, and I felt nothing beyond a dull satisfaction mixed with white-hot relief.

These guys weren’t Rocco, but they would do for the time being.

It was Pencil-Dick’s turn to crouch, trembling, as his friend attempted to help him stem the bleeding from his brand-new stump. I drew back and let the sword draw a golden curve in the air, straight through his friend’s neck. His head rolled off into the shadows. Pencil-Dick whimpered.

The momentum from that swing carried me through into a spin, and on the return, I cleaved him more or less in half at the waist. I hardly saw him die.

I stumbled a little, caught off guard by the weight of the weapon in my hand. A hush descended on the deserted pier. The moon shone down on me, surrounded by three bodies—four, counting the dude from the river—and holding a sword that was clearly beyond my understanding. My eyes went from the golden blade to the sliced-up goons to the drenched old man, in that order.

“You just can’t make this shit up.”

There was no time to ponder on what the hell had happened because whatever I had stumbled onto, it wasn’t done with me yet.

Three dead men lay before me, and a fourth was quickly on his way. I needed to get far away from there, and leaving the old man wasn’t an option. Saving him from drowning just to let him die wasn’t in my nature. My mom would have been so proud.

I leaned in and struggled to drag his waterlogged, armor-clad half corpse toward the relative safety of the street. That safety disappeared as the growling of an engine met my ears.

“Those little pricks just can’t resist me, can they?” I muttered. My cargo shifted his weight, nearly throwing me to the ground. “Hey, watch it!”

His head fell to the side, eyelids fluttering. The engine drew nearer. It was circling, no doubt a driver looking for his three partners, who were now resting in pieces around the pier. Sooner or later, he would find us instead. I adjusted my grip in the stranger’s armpits and pulled him as fast as I could. “Work with me here. We’re running the hell out of time!”

Incoherent mumbling was his only answer. Good. At least he was alive.

I wasn’t shit out of luck just yet it would seem. There was a junked-out beater at the curb, its edges dark with rust. If it wasn’t already abandoned, no one was gonna miss that thing. I redoubled my efforts, the drone of that circling engine humming in my ear. The car—our salvation—inched closer.

Three feet from the driver’s side door, I realized I was out of time. Dumping the stranger as gently as I could in a wet heap on the gravel that covered him, I bolted to the car and yanked on the handle. The door stuck for a moment before bursting open in a rain of rust and paint chips. Wires already hung exposed from the underside of the steering column like a gift from the Grand Theft Auto angels.

“Now who’s talking about joining the girl scouts,” I grumbled. Years of video games would pay off.

I was hunched over in the front seat when the prowling driver finally discovered us. Just as the beater sputtered to life, someone’s feet hit the ground outside.

“Hey, you!”

I jerked my head up, all ready to let the asshole know he’d chosen the wrong chick to screw with that night. But he wasn’t talking to me.

“Holy shitballs,” I whispered. The dude in the armor stood dripping in the spot I’d left him. He loomed head and shoulders over the thugs who were piling out of the car. I hadn’t noticed his mean-ass spear before, but I damn sure saw it now.

It looked a lot more menacing in his hands than it should have, crazy getup and all.

He swung the point so fast that it appeared fake, except its trail was laced with blood. My jaw dropped open as the spear danced through the air. It looked so simple—nothing more than a fancy stick with an arrow on the end—but it did some serious work. The man in the armor made death look a little like art; almost beautiful, if no less cruel.

By the time I snapped out of it and realized he was actually committing murder, one of the thugs lay crumpled in a widening pool of his own blood. I tried to keep my eyes from fixating on the place in his throat where the spear gouged. My heart pounded wildly. I’d just gone from perpetrator to witness in the span of ten minutes. And I didn’t like that shit at all.

“Hey, Spartacus!” I called out as I lifted a prayer to anything or anyone that would listen. Hopefully, Ironman would be friendly with his savior. My throat was dry. “We gotta split. Come on!” The dude dragged his spear out of the last goon’s chest and started toward me. After two steps, he faltered. After three, he was back on the ground.

Two human beings cut down like blades of grass, and he couldn’t last a minute when it counted the most.

Freaking men. I’d have hated to see him in bed.

Chapter Four

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” I muttered over and over again, my curses barely audible over the car’s engine.

I drove down a side street in the shitty Buick that I hotwired on the curb with the half-drowned stranger shoved in the backseat. It had been a bitch and a half to get him all packed in, but grit carried me through in the end. Like tucking a fat guy into a little coat.

He had folded like a paper crane, and one good hard hip to the door closed it, but I couldn’t afford to care. It was what it was.

The guy had just knocked off two people like he was out for a walk in the park, and he wouldn’t remember any of it anyway. If he did, I’d just apologize, and hopefully not get my ass handed to me in the process.

Assuming he woke up.

The thought of him dead in the backseat filled me with momentary panic, even though he was breathing and had a pulse. If I had the option, I might have taken him to a hospital, or maybe I would have called the cops. But those were privileges for a normal person with a normal life.

Not for me. Never for me.

I didn’t trust a single New York cop as far as I could throw him. They hadn’t done shit when my parents died; they wouldn’t do shit now either. And the hospital staff would trip over themselves to call them as soon as they got a load of my date to the Greek masquerade ball that I wouldn’t be attending.

I snorted. I danced like shit anyway.

For better or worse, I was his only hope right now. I didn’t want the burden of responsibility, but I also couldn’t fathom just tossing him in the street, most likely to die alone. I had already saved him from drowning. The least I could do was try to get him back on his feet. Then, maybe he could fill me in on the whole sword thing. That would be nice.

Probably a snow ball’s chance in hell but still a nice hypothetical of sorts.

We just needed to get the hell away from the dock before someone else happened along. With the way my luck was going, it was inevitable. Hence, the stolen car.

My particular set of skills didn’t necessarily make me proud, but when forced to survive on nothing but wit, you have to make some moral compromises.

Good and evil had a way of becoming malleable in the moment. Two sides to a dented coin that never flipped quite right.

I stopped the car in front of my building. I would have ditched it much farther away from my place, but he was too damn heavy, and I was too tired to drag him anywhere. Leaving him to sleep it off in the car was a temporary option, but one I passed on.

“Screw it,” I mumbled and got out of the car. After extracting him from the backseat, I moved out of the way and let his legs hit the ground kind of hard. I winced, then figured the armor would curb the worst of the damage. If it’s real.

We had four flights of stairs to conquer, which was going to suck like a brand-new vacuum cleaner. He was a man-sized dead weight, wrapped in chains, and I had to drag him up steep-ass staircases with loose railings.

The night just kept getting better and better. Yay me!

I dropped him a few times, and on the fourth floor, his head thumped against the landing. I winced at the sound.

“God, I hope you don’t remember this.” He didn’t move. “I hope like hell you’re not dead, Mister. I apologize that I didn’t spend more time working out, because hot damn, you’re like a sack of rocks right now.”

I propped him up against the wall next to my door and wiped my brow with the back of my hand. Panting was a mild understatement.

“I know I just killed some guys, but did I deserve to drag three hundred pounds all the way up to my door? I’m not so sure.”

His head slipped to the side as I hauled him over the threshold. He lay in the middle of the floor while I secured all the locks and walked around my apartment shedding light on things. The wiring in the building was dodgy at best, but I’d long since gotten used to the flickering.

Couldn’t deny it beat sleeping on the street. Sometimes.

“Depends on the street,” I muttered.

After the workout on the stairs, getting the guy situated on my mattress was a piece of cake. I arranged his limbs deliberately so that he did not look like a body in a coffin, and then I examined his armor. I knocked on the plate with my knuckles, as if the weight wasn’t enough proof that it was real metal.

“Where the hell are you from? And why are you dressed like this?” I decided I would help him, if for no other reason than to learn the answers to those two questions.

The armor came off in pieces. I laid it carefully on the floor. Underneath it, the stranger was almost shockingly well-built for a guy who looked like he could be a grandfather—a younger grandfather, but still, definitely older guy material.

Was he someone’s Papa? Yet another mystery, and one that wasn’t a damn bit of my business.

I was soon distracted by the discovery of an injury, a huge, black wound on the right side of his back. It looked like it was filled with ink. Eerie, vein-like lines spiderwebbed out from the center, wrapping around the side of his ribcage.

“I don’t think I like that,” I said to myself. I went to the tub against the far wall, wet a clean rag, and wrung it out in the basin. When I put it to his skin, some of the black stuff came away. “Well, that’s gross—”

He grabbed my hand.

I wasn’t one of those girls who screamed at everything, but that did the trick. Out of pure instinct, I seized a vodka bottle from the crate that served as my nightstand, and I brought it down on his head. He grabbed his skull with both hands, releasing me, and I jumped back, yelling in a deep, coarse voice.

“What the hell was that for!” he bellowed.

I brandished the bottle, now broken, in front of me. What a waste of a good time waiting to happen.

“Who are you?” I demanded, ignoring his question. My voice had lost a lot of its typical bravado. I’d had a long day, and I wasn’t looking forward to whatever this was.

He looked around wildly, searching for something. He almost jumped out of bed, wound and all, until his eyes landed on the golden hilt leaning up against the wall in the corner.

He took a breath, then turned to face me, flinching as his wound wrenched. “You struck me!”

More than angry, he sounded surprised, and maybe even a little agitated. Like I should have known better. The nerve.

“Because you grabbed me!” I shook the bottle at him. “Who are you?”

He shook his head, blinking. “I’m Marcus. Stop screaming, shrill little creature from the blackness of the earth. I’m from Carcerum. And you strike very hard.”

“The blackness of earth? Not sure where to go with that one, but thanks for the side compliment. I’m not screaming.” I lifted my voice and screamed like I was being stabbed in the eye.

He clasped his hands over his ears, his voice causing the floor to rumble. “Enough!”

“That was screaming.” Feeling as if I’d fully made my point, I got back to the matter at hand. “I don’t know what Carcerum is.”

“No, of course you don’t. You are…” He trailed off, taking real stock of his surroundings for the first time.

I felt slightly self-conscious about a lot of things: the bare floor that was stained and chipped in places, the exposed light fixtures, the toilet obscured by nothing but a haphazard wall of crates and corrugated cardboard. To say nothing of the punching bag in the corner that was little more than my old mattress wrapped around a pole and secured with duct tape. Or the furniture I’d clearly pulled from other people’s junk.

“What is all this?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Look, I know it’s not much, all right, but it’s all a girl from the black hole of hell can afford, so back off,” I said defensively. “I’m not in the greatest situation. I couldn’t take you to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” He looked at me with genuine bewilderment. “What do you mean by ‘the hospital?’”

I stared at him. Either I’d dropped him harder than I thought, or he was really committed to his character. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Just tell me what you’re doing here. I’ve had a rough night. And some of it is kinda your fault, so you better have a damn good explanation.” It wasn’t exactly fair to come down on the guy who’d narrowly escaped drowning an hour before, but I was exhausted and hungry and wanting to put it all behind me so I could move on.

Marcus pursed his lips, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he said, “I will tell you my story in exchange for yours.”

I rubbed my face. “Oh, come on. I’m not the one who dropped into the river out of nowhere and almost died in it. I don’t carry around a huge sword made of light or some shit. I don’t wear armor!”

He was unruffled. “What is your meaning?”

Seriously, this guy. “My meaning is that you have a ton more explaining to do than I do. And it would be cool if you could start that sometime this century, old man.” Frustrated, I got up and stalked to the old oak dresser I had painstakingly carted back from someone’s curb, not unlike the way I’d muscled Marcus’s ass up the stairs outside my place.

“Old man? I prefer wise man.” He let out a huff of regality.

“Whatever, your majesty.” I turned and grabbed a fresh set of clothes. “Turn your head and don’t look. I’m changing.”

I had no energy to bother with any more than that, so if he looked, I didn’t know, nor did I care. It felt amazing to get into something dry—grey sweats and a well-worn tank. Comfort clothes. My mood automatically lifted about ten notches. I’d save my unicorn pajama pants for more of a private moment. Tin man would never understand.

He was facing away from me when I turned around.

“So?” I asked.

He glanced over his shoulder. “An exchange of information seems fair under these circumstances,” he responded as he turned slowly to face me.

Another question for the ages: Why the hell did he talk like that?

“In other words, you won’t say jack unless I feed you something first.”

He nodded. “My body does require occasional sustenance.”

“What? That’s not what I meant. Ugh.” I threw my hands up. “Fine. Whatever. My name’s Vic. Five years ago, this rotten scumsucker killed my parents, and I’ve been looking for him ever since. As a matter of fact, I found him tonight, and I would have killed him if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Ah.” He nodded in understanding. “A quest of vengeance.”

My turn to lift an eyebrow. “Well, I think of it more as justice.” I sat down in front of the mattress with my legs crossed. “Your turn.”

“Sometimes they’re the same thing,” he said almost sadly. “And vengeance never helps.”

“Uh huh, your turn, Socrates,” I said. No way was this guy going to play my therapist. With my luck, I’d get billed double thanks to his shiny getup. We stared one another down until his expression slackened. Thankfully, he seemed to get the message.

He stretched out, flexing his fingers, and then stopped short, patting himself down for something. “My flask,” he said. A note of urgency entered his voice. “Where is it?”

Anxiety raced up my spine. I turned and moved to my knees before pawing through the armor lying on the floor behind me. It was on the belt next to where I had found the sword, which was now just a hilt again.

I didn’t let myself think about it. Nor did I let myself think about the mysterious golden meteorite that appeared right before this guy showed up in the river.

The flask was ornately carved and small, but it was surprisingly heavy in my hand. I gave it to him. Marcus nodded his thanks. He took a deep draught. “Better. Now, I am ready to speak.”

I wasn’t focused on his face anymore. The wound in his back had just shrunk, its tendrils receding before my eyes. When I brought my attention back to his features, his hair was unmistakably darker and a bit longer, as well. The lines around his mouth and eyes didn’t cut as deeply into his face.

What. The. Fuck.

I blinked. The man I had assumed to be at least middle aged, if not older, had just dropped twenty years in a matter of a few seconds.

“What just happened?” I gestured around my own face. “What the actual hell just happened here?”

Instead of answering, he simply raised his flask a bit. I stared at it and then stared at him. I found myself at a total loss for words. Maybe the hunt for Rocco had taken a greater toll on me than I thought. Maybe I was finally cracking up.

Damn me for breaking the bottle of liquor. Would have been a fine time for a memory stealing agent to steal my memory. I snorted at the thought.

“I just healed myself.”

“Okay,” I said. “I mean, okay.”

He arched his eyebrows. “You are an odd one. Now, are you ready to listen?”

“Yes.” I rested my chin in my hand. Maybe his story would help me feel less crazy. If nothing else, it would be damn entertaining. Not like I could afford cable. This was going to rock. Sort of. Maybe. Probably not. “Go for it.”

“As you wish,” he said, his lips lifting in a slight smile. “I will tell you everything then.”

Great. Too bad I don’t have any popcorn.

Chapter Five

“Many millennia ago, it was not just humans who roamed this world. There were gods among you, and monsters, and some who were both. Humanity was enslaved by these gods, used as workhorses and playthings. The toll on human civilization was staggering.”

I ran a hand through my hair, fighting an odd weariness from the corners of my mind. “Really? That isn’t what I learned in Sunday school.”

Rather than laughing, Marcus looked confused. “You have most likely learned a world’s worth of inaccuracies about the higher beings, but I assure you that your legends are but a shadow of truth. Inaccuracy and ignorance abounds here.”

“Thank you?” I mumbled and pursed my lips at the look I was awarded.

He took a second to gather himself, then pressed on. “The gods were insatiable in their lust for power and impatient in their dealings with one another. A great many wars were fought, won, and lost among them, all in the name of this petty squabbling. Some of them centered around the humans’ place in the order of things. It is ironic that these conflicts also killed your people by the millions each time. They were treated as cleanses, necessary to refresh the world and renew it for a fresh crop.”

“I’m gonna level with you here, dude,” I said. “That’s screwed up. Sounds like your gods need to reevaluate their effing priorities.”

“You are not the only one who thought this way, though it is lower level thinking,” he replied as if he hadn’t just insulted me. “Eventually, a hero rose up among the gods, defeating them and banishing them to their own kingdom, where he ruled as both king and shepherd. He believed that humanity should be left to their own devices, and that mortal men deserved a chance to weave their own fates independent of the whims of gods or other creatures. From among your ranks, he handpicked the worthiest to help him guard Carcerum so that these banished gods might not escape.”

“Okay, first, I was joking. Second, still not clear on this whole Carcerum deal.” I lifted an eyebrow. It was an incredible story so far, but also, totally unbelievable—just another crazy in the NYC. Experience taught me that it was best to just let them wear themselves out, but I was quickly losing patience.

“Carcerum was designed to be a paradise.” Marcus glanced away, looking troubled. “It turned out more like a prison.” The corners of his mouth turned suddenly downward. “King Kronin’s beliefs were good and just, but they were too idealistic. Those gods who dwelled in darkness resented his rule and forever sought to find a way back to the land of vice and exploitation. The comforts Kronin gave, though they were plentiful, could not satisfy an appetite for cruelty.”

“Mhmm. And let me guess, for twenty bucks I can buy a book that will explain the rest of the story and show me the true path to happiness and inner healing.” My capacity for humoring him was running low.

He eyed me warily. “You need no such book. I know this firsthand, for I am from Carcerum.” He spoke without a trace of dishonesty. His eyes and tone were deadly serious. I didn’t know what to think. He had to be shitting me. Except he sure didn’t look like he was.

“You?” I sighed. “So you’re not just some nutjob who likes late night swims. You’re also an angel or something. Explains the armor I guess. But I’m pretty sure I saw this in a movie once, and you’re supposed to show me what the world was like if I had never been born.”

“I’m not an angel, nor am I a… nutjob—as you say—and I am quite sure your birth and existence has had little impact upon this world. None of that matters to me. I am a warrior. Among those chosen by Kronin to safeguard the palace for all eternity. It was an honor to serve the Hero-King. The greatest of my life.”

I grimaced but sat up a little straighter. “You said ‘was.’ Explain.”

Melancholy shrouded Marcus’s face. “I did say was. It is in the past now. Kronin has been killed, and Carcerum is thrown into disarray. I fear that the gods, kept at bay for so long, are now beginning to infiltrate this world anew. Perhaps they have already done so.”

“And, what? You’re here to stop them?”

I sank back down. Stories of tragedy and loss always aroused my interest. As an orphan, I was sort of attuned to that kind of thing. It all came back to people needing a voice. I wasn’t qualified in the least, but I sure as hell felt a spark inside of me to do something, and I was willing to try.

Still, I was way less on board with the rest of his insane story. I couldn’t figure out his angle, which meant that either he was totally over the moon or he was trying to outsmart me. I wasn’t thrilled by either prospect.

His voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Yes. But I cannot hope to stop them alone. I have come to find a warrior to answer King Kronin’s call.”

And there it was. The pitch. What the hell had I gotten myself into? I did one good deed for the year, and now I had this crock of shit to sort through—on top of everything else that had gone wrong with my life so far. Helping sane humans was one thing… playing into this guy’s insanity? Not happening.

Good going, Vic. This is just what you needed.

“Look man, why don’t you just give me your pamphlet or whatever and we can say our farewells.” I looked toward the door, hoping he would take the hint.

“Kronin was killed,” Marcus said patiently. If he was getting the hint, he ignored it like a pro. He reminded me of the math tutor I had in high school. That poor kid must have walked me through the order of operations thirty times—but I just couldn’t have cared less. “This means the gods have been unleashed. His last words to me were thus: ‘Protect my people.’ So that is what I intend to do.” He leaned forward. “But in order to fulfill my duties, I need the help of a great warrior…”

Hold up. Is he talking about me? Oh, hell no. Bringing him into my house, that was my first mistake. I just had to save him from the river. Would-be murderer or not, I still had my morals. But once the guy in Roman armor was inside and on my bed, there was no way not to hear the whole spiel. I made a mental note to learn from this bizarre experience.

“Man, look. I’m sure this king of yours was really great or whatever, but I’ve got things to do. People to find. A guy to kill. Despite how that makes me sound, I’m not this warrior you’re looking for.”

Marcus opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut sharply. He stared at me for a second before a smile crept across his face. The smile cracked, and he let out a full body laugh that shook my lamp.

“What?” I demanded. “The hell is so funny?”

“No, no.” Marcus held up his hands, stifling the controlled laughter. “You are not the one I’m looking for.”

“No?” I paused just long enough for foolish pride to get the better of me. “Why the hell not?”

“Well, because.” He waved his hands toward me and then around the room. “Just look at you, and look at… this. You’re a peasant, correct? Lowly born? I need someone to avenge the greatest being to have ever lived. Someone that can lead humanity in defense against the monsters poised to devour them. I need a warrior, which you are clearly not.”

“Fuck you too, Captain Killer.” My blood heated up a degree. Why was I putting up with this shit?

For some reason, this Caesar’s Palace washout was able to cut me to the core, and by accident, no less. While he stared down in judgement upon me, I couldn’t help thinking of the true failure tonight. It had nothing to do with this man’s quest, but my own. The moment came. The one I had dreamed about for years. And instead of doing what I had sworn to do, I choked. I let that slimy rat bastard Rocco Durant slip through my clutches.

Marcus might have been insane and homeless, but he was right. I wasn’t a warrior, much less a great one.

I turned and grabbed an unfinished bottle of whiskey and took a long pull. I might have been a failure, but at least I had something to drown my sorrows in.

The soldier in my bed seemed to notice my mood change. He stopped laughing then held up a hand.

“My apologies. I should not have laughed at your numerous imperfections. You suffered a great loss tonight by choosing to save me, and for that, I am grateful. And as it turns out, I do need your help. But perhaps it would be untoward of me to rely solely on your generosity. Let me propose a trade.”

“You mean like you wanted to trade life stories? Or how about this? I go to sleep, and you get the hell out.” I tried hard to indulge in my natural instinct to be pissed at him, but for some reason, the annoyance wasn’t surfacing. There was something bizarrely endearing about the way he seemed so enveloped in his mythos. It had been awhile since I had believed in anything that fully. And besides that, he wasn’t budging from the bed.

A little smile crept over my lips. Either I was losing it too, or the liquor was working far faster than it usually did. “Fine. Let me hear it.”

He nodded. “This world has changed much more than I anticipated in the years of my absence. You may not be a warrior, but I think you would be an excellent guide.”

I laughed. “Look, no worries about tonight. As far as I see it, we’re even. But I can’t get wrapped up in whatever delusion you’re selling. I’ve got my own noble quest.”

“And in return,” he continued as if I hadn’t interrupted, “I will help you kill your villain.”

That made me stop drinking. “And how will you do that?”

“I will teach you to fight.”

For a second, my pride got the better of me again. “I know how to fight. Did pretty well for myself tonight, as a matter of fact, before you showed up.”

Marcus gave a full-bellied cynical laugh. “I’d wager luck carried you further than skill. Next time, your enemy will be waiting for you, and without proper training, you will fail. Your temperament is too rash. You speak without thinking. You act without awareness of the consequences.”

“Geeze, okay. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“But you have a good heart. I am grateful that you chose to save me at the cost of your quest. That is a debt I feel obliged to repay.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” Then I sighed and shrugged. “I can always kill Rocco another day. I can’t bring back the dead.” I inhaled sharply as I realized what I’d said. “What about that?” I indicated his injury. “Doesn’t look like you can teach anyone to fight right now.”

Now it was his turn to puff up his chest. “I was a Centurion soldier in my time, First Cohort. Then I was defender of Carcerum by King Kronin’s side. I have honed my discipline over eons, slain all manner of creature.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re big and mighty and look good in tights. Awesome, but you really should go to a hospital. Can’t have you dropping dead on me. Then I’d have to lug your big ass around some more.” My body hurt just thinking about it.

“I’ll forgive your words, and my wound is of no concern.” Marcus patted the flask resting by his hand. “I have the means to neutralize its progress.”

He had an answer for everything I threw at him. I could tell he wouldn’t easily accept rejection.

“Tell you what. Let me sleep on it, and I’ll get back to you tomorrow. Does that sound good?” Clearly, the guy was deranged, but I had seen him mow down those guys at the docks as if they were paper dolls—and he did it without a glowing sword. I almost hated to admit it, but maybe he could teach me a thing or two, and if all he needed in return was someone to show him the sights, well… that wasn’t such a bad trade.

If nothing else, life was lonely. Maybe having a reason for company wasn’t such a bad thing.

Besides, he’d get his warrior or whatever the hell he was looking for. And I’d get Rocco Durant.

But whether or not he agreed, I was going to let it go until morning. My whole head spun with everything I had seen and heard and experienced over the past few hours.

Fortunately, he was accommodating. “I find this arrangement satisfactory.” A yawn stretched his mouth wide. “And now, I must rest. Your humble hospitality is extremely appreciated, Vic.”

I hesitated. “You’re… welcome?” It surprised me that he remembered my name. I wondered if he’d still know who I was when he woke up. Part of me was still convinced that he was nothing more than a delusional homeless person I had managed to pick up during my little brush with the mob.

Despite my doubts, there were enough oddities about Marcus’s mere existence that I had a hard time completely discounting the things he said. What about the sword, or the thing that had almost fallen on me just before he appeared? Why was he so insistent that the tale he told was real? Who was the warrior he wanted to find?

I had meant to ask him all my questions before we broke for the night, but I didn’t have it in me. I gave him a blanket, and he passed out almost immediately on my bed. I retreated into the corner by the minifridge. Moonlight spilled through the single giant window onto the scarred surface of my only table.

Sitting down, I sighed and got back up to rummage in the fridge for a beer. Now that I had the chance to fall asleep, my brain wouldn’t shut down. A thousand thoughts rushed through my head at once. Behind my closed eyelids, I saw the mangled bodies of Rocco’s three underlings. Killing with a sword felt so different from killing with a gun.

It was much more personal. More intimate.

Did I want that? I didn’t know. Instead of trying to figure it out, I threw myself into the bottom of my beer bottle. After that one was gone, I got another. And another. Eventually, the torrent inside my head slowed to two alternating thoughts. This can’t be happening. This isn’t true. This can’t be happening. This isn’t true. Over and over.

My head fell back on the exposed brick. My eyes dropped closed. At long last, sleep was coming.

This can’t be happening. This isn’t true.

Down into the deep, soft dark I went before a voice whispered back in response to my chants.

Oh child, but it is…

Chapter Six

A sharp crack jolted me awake from dreams of blood and cold black water. I gasped, and my nose filled with the acrid stench of smoke. What the hell? I bolted into an upright position, immediately wide awake. Everything from my neck to the soles of my feet hurt, and it took a minute to remember why. Then it all came rushing back.

Rocco Durant. The chase.

The pier. Marcus in the river.

The sword.

None of that explained why my place stunk of smoke. I turned, searching for the source of it and was met with the sight of Marcus tending a small fire in the middle of my loft. I recognized the pieces of one of my chairs feeding the flames.

“Hey! What the ever-loving hell?”

He looked up, innocence on his face. “Greetings, Vic. How was your rest?”

I frowned extra hard at him to make sure he felt my displeasure. “Why are you burning my shit? This is a hazard on so many levels! Dammit to hell. I liked that freaking chair. It’ll be years before I find another one lying on the curb.”

Marcus glanced at the fire as if he had no idea what I was talking about. “The fire is for cooking. Was that not apparent? Are you not familiar with fire?”

“Yes, I know about fire, you caveman. And what are you cooking?” How was this my life now? I saved one weirdo, and bam, I was living in a whacked-out sitcom. “You don’t need an open fire to cook in here.”

“How else am I to do it?” he asked. His consternation was real and profound. He picked up a bundle I hadn’t noticed off the floor, and he set about unwrapping it. I heard a muffled sound.

“Wait.” I shook my head vigorously. “No, no, no. First of all, where the hell did you get a cat? And secondly, we are not eating it for breakfast. Absolutely not.”

“It was wild, and it is meat.” Marcus shrugged, giving me an odd look as if I were the one that was bat-shit crazy. “Do you not eat meat? Is this because you do not know fire?”

The cat popped its head out of the bundle. It was devastatingly cute. Unaware of how close it had come to death, it meowed again. I could not believe he’d wanted to eat a cat.

“It’s not wild, dude. It’s just a stray. It was probably someone’s pet once. Anyway, we don’t eat cats or dogs or anything like that. We just go to the store.” I grabbed a cup from amid the wreckage of last night’s beer, walked to the tub on sore feet, and filled it. The water helped to clear the sludge from my mind. “So, put that fire out before I get evicted, will you?” I pointed at the table. “I have a hot plate. We can use that.”

“I see, I think.” There was some remorse in his eyes as he regarded the cat in his lap. “I would not have captured this animal if I knew it to be a pet. Is it your pet?”

“No. I’m sure it was abandoned.” I refilled my cup. “But, like, don’t do stuff like that. And maybe don’t go outside on your own either. You don’t exactly look like a local. You’re going to call unwanted attention to us.” Seeing that it was a hopeless case, I gave up trying to explain. “I’ll take care of the food, okay? You stay here. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t set anything else on fire. And please don’t jack my stuff.”

“Jack your stuff?” He smirked and shook his head. “Your words are unconventional.”

Unconventional? Nope. Not even responding to that.

Before I could help myself, I cast a longing look at the burned remains of my chair. I shook it off, went behind my makeshift bathroom wall to use the toilet, and braced myself for another day. I had the feeling things were only going to get stranger from there on out. It was not reassuring.

I left Marcus and the cat to have some bonding time alone in the loft. I didn’t exactly trust him not to somehow cause major property damage by his sheer ignorance, but the idea of bringing him out in public was laughable at best. Drawing enough looks on my own, the last thing I needed was some guy in armor following me around, although maybe it would get the neighborhood creeps to lay off.

I hung around the bottom of the stairwell for a few minutes, listening at the door for any approaching footsteps. Technically, I was paying for the space in the loft, but it was all under the table, and the arrangement might not have been exactly legal, so I did my best to stay on the down-low. Another reason not to be parading a Roman Centurion around right away.

Most of the time, the precautions I took were unnecessary; the only people around were homeless folks, junkies, or both. Some of them were nice. I had a personal favorite. Sam camped out in a little alcove right outside my building’s front door, and usually when I passed, he was sleeping under a floppy hat. This time, he peeked out from under the brim and smiled at me.

“Mornin’, miss.”

I smiled back. In a world where everyone I met looked for ways to take advantage, this man had never done me any wrong at all. It was a small spark of brightness in my otherwise gray world. I wished I could return the favor. “Morning, Sam.”

“Hope you have a real nice day.” He lowered the brim of the hat. I went on my way, but I couldn’t get the warmth of his crinkly, salt-and-pepper smile out of my mind. He ought to be meeting his kids at the corner diner for breakfast, not passing the day under a hat on the street.

“Bet he’d never try and eat a cat,” I mumbled under my breath.

I stopped to think about the fact that most of the people I saw sitting at curbs or holding signs at bus stations didn’t inspire much charity in me. If I gave them money, there was good chance they’d be headed straight to the liquor store. It wouldn’t really be helping them. But if I could pick one person to save, it would be Sam, the guy with the floppy hat. Hands down.

Too bad I never had anything to give. Not yet at least.

My first stop that morning was at a newsstand, the same one I’d been frequenting since I was a kid. It was run by the same seller, too, a man named Mac who was old twenty years ago. Now, he was ancient, but his face retained its deeply settled kindness. He had always been a tranquil spot in my life, even during times of the worst upheaval.

I was more than a bit surprised when I walked up to find some asshole yelling his face off over the counter at Mac. The jerk was so worked up that spit flew from his lips.

Gross.

“You’re running a racket here, old man!” he screamed. “I’m gonna make sure you don’t get away with it no more!” I walked up casually behind him, just another patron getting in line. He turned to me. “Hey, sweetie, take my advice. Don’t buy shit from this crackpot. He’ll rip you right off as soon as you can say please and thank you!”

I looked past him, made eye contact with Mac. “Oh, really? I’ll keep that in mind.” I pointed to the angry man’s face. “You have some saliva dripping down your chin. Makes you kinda look like the crackpot. Just saying.” I held up my hands as the guy growled at me and stormed off in a huff. I stepped up to the counter. “Jeez, and I thought my morning was rough.” I offered Mac a warm smile. “How’s it going? You okay?”

“You saw about how it’s going.” He snorted and smiled. “It’s nothing new. Jackasses like that are a dime a dozen. I’ll get ten more of ‘em before I close up for the night, guaranteed.” He straightened the packs of gum arranged on the edge of the counter.

“If it’s any consolation, his day is about to get a lot worse.” I picked up the angry man’s wallet from the counter. “Maybe he shouldn’t have been in such a damn hurry.”

Mac shook his head. He was smiling still, but there was a tinge of worry in his face. “I’m gonna have to hold onto that for him. I’m sure he’ll be back. Lucky me.”

I flicked the wallet open and yanked a stack of bills out. “Or we can all agree he lost his wallet somewhere else, and we can help that dickhead do something good for a change.”

Mac looked at me like I was crazy. “I don’t understand.”

I wadded up the cash and shoved it into the charity box that Mac kept on the counter. “See? He was an asshole to you, but now he just helped some kids with cancer. Think of it as karmic balance.”

Mac scrubbed a hand over his stubbled cheeks. “I can’t do that, Vic.”

I shrugged. “You didn’t. I did. And besides, that box is locked. There’s no takebacks.”

“Fair enough,” Mac said, grinning.

I scanned the display of papers in the front, and my heart almost stopped when I spotted a tabloid with a grainy photo of something familiar on the cover. GOLDEN METEORITE, the headline bellowed. BREAKING EXCLUSIVE REPORT. I snatched it up and covered it with a copy of the local rag. “How about these today?”

“Glad to see you’re putting that mind of yours to good use.” Mac sighed as he rang me up. “Do me a favor and get rid of that wallet for me. I don’t want that guy coming back and accusing me of stealing his money.”

I slipped the wallet in my pocket. “What wallet?” I offered him a chuckle as I put a five in his hand. “Keep the change.”

“Try to stay out of trouble, Vic.”

I laughed. “Why? It won’t stay the hell away from me.”

The smile fell off my face as soon as I turned away from him. I pulled the local paper out from under my arm and unfolded it, scouring the columns for any mention of bodies found near the river.

My heart pounded.

That was more trouble than I’d ever gotten into before, times ten. I was terrified that someone might have recognized me at the bar, or that the driver of the sedan that hit Rocco’s goon was someone I knew. I half expected to see myself named explicitly in the article as a suspect.

But the blurb wasn’t anything to write home about. There was no mention of me or any woman. Just the usual. “Bodies of Local Mobsters Located by the East River.” Good. Maybe the investigating cops would be paid to stop. I hated to think of myself benefiting from the same negligence and greed that made my parents’ case a living nightmare. Still, as long as I was free, it meant I could keep tracking Rocco Durant.

At this point, I’d take what I could get.

I got to the store before I had the chance to look at the tabloid, but I saw it again in the magazine racks in the checkout line. The photo of the “golden meteorite” was indistinct, and it was a lot smaller than it had looked coming down at me. Maybe I was just being paranoid, but now that the parallel had been drawn, it refused to be dismissed.

Images from the night danced in my mind as I stuck the credit card from the forgotten wallet into the reader to pay for my groceries. One more good deed. I felt a pang of guilt, a relic from my decent upbringing. Stealing was never good, but then again, I had come upon this guy as he was berating Mac for no reason.

Besides, what was the harm?

Soon, he’d see charges on his card that he didn’t make, he’d call the bank to dispute them, and they’d give him his money back. I had a credit card once. I understood how it worked. In the grand scheme of things, I wasn’t doing him any damage at all, or so I told myself.

Plus, now there was Marcus and, apparently, a cat to feed.

I reflected on the things Marcus had told me as I made my way back toward the loft, my arms full of the paper bag. After a night’s rest, his story sounded crazier than ever. Gods? Monsters? A dead king whose protection of Earth was now broken? A magical, gods-only realm? The more I thought about it, the more impossible it seemed. There was no way Marcus could actually be telling the truth.

Right?

“Vic?” The bag of groceries nearly dropped out of my hands. I stared over the top of it into a pair of painfully familiar blue eyes. “Hey, I thought that was you!”

I gave my old best friend a tight smile as my stomach tied in knots. “Hey, Jules. Long time, no see.”

“No kidding.” She looked me up and down. “You look a little rough. Have you been getting enough sleep?”

The tight smile turned into a tight laugh. “No, of course not. Who’s got time for sleep?” Mothering me, as usual.

Jules had always been a wine and romcom kind of girl. I could count the number of parties I’d dragged her to on my fingers. It was jarring to see that I could change so much in the last three years of our friendship, and she could stay so much the same. But it did make me feel a little less bad about not keeping up with her life.

“Vic, you need to take better care of yourself. You know I worry about you.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Familiar guilt crashed over me.

“Really, though. You look like you could use a pick-me-up. Want to stop in that little café around the corner?” She squeezed my arm. “I feel like it’s been forever, and I miss you.”

That was exactly what I hadn’t wanted her to say, and I thought she knew it. She always had a way of pushing me outside my comfort zone, encouraging me to try new things or to look at old things in a new way. Which was funny because Jules was a homebody. She never wanted to jump to conclusions or make unnecessary waves.

When it was time to rock the boat, though, Jules Lugnor could rock like nobody’s business. That was how she ended up a public defender. She was always looking for ways to work pro bono.

A better person than me in every way, it wasn’t surprising that we drifted apart.

“I don’t have time,” I said apologetically. “Not right now.”

“Just a few minutes. I’m buying.” She nodded over her shoulder toward the café’s storefront, thirty feet behind us. “All you have to do is turn around and walk through that door. I’ll even carry your bag.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” I huffed as she took the bag anyway.

There was no way out of this without hurting her feelings, so I pivoted and closed the short distance to the café. What was I so neurotic about anyway? I had nothing to hide from her. She knew every inch of my whole sad story, including the things I had done in the name of justice.

Well, not all the things.

Chapter Seven

A bell chimed as we stepped over the coffeeshop threshold, and a cheerful barista called a greeting from behind the espresso machine. I was uncomfortable out on the street, but in the café? I was way the hell out of my element. It reminded me of times that might as well have belonged to a different lifetime, a different person. Where was the Vic I had been in high school? In college?

Nowhere. She was gone thanks to life throwing blows I couldn’t deflect.

Talking about myself in third person again. Such a gift. I snorted at my internal meanderings. I’d have called myself a dumbass if it wouldn’t have made me laugh out loud.

Unfortunately, I was too far in to back out, so I read the menu over the long counter. I didn’t pay attention to what Jules ordered, but I chose the drink with the simplest name: flat white. The less syllables for me to say, the better. Jules paid with a shiny new credit card. I escaped to a table in the back. We had to sit away from windows in which Rocco or his men could possibly spot me. Just in case they were looking. Of course they were looking.

There was no conversation until we were both sitting, our drinks positioned in front of us. Mine had a perfectly circular, foamy dot in the middle. I tried to channel my thoughts through it in the hope that they’d start making more sense. No dice.

This was a bad idea.

“I think about you all the time, Vic,” Jules said as she poked at her coffee with a stirrer. She dove right in. “You’ve been through so much, and I worry you’re going to lose sight of the big picture. Like, what does your future look like to you?”

I shrugged and forced a smile, hoping humor would help. “A dumpster fire?”

She sighed. “That’s kind of what I’m talking about. I don’t like to see you not looking at least a little bit ahead.”

I glanced down toward my coffee cup. “That’s because it doesn’t matter what’s ahead if I can’t… find out what really happened with my parents.” Decapitate Rocco Durant was what tried to slip out, but I caught it at the last second.

Something told me Jules would not appreciate my plans for bloody murder. Nor would she understand the scene at the bar the night before—especially if she ended up defending me in court. That thought almost made me laugh out loud. In hindsight, I had to admit it was pretty surreal. I was getting used to coming within inches of instant death.

It didn’t bother me as much as it probably should have. I’d numbed myself and I knew it. No hot coffee or friendly conversation was going to help. Only I could help myself, and I wasn’t ready to do that just yet. Maybe never.

“I know.” She fiddled with the button on her cuff. “I can’t tell you how to live or what to feel, and I promise I don’t want to. But it scares me to think of you getting too deep into this stuff. That’s all.”

“I won’t,” I lied. “I can manage it. I’m stronger than I look.”

“I know. You always have been.” She was quiet for a little while. “Do you remember that time we knocked the bee’s nest out of the eaves of your house, and your mom ran around shutting all the windows in the dead heat of summer?”

The memory was so vivid it was almost physical.

I smiled. “Yeah. We thought she was mad, but she was laughing.” In my mind’s eye, I saw my mother, housedress whirling, hair tied up, slamming the windows down against a furious onslaught of bees. The radiant smile on her face was edged in red lipstick. She made sure we weren’t hurt, but she never blamed us. My heart constricted so tightly in my chest I thought it might disappear for good. “I miss her so damn much.”

Jules reached across the table and took my hand. “Me too.”

Then the picture of my mom disappeared, replaced by Rocco’s scowl. Reminiscing always did this to me. But this time was different.

A golden light shone across his image in my mind.

With everything that happened the night before, I felt like I was falling down a rabbit hole I couldn’t escape from. Gods, meteors, and magic swords. Jules had always done her best to keep me grounded. Maybe that was what I needed now. I sucked in a deep breath and let it out in a rush.

I glanced up and locked eyes with her. “Jules, do you think I’m crazy?”

She cocked her head to the side and smiled. “Who wants to know?”

The Roman Centurion sitting in my apartment. “I mean, actually crazy. Do you think I can tell what’s real?”

It took her a long time to answer. Too long, maybe. At last, she looked me in the eye and said, “You’re driven. You’re stubborn. You’re hyper-focused and sometimes a huge pain in the ass. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy. Even at the height of your obsession with your parents’ murders, I never doubted what you saw or what you told me. I never doubted it was real.”

I felt the old wound reopening wider. “Then why didn’t you help me?”

I remembered the moment like it was yesterday. Jules was the first person—fresh out of law school—I had asked for help in locating and prosecuting Rocco Durant.

I had expected her to say yes, no questions asked. She was my best fucking friend.

She had asked a lot of questions, referred me to a lot of people, but ultimately, she said she wouldn’t join me going down that road. At the time, my feelings were more than hurt. I felt betrayed, abandoned by the person I trusted most. From there, the distance only grew between us.

“I tried to help you, Vic, in all the ways I legally could. You wanted me to do things that would’ve gotten me disbarred if I was caught. You asked me to violate all the protocols I’d just finished learning in law school. You wouldn’t go through the proper channels. You wouldn’t be patient about all the inevitable red tape. I know it would’ve been slower, but we would have gotten there in the end, and we would have gotten there without you ending up like….” She gazed at the tabletop, her thought unspoken. “I just couldn’t watch you hurt yourself, knowing there was nothing I could do.”

Rationally, it was more than fair. Jules was on her way to a law career, and there was a lot on the line for her. She could have lost everything she’d worked for, the same way I did. My friend was right, and I knew it—then and now. Funny how it still stung. Would I have done anything in my power, right or wrong, to help her? Hell yeah. Without question. Screw that law degree. I would have thrown it all away to stand beside her. But that was me.

“I should go,” I said, feeling the weight of both of our decisions bearing down on me.

“Yeah. It’s been a few minutes, hasn’t it?” She got up from her seat and lifted my grocery bag. “Don’t forget these.” Her eyes caught the top of the bag of cat food I’d tossed in as an afterthought. “Did you get a cat?”

“Uh, sort of. He kind of found me.” I shuffled toward the door and let her open it for me. “Thanks.”

“So, a stray, huh? I love when that happens.” Jules touched my arm lightly. “Remember what I said, Vic. Take care of yourself. You know, you might feel a little less crazy if you spent more time around people. Maybe you could give therapy a go. Worked wonders for me.”

“Yeah, right.” I rolled my eyes. “Why don’t I just open the phone book, call a random number, and tell them about my problems? Wait, because that’s prank calling people. We stopped that in junior high.”

“They’re trained professionals,” she said, ignoring my effort to soften the conversation some. “But, fine. If you won’t do that, you should at least come to this thing on Saturday. My friend is throwing it. She’s renting out a whole restaurant for the night. It’ll be like a house party, except quieter, and hopefully, with less throwing up.”

I chuckled wryly. The last thing I wanted right now was to force a smile with a bunch of Jules’s overeducated friends.

“I’ll think about it,” I said in the least convincing tone possible.

Jules frowned a little. “Please do think about it, Vic. You know how much I hate these things.” She smiled. “I could use a wingman, like the old days.”

I looked back at my oldest friend and grinned. “Wingwoman. And… I will. Text me the details?” Jules tapped on her phone as I spouted off the number for the burner in my pocket.

“Sure thing. You better show up. I need my best friend back.”

We went our separate ways. I didn’t turn back to get a last look at Jules. I didn’t need to. I’d seen her my whole life.

I just honestly wasn’t sure she’d ever really seen me.

I carried my bag of groceries down the street toward my loft building, lost in the words that my once-best friend dropped like a grenade between our overpriced coffees. My convictions fought my better judgment, and I knew it would take more than Jules’s admonition to break my mission.

But my mental meanderings were cut short when the voice of an oversized man-child cut through the air. It was deep and harsh, with just a hint of a booze-addled slur.

“I don’t know, bro,” he said to his friend, who wore a shit-eating grin. “It might just be my hobophobia, but this piece of filth needs to find a fucking job.”

I stopped in my tracks and watched the twenty-something asshats laugh as Sam cowered at their feet, his arms clenched tightly over his chest. The floppy hat, which I always found so endearing, sat next to him on the stoop in front of my building.

“Hobophobia,” the other one said. “Now that’s funny.” He looked down at Sam. “Why don’t ya go flip burgers so we can get another bum off the streets?”

There were three things I really didn’t like: bad breath, green olives (the black ones are fine), and assholes who got a rise out of picking on the weak. The first two are pretty easy to avoid. Sadly, Brooklyn Heights has its share of idiots getting off on harassing those who can’t fight back.

Blood boiling, I dropped the groceries and shot toward the young cock-jocks. Just as I arrived, bro number one gave Sam a little kick to the ribs, hard enough to make him grunt.

“Hey, taintbreath,” I yelled. “Why don’t you and your friend pick on someone your own size?”

The guy turned, looked down at me, and laughed. “This your boyfriend, honey? Cause if so, why don’t you ditch him for a real man?” He glanced at his friend and winked.

When he turned back to me, he was greeted by the hardened knuckles of my right hand connecting with the side of his head. He stumbled back onto the steps, landing on his ass and holding his temple. “The hell, you whore?” He pushed himself to standing and stepped up to me. “I’m going to teach you a—”

Cutting him off, I drove my knee into his groin. As he bent in half, I followed it up with a quick jab, catching the douchebag in the Adam’s apple. Before his crumpled mass hit the concrete, I was on his friend.

I grabbed his shirt and rammed his thick frame against the brick wall of my building. His head snapped back with a thud. Wisdom told me to drop it and run, but my short fuse and impatience for assholes won the day.

The dude was tall, way taller than me. I pulled him down toward me and spoke slowly. “I’ll give you one chance. Pick up your friend and get the hell out of my neighborhood. If I see you again, you won’t be walking home.” I paused, looking into his wide eyes. “Or… we could always pick up where your friend and I left off.”

He shook his head. “No,” he muttered weakly.

I gave him one more shove for good measure and then watched him drag his friend off down the block.

“Remind me not to mess with you,” Sam said, his voice a little shaky. Poor guy.

I turned my attention from the assailants and knelt by his side. “You okay, Sam?”

He waved his hand at me. “Nah, I’m fine. Just a hazard of livin’ on the streets. Always some kid wants to mess with you.” He grabbed his hat and placed it back on his head. “But you? You have to be more careful. One of them might have had a knife. Or worse.”

I couldn’t help but smile at the irony. If only Sam knew the shit I was knee deep in. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

Standing, I walked over and grabbed the grocery bag. Just before going inside, I took a sandwich and a bottle of iced tea out of the top of the bag and set them down beside Sam. Again, he lifted it to peek at me from under his floppy hat. The smile lit up his whole face. “God bless you, miss. God bless you. Thank you for this.” He glanced at the sandwich. “And for having my back.”

“Nothing to it, Sam. We have to look out for each other. And enough with the ‘miss’ stuff. It’s Vic.”

“All right,” he replied, twisting the plastic top off the iced tea. “It’s Vic, miss.”

I smiled and walked away. Miss. Vic. It didn’t matter as long as he was okay.

My feet and legs complained bitterly about the stairs. I narrowly avoided sending the bag cascading to the floor as the door opened inward. Marcus looked up from where he sat under the window. My knuckles were still stinging from the right hook I landed on that dude’s thick skull.

“I was beginning to fear for your safety,” he said.

“Sorry. Ran into someone I know.” I set the bag down on the table and unloaded its contents piece by piece. I figured it was better not to get into the details of my altercation on the street. “I got eggs, ham, bacon, sausage, bread for toast, and some other things. I figured you’re probably a real meat lover, since you were going to eat our little friend there.” I pointed toward the cat that nestled in the crook of his elbow, purring audibly. The little fur ball didn’t have a care in the world.

“This, Vic, is why I need a guide.”

“Can’t argue there.” I switched on the hot plate, put some butter in my one beat-up skillet, and cooked us up a damn good hearty breakfast. The smell of the food began permeating the room. My empty stomach rumbled. Food always alleviated a shit ton of guilt, pain, and worry. You name the ailment, and bacon could solve it. I smiled thinking about my dad teaching me that lesson years ago.

I focused back on the meal, wrapped up cooking, and served us both heaping plates, digging into mine without delay. I noticed after a few mouthfuls that Marcus poked at his like a picky kid.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “You don’t like eggs?”

“Is this what you typically eat here?” He was doing his best to be polite. It was only half working. “I must have been more spoiled by Carcerum than I thought. The gods’ table was constantly laden with the finest fare.”

“So, you’re saying Earth food tastes like trash because you’re used to eating magical feasts?” I had to laugh. “Sorry, man. There’s no Garden of Eden here, but there is a fridge, if you don’t want that.”

He waved me away. “No, no. It would be ungrateful to refuse an offering from a host. And my body could use the extra fuel.” He put a forkful into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “It is not your fault, Vic.”

I laughed again. “It might be a little bit my fault. Sucks that you have to deal with such a downgrade.”

I’d made the decision that it would be best to roll with all his eccentricities for now. Even if I wasn’t sure what knowledge he possessed or how it might help me, Marcus knew something. If nothing else, he knew how to fight like a beast. I could still see the arc of the spear slashing through the dark. And it was plenty obvious he did need help. So, until I had more information, it wouldn’t hurt to play along, within reason.

But that didn’t mean I believed him.

“Hey, Marcus.”

He glanced at me. “Yes?”

“I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know how I feel about all this crazy god bullshit. The only thing I really care about is finding my man and killing him. And I’m getting a strong feeling that something is weird here. But that’s all I’m giving you.” As I was crumpling up the paper bag, I picked up the tabloid from Mac’s stand and handed it to him. “Here, I picked this up while I was out. What do you think?” I paused. Maybe he hadn’t seen the meteor; he’d been pretty busy drowning when it hit. If he could believe in a magical god-realm though, I felt confident he could handle a golden space rock.

He examined the cover with the rapt intensity of a historian inspecting the Rosetta Stone. Plainly intrigued, he flipped through the pages. “What is this book?”

“It’s the news. Actually, no.” I held up the local paper. “This is more like the news. That’s just sensationalist garbage.”

Marcus closed the tabloid and handed it back to me. “Would you read the most important text out loud, please?”

“You mean the headlines? You want me to read you tabloid headlines?” I held up the regular paper. “Why not from here?”

He frowned. “That one looks uninteresting.”

I raised my eyebrows. “If you insist.” Most of the tabloid headers were awful. Things like: “Aliens Abduct Woman from Farmhouse Bathtub,” or “Florida Doctor Accused of Poisoning Twelve Women with Fake Botox Injections.”

Marcus barely understood those anyway.

I flipped the pages until I got to a two-page story about a girl whose body was found in an alleyway without any blood left in it. “The Bloodless Maiden,” I read. “Corpse of Young Woman Found Exsanguinated in Dark Alley.”

He made me read the details on that one. No blood, no weapon, no obvious signs of trauma. Surprise, surprise, the cops didn’t figure out shit. The case, apparently a murder, remained unsolved. Marcus didn’t want to hear any headlines after that. He sat immersed in morose silence until I dared to ask him what was up.

“It is beginning,” he said.

“What’s beginning?”

He turned his eyes to the window. “Phase One.”

The ominous tone of his voice made the hairs on my neck stand on end, which was stupid. I wasn’t a big fan of the sensation. “I don’t know what that means, as per usual. Explain.”

Marcus took some time to mull things over. When he spoke, each word was measured and deliberate. He had a script in his mind that he was following to the letter. For once, I kept my mouth shut and just listened. For some reason, it seemed important.

“I told you that the gods became locked in Carcerum, away from humanity, because of Kronin, but I did not tell you why. When last the gods battled across the earth, they used all manner of creatures as their pawns. Humans, too. There was no shortage of humans who wished to fight alongside their chosen gods in the war, but there were severe consequences. For a human to fight with a god, he would have to surrender his humanity. Only then could he hope to attain enough power. Kronin thought that this was abhorrent, so he locked the gods away. Now that he has fallen, those gods that wish to do so are recruiting their pawns, building their armies, and making ready for Phase Two.”

I perked up. “Wait. What is Phase Two?”

“War,” Marcus said solemnly. “The cost of human life will be in the millions.”

I furrowed my brow. “Don’t you come from Carcerum? Don’t you benefit from this war?”

Was I seriously talking about this crap like it was real? Maybe a shrink was in my future.

He gave me a disapproving look. “No one benefits from war. And I am not a god. I am human, like you. I know what is at stake when they return.”

“But why would they come back here?” In light of everything I’d been through, it was a genuine question. A realm for the gods had to be better than Earth.

“Better to be king over the earth than an equal in heaven. The gods… are not very fond of one another. They would much prefer to rule, and to rule, they need armies, lands, subjects. I cannot say for sure what this will look like, but I know their methods are both cruel and effective. We must be vigilant for signs of a strange nature.”

Oh, no. Hell no.

Shaking my head, I said, “You must be vigilant for signs of a strange nature. I must be vigilant for signs of Rocco Durant.”

He raised both eyebrows, a gesture I wasn’t aware Roman Centurions could even do. “How am I to know what signs are strange in this place? All things are strange to me here. Whether or not it pleases you, I require your counsel. And you, as previously noted, require mine.”

“For what?” I muttered, feeling slightly sulky. It was a much bigger role than I wanted to play. The idea of killing gods and saving the world appealed to the adventurous part of me, but who the hell was I to think I could do any of that?

He shot a glance of disdain toward my makeshift mattress punching bag. “I am going to teach you how to fight. Properly.”

I glared. “Uh huh.”

The Centurion smiled. “Your current skills leave much to be desired.”

I should have left him for dead. I smiled at the thought.

Chapter Eight

I stood in the corner across from Marcus with a rough wooden sword in my hand, hewn from the plank of a pallet. He had one too and had tried several times to show me how to hold it. The damn things was awkward.

“Like this,” he said, gripping the hilt with each hand and giving me a concerned look. “It is very easy. Let your instincts take over, and swing.” He brought the fake sword up and down in a chopping motion. The “blade” whistled powerfully through the air.

Man, this guy is strong. Shown even minor evidence of his fighting prowess, I felt my respect for him climb a few notches. Sure, he was weird as shit and probably more than a little delusional, but there was no question that the guy could wield a weapon.

I imitated him, but I was only going through the motions. My weapon didn’t make the same commanding swoosh. The tip of it bounced awkwardly off the floor. It reminded me of getting the blade stuck in the mud during my fight with Rocco’s goons.

“No.” Marcus stopped me. “It is not yet time for emotions. You must learn the movements first.” He gestured downward toward his feet. “Your balance is critical here, especially when utilizing a heavy weapon such as a two-handed sword. One unwise shift could put you at your enemy’s mercy. Watch.”

He stepped.

I stepped.

He stepped again.

I stepped again.

His sword cut underneath my guard and struck me lightly between ankle and shin. I almost lost my balance. If he had done it faster, I would have fallen for sure.

He nodded. “You would be dead then.”

“Helpful,” I remarked. Marcus moved his weight to his back foot, twisted his blade, and brought it up along the line of my side, to chin height. I knocked it aside with mine. “I’m guessing I’d be dead then, too.”

“Yes.” He came at me from the other side.

I stood like a tree, eyes half hooded. The moment our swords touched, I let my arms drop to the sides. “Oops. I’m dead.”

He stood back from me, a neutral expression on his face. I waited for him to say something mild and encouraging like he had before, and then go back to fruitlessly attempting to engage me.

Instead, he said, “For someone who has built her life around avenging the deaths of her parents, you do not seem to care very much.”

“Of course, I care. Just not about this. All those guys have guns, Marcus. Do you know how long this thing would last in a gunfight? Less time than it would take for them to pull the trigger.”

“Why should it matter what weapons they have?” he shot back. “The weapon is defined by its wielder, not itself.”

“Okay.” I flopped the wooden sword from side to side. “Then, I’m not good at wielding this thing, and I never will be.”

“Hand to hand combat has more uses than simply learning to fight with swords.” Marcus tapped the impressive musculature of his chest as he spoke. “It hones your reflexes, your strength, your endurance, your focus, your tactics. All of these things are essential, no matter which school of weapon you ultimately choose.”

I folded my arms, giving him a taste of my stubbornness. “School of weapon? Do you seriously hear yourself right now?”

“Very well,” he said. “Let me ask you this. You fought this Rocco when you encountered him, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“How many times did you hit him?”

I fidgeted uncomfortably. “Two. Almost.”

“And how many times did you try to hit him?”

“Five,” I replied, trying to keep my chin up in feigned self-confidence. “We were running for a lot of it. The terrain was difficult.”

Excuses. I knew they were all sorry excuses. Damn him for making me face the music in my own head.

“Oh?” A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. “May I see the weapon you used?”

My face flushed. “No. I lost it while I was saving you.” Which, I reminded myself, hadn’t prevented me from going 3-0 in the end. Maybe learning swordplay wasn’t such a bad idea.

“I see. My point remains valid. No matter what the weapon is, your use of it will benefit from hand-to-hand training. And knowing how to use your body will save you in the event that your weapons fail. You must trust me on this.”

“I don’t trust you on a lot of things,” I muttered. “You want to tell me gods are on their way back from space or whatever to take over the world.”

“Do you know what else I can tell you?” he asked.

“Ugh. What?”

Marcus’s eyes bored through mine as he reached out and softly gripped my chin. “If you do not train to the best of your ability, then your parents’ deaths will have been in vain.”

“You don’t know shit about my parents, you ancient bastard,” I growled as anger blasted through my veins. My hand tightened on the haft of my sword. “So, don’t even think about saying a word about them. You don’t know why they died, or how they died, or how I felt when they died. I’ve been through this with everyone else in my life and more. I don’t need it from you!”

I hefted the training sword above my head and hacked at Marcus, using the same technique I had used against the goons at the river. The major difference was that Marcus knew how to swordfight, and he was not afraid of my pathetic training stick. He knocked it aside easily, pissing me off even more.

“It matters not why or how they died. It matters that you refuse to do everything in your power to claim the justice you desperately seek.”

I roared, charged forward, and swung down again.

He dodged and landed a clean cut across my back. “You know where you would be if this happened.”

“I don’t care!” I shouted. “You’re an asshole, Marcus. God or no god.”

“Does that mean you would like to fight me?” He blocked another one of my wild, unrefined swings. “I am giving you that chance.”

I reared back, coming forward so hard that chips flew off the striking edges of our training blades. As far as I was concerned, it was a real sword, and I was using it to slice at all my hidden pain and fear. I could never be the killer I needed to be to find peace, and scary enough, maybe peace was never to be found in blood and death anyway.

If that was the case, then I’d put my hope in a false prophet, and where the hell did that leave me? I lashed out at the fear that I’d choke at the last possible second, and Rocco would somehow inexplicably survive.

I knew in my heart that I couldn’t live with myself if that were to happen. I needed to be able to commit the necessary atrocities when the time came. I had reached that point last night, staring down the barrel of my lost revolver at Rocco’s wide, rolling eyes.

I need to do this. Right?

Then Marcus happened. Because of him, I had to reroute my steely resolve into something completely different. The motivation I’d built to a fever pitch ebbed back to normal levels. Now, I had to worry about whether or not I would ever reach that level again. And whether I’d get that chance again.

Rocco may have slipped up once, but he wasn’t likely to do it a second time.

“You cost me this,” I told Marcus. “It was you!”

The sword whipped through the air. It was still undisciplined, but there was a ferocity behind it now. The tune it sang was different from his, more savage, but it was singing.

“No, it was not.” He blocked me easily every time, without looking like he was putting in any effort at all. “This is good, however. You are gaining in some areas. Try this.” He stepped to the side, swept the blade down, and then drove it up and forward with a powerful punch. “Aim it right, and your reward will be instant death.” He held his sword against mine. “Try. I will offer appropriate resistance.”

I clenched my teeth. Pushing against Marcus’s strength felt like rolling a boulder uphill. I put my weight into it, both physical and emotional, and strained with all my might. “Damn… it… to… hell!”

His blade gave way. Mine arced downward. I twisted it in my hands and shoved it upward. It stopped less than an inch from his chest. I was shaking, heart beating in my chest.

“I think we are done for now,” he said. “Well done, Vic. You are a loose cannon, but I think with training, you could focus the torrent of emotion battering through your breasts and do something big.”

Battering through my breasts? What the fuck? And it wasn’t well done. I sucked with a capital S.

I didn’t feel good. The training session left me drained and numb. I washed off behind the poor excuse for a bathroom wall, before slumping on the mattress while Marcus took his turn. It had been a long time since I’d last allowed my feelings to consume me so completely. I thought I was past that. I thought I wasn’t doing that anymore.

I was wrong. So damn wrong.

Marcus’s shadow fell over me as I lay curled up on my bed. I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I thought you said it wasn’t time for emotions yet.”

He sat on the floor by the edge of the mattress. “That was true when I said it. I did not realize how you needed your feelings to unlock the strength you have caged inside of you.”

“Don’t say that.” I pressed my face into the pillow. “It makes me sound crazy.”

“That is a problem with your perception, not my words.”

I rolled onto my back. “Fine, but I’m gonna say that I still don’t see the value in hand-to-hand combat when guns are in the mix.”

He chuckled softly. “I have explained this to you. Hand-to-hand training will benefit you no matter what kind of weapon you choose, be it a sword, a spear, or a ridiculous modern gun.”

“Guns are not ridiculous.” I closed my eyes. “They will mess your shit up for real.”

“They can mess up this ‘shit’, perhaps, but there are stronger weapons.”

“Like what?” I sat up, searching the room for the hilt. I found it and pointed. “Like that?” He followed the angle of my finger. His face tensed up. “What is it?”

Some of my confidence started creeping back in. Marcus could smoke me in sword fighting, but he was no match for my shining conversation skills. I was determined to dig as much information as I could out of him now. It was the least he could do for me after that training session.

And for all the bull he had been shoveling, there really was something about that sword. I assumed it was some sort of advanced, government grade technology. But then why was it in Marcus’s hands? Maybe it really was magic.

I shook my head. Next thing I knew, I’d be running around with a breastplate and helmet. No. Not ever.

“You really want to know?” He seemed perplexed by my interest in the sword, and I realized he likely still didn’t know I had used it myself.

I debated telling him but decided to keep that tidbit a secret. Maybe it would come in handy later. “Honestly, I really want to take a nap, but I mean, if you’re willing to tell me.”

“It is called the Gladius Solis,” he said, his eyes still on the hilt. “It was King Kronin’s weapon. He used it to subdue the rest of the gods and lock them away in Carcerum, which was born of its magic.”

“What does it do?” I glanced at him. “Besides create idyllic paradise realms and cut things, presumably.” It definitely cut things. That much, I knew for sure.

“I cannot say,” Marcus admitted. “I served alongside Kronin for millennia, but I only ever saw him use his sword one time—the night he fell. But the legends call it the most powerful weapon in the universe.”

I recalled the image of the bodies by the pier, all of them cut through as easily as paper. “So, it’s strong up close maybe, but weapons have come a long, long way since you learned to fight. Isn’t it possible it’s been surpassed by now? And if it’s so strong, how come Kronin lost? He was a king, right?”

“A hero-king.”

“Okay, even better.”

“Kronin did not fall to a weapon,” Marcus said softly. “He was killed by betrayal. His oldest ally, Lorcan, the god in the shadows, turned on him when he saw a way to bring about the world of which he had always dreamed.”

“So the ‘god in the shadows’ turned out to be a bad guy?” I asked. “Who could have expected that?”

“None of us. He and Kronin were friends. Or so it seemed.” Marcus shook his head. “Lorcan hates humans, you see? He wishes for a realm with no humanity at all, one in which all humans struggle in the thrall of gods, shedding their spark of humanity to become monsters, one by one.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.” I imagined a dude with a book of sad poetry in one hand and a journal in the other, dressed all in black. “I suppose you’re gonna tell me he’s on his way, too?”

“No.” Marcus shook his head. “He is already here.”

“Oh, right. Because he won.”

“In a manner of speaking.”

I pulled the blanket up to my chest and hugged my knees beneath it. “I’m sorry if this is disrespectful, Marcus, but I have some doubts about your king.” He didn’t say anything, but I could feel him watching me. “Why would I want to serve a god who failed at the one thing he set out to do? It’s not like things here have been perfect. My parents… maybe they could have used a hero-king by their side, instead of one hiding in the clouds. And then he goes and gets himself murdered. At the end of the day, Kronin wasn’t good enough, for himself or for us. I can’t believe in that. And you can’t ask me to.”

“I pity you and your troubles, but they are nothing compared to the ruin the gods will unleash on Earth. Carcerum kept you safe for thousands upon thousands of years, Vic. Do you know what was holding it together? Kronin. All that time, he was protecting you. When he sent me here with his last breath, he was protecting you even in death. Your troubles that have been caused by your fellow humans, they cannot be attributed to Kronin’s inability as a ruler.”

I stared at the ceiling. The truth in his words slowly sank in.

“If you want to avenge your parents and perhaps even be a voice for those that cannot speak, there is one thing you need to learn,” he said.

He saw me glance at the wooden swords leaning against the wall in the corner. How did he know the meanderings of my heart?

“No,” he answered as I kept silent. “Not those. It’s up here.” He tapped his temple as I turned my attention back to him. “For years, you’ve been pursuing your demons as the pitiable young victim, ravaged by the evil forces of your world. Bad things happened to you. But if you choose to let the hatred of others define you, you will always remain a victim. History has taught me that it is not victims who change the world, but heroes.”

He has a point. If only it were that simple.

I snorted and gave him the finger. “Yeah, well, you said it yourself. I’m no hero.”

Chapter Nine

Tea brewed in my one saucepan when the prepaid cell phone I kept for emergencies buzzed its way off the edge of the table. Marcus caught it in his palm before it hit the floor.

“Nice save,” I said. He held it for a moment longer, eyeing it with a mix of mistrust and wonderment. I took it from him. “It’s a phone. My friend just sent me a text.”

“What is a text? Also what is a phone?”

“A phone lets us talk to people who are far away. But now no one wants to talk on the phone, so we send texts.” I flipped the phone around to show him the screen with the address of the restaurant where Jules’s friend was hosting the party. “It’s a message, see? With words. She wants me to come to a party tonight.”

“A festivity?” he asked. “I do not think that is wise. You should not be wandering around without protection. The gods could have agents everywhere.”

“Man, could you just cool it with the gods already? I’m losing my freaking my mind.” I gave him a shut-the-hell-up look, which he conveniently ignored.

“Better than losing your head if the gods catch—”

The phone buzzed again

I looked at the address and did some calculations in my head. It wasn’t too far from the loft, actually. If I dressed for the weather, I could walk. I still had no desire to chat it up with Jules’s friends, but I couldn’t stand another moment in this apartment, and Jules could use a wingman.

It was what a friend would do, after all. Not that I was sure she would do it for me, but I needed to let the past go. People had their reasons for shit. I couldn’t keep expecting everyone to respond like I did in any given situation. Jules had to be Jules, and I had to love her for that or walk away.

Sadly enough, I wasn’t ready to do either yet.

Either way, the fresh air would do me some good. And maybe so would some company other than a god-peddling weirdo in armor. Jules had said I might feel less crazy if I spent more time with people—preferably ones not dressed up like a rejected Marvel character.

Two hours later, I stood in front of my meager closet, gazing critically at the few items of clothing I owned that weren’t falling apart. How long had it been since I really, genuinely went shopping for clothes? I frowned, trying to remember.

College?

These days, I only got a new outfit when I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t, like my little charade at Rocco’s bar. On nights like that, the clothes were usually ruined by the time I finally got home.

Case in point: the dress and boots I was wearing two nights ago that got dunked in the river. They still hadn’t dried out completely, and I had no idea how to get the river smell out of the fabric. Not that I really cared. Those clothes weren’t mine. They were just a means to an end.

Tonight, I had no such concerns. I was only going to make an appearance so that Jules would think everything was fine. I wanted to wear something she would like, something that would tell her I was perfectly stable and all my weird behavior yesterday was just a fluke.

Hiding behind an outfit. Awesome.

If she asked me anything personal, I’d say I was just stressed out. That was plausible, right? Of course. Communication was a two-way street, and she hadn’t been coming my way very often, either. She couldn’t claim to know what was going on in my life. Not truly, anyway.

So, I was safe. Throwing on some jeans and a belted sweater, I brushed my hair carefully until all the cowlicks and flyaways from the past few days lay flat.

For good measure, I broke out the makeup kit and did my face up just a little bit, erasing the black circles and bags under my eyes. I added a healthier tint to my cheeks. When I was done, I wore the face of a person who wasn’t sleep deprived, who was eating enough, who wasn’t worrying about everything all the time, and who was definitely not poking around in the mob’s dangerous underbelly.

Once satisfied with my pretense of normalcy, I grabbed my bag off the back of a chair, checked it for phone, keys, and wallet, and made for the door.

“Where are you going?” Marcus asked as he glanced up. He was half reclined on my salvaged sofa with the stuffing poking out of the cushion corners.

“Remember that party I mentioned earlier? There.”

“You look different. Attractive.” He stood up and crossed to me.

“Um, thanks?” I wasn’t sure with his tone if it was a compliment, but since no one else was handing them out, I was taking it.

He paused in front of me. “Allow me to accompany you to your social obligation. You need the protection, and I am curious to know how humankind has evolved since my time.”

“Whoa.” I put my hand up. “Hang on, slugger. First, it’s not a social obligation, okay? Jules isn’t forcing me to show up.” That second bit didn’t sound wholly convincing. “And second, I really think it would be best if you stayed put. New York City isn’t ready for a Roman Centurion in full armor to be walking the streets.”

I could already feel the stares. There would be no need to deny that I was a nutcase then. It would be more than obvious.

Marcus pursed his lips and took in a long breath. “Then I shall discard my armor for now.” I stood in the doorway and watched him take the whole ensemble off, piece by piece, and set it delicately down on the mattress. Underneath, he had only a wool tunic and an undershirt. “I must admit, this arrangement affords much greater range of movement.”

“Nope.” I sighed, weighing my terrible options. “Okay, I still don’t want you to come with me, but I also don’t want you sitting around here with no pants. Hold on.” I dug into the back of my closet where all the miscellaneous items collected. Among them was a canvas pair of painter’s pants, speckled with a variety of colors. They were huge on me, so there was a reasonable chance they might fit Marcus. “These will have to do. Put them on.”

He did as he was told, but he clearly felt strange about it.

“Yes?” he asked, presenting himself. Still weird but definitely better.

I laughed. “Whatever. The best thing for you to do would be to stay here and keep out of sight. You’ve got the cat to keep you company.” The cat, who apparently had become mine overnight and still didn’t have a name, meowed. “See?”

“The feline is good company but somewhat lacking in linguistic talents.” Marcus caught the door and held it open. “I shall accompany you to this party. Do not fear. I will endeavor to keep myself from looking like a fool in the presence of your associates.”

“Thanks,” I grumbled. “So kind of you.”

He clapped me heartily on the shoulder, and my legs nearly buckled beneath me. “You have nothing to worry about. I am well-versed in the nuances of social functions.”

“We’ll see about that.” Somehow, I didn’t quite believe him.

The restaurant was a cozy, two-leveled affair with a bar in the back and an outdoor patio. I spotted Jules as we approached. She was dressed boho chic, standing just inside the doors with a group of women I didn’t know. Her gaggle of friends made me feel a little underdressed. She saw me, and a smile erupted onto her face.

“Vic! You showed up!” She gave me a hug and turned to Marcus. “Who’s this guy?”

“Uh, this is my friend Marcus,” I told her. “I hope it’s okay that he came with me.” I was half hoping she’d say no, but her smile got even brighter.

“Oh, sure, it’s totally fine! We have lots of space. I told everyone to bring their friends.” Her eyes traveled over Marcus’s unusual getup. “Wow, I love your tunic! You have such a unique sense of style. Has anyone ever told you that?”

He paused, bemused. “No, they have not, but I am charmed to make your acquaintance.”

Jules shot me a look. “Vic, where did you find this guy, and why didn’t you tell me about him before?”

“He’s sort of a… recent acquisition. We’re just friends,” I added quickly. Brother. That’s all I need. For someone to think I’m dating a dude my dad’s age.

“What is he, a museum exhibit?” Jules laughed. “Seriously, though, I have some friends who would go crazy over your fashion sense. Let me introduce you. Vic, do you want to come?”

“I think I’ll check out the bar. That’s more my style.” Beer. Now. Fast.

It was possibly the lamest thing I’d ever said, but I didn’t know how to react to the fact that Marcus, who claimed to be a Roman Centurion, was getting introduced to people my age at a party my friend invited us to. So naturally, I sought immediate refuge in alcohol. If nothing else, I could pretend to be invisible.

“I’ll join you in a sec,” Jules said. She steered Marcus toward a group who looked like they’d just stepped off the campus poster for an art college. I skulked my way over to the bar, head down, praying that no one would notice me. The bartender was a college-aged kid who smiled at me as I slid onto a stool.

“What can I getcha?” he asked.

“I don’t know yet,” I said, but I said it without the usual acerbic twist in my voice, trying to be on my best behavior for Jules. This kid had a nice smile. Also, when I summoned him, he would bring me booze. That alone made him my ally.

“No problem,” he said. “Take your time.” Then he backed off, which I also appreciated.

I wanted to use the bar as a buffer zone. I could sit in relative silence and steal some moments to think about the mess filling my brain. All that shit needed to be run through a mental sieve so I could try to work out my next move.

I had spent enough time sitting alone at bars to know that solitude was too much to hope for. It was always only a matter of time before some prick slid onto the seat next to mine and tried to start a conversation. So, I was ready when I sensed someone flanking me, a well-dressed shape tastefully accented with cologne. He sat down, and I prepared my most caustic barbs without looking his way. I wasn’t in the mood to play games with men.

I was barely in the mood to look at a man ever again.

He put his elbows on the bar, and when the bartender sauntered over, he ordered a bourbon on the rocks. The bartender glanced at me as he started to pour.

“Have you made your choice yet, miss?”

“When she does, put it on my tab,” the man said.

I was usually pretty good at ignoring unwanted male attention, but this dude’s voice drew me toward him like a magnet. It was smooth and low, and it hit a calming frequency in my brain. I had to see if the face matched the voice.

To my chagrin, it matched well.

Our eyes met, and my world shook. It wasn’t like a big, traumatic moment, but something about him resettled the sand in my hourglass, and suddenly, things looked slightly different.

He smiled, showing white, even teeth. I was suddenly struck by how much time I’d spent lately in the company of men with poor dental hygiene. Most of the mob grunts looked like they brushed their teeth with a weed-whacker.

“You don’t have to buy my drink,” I said. “I can get it.”

“I’m sure you can, but I’m offering, and somehow, I doubt you’ll turn down free booze.”

“Had a lot of practice with that one, have you?” I tucked a lock of hair behind my ear and immediately chastised myself for slipping into the flirting zone. Something about his smile just drew one out of me, too. I let myself be grateful. Hell, I had taken the time to put on some makeup. Otherwise, he’d have caught me looking like a banshee in a sweater.

“Not as much practice as you’re thinking.” He accepted the bourbon glass, and for the third time, the bartender looked questioningly my way.

“Just a rum and coke,” I said, spouting out the first drink order that popped into my head. “Whatever rum you’ve got is fine.”

The kid nodded.

“A fan of the classics, eh?” the man next to me asked.

My new friend was wearing a black blazer over a crisp white button-down and indigo-wash blue jeans. I couldn’t see his shoes without craning my head like a creep, but I was willing to bet money that they were leather dress shoes, clean and neatly polished. I got a feel for certain types of men in my self-imposed line of work. I was pretty sure I had his number. All except for that voice.

“I guess you could say that.” My drink arrived. I sipped it, and the rum left a gentle spice taste in my mouth. “Come here often?”

He chuckled. “Nah. Drinking at restaurant bars isn’t my thing. It always makes me feel like some kind of salesman.” His dark eyes regarded me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “I didn’t get your name. I’m Deacon St. Clare.”

Deacon. I hadn’t heard that one before.

I toyed with the idea of giving him a fake name, but it soured quickly. “Vic,” I said. His brows knit just briefly, and I added, “Just Vic.”

“That’s an interesting twist. Guess I was wrong about the classics.” He gestured with his glass at the people gathered around the restaurant. “Who do you know in here?”

I scanned the room for Jules, suddenly remembering her promise to join me at the bar. When I saw her, I indicated her general direction with a nod of my head. “Jules.” Marcus sat at a round table with four other people, apparently engaged in lively conversation. “And… that guy. He’s a new friend.”

Deacon cocked his head slightly. “What’s he wearing?”

I smirked. “Don’t ask.”

“Can I ask about something else then?”

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. “If you tread lightly, I’ll allow it.”

He pretended to think. Then he said, “Are you a Brooklynite?”

“Yep.” I bit my tongue before anything else leapt out. “You?”

A slow smile burned across his face. “I started off a little south of here in a place called Dade County. Then, the siren song of Lady Liberty drew me out of the swamp. It’s colder up here, but you can’t beat the view.” He looked straight at me when he said it.

I turned my face demurely away. “You miss the alligators?”

Deacon laughed. “Don’t have to. My folks still get ‘em in the backyard in the summer. All I have to do is stop in for a visit.”

“How big?” I smiled innocently.

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Real big.”

We let the heat simmer between us, sizzling in a few seconds of quiet. The hum of background conversation barely registered in the absence of Deacon’s voice. I was starting to feel a pull that I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. It was dangerous and magnetic like his voice, but I couldn’t deny the attraction. The sideshow voice that usually had to have its say was screaming “run,” but I flipped it off and kept nudging toward the comfort of being around someone who seemed to enjoy my company.

He broke the silence with the worst question possible. “How about your family? What’s the equivalent of gators up here?”

I hesitated for as long as felt safe. The truth came out when I opened my mouth.

“My parents died a few years back. At the same time.” I didn’t know why I was honest with him, just like I didn’t know why I tacked that extra detail onto the end. “They were murdered.”

Damn it to hell.

Whenever anyone even thought the word “parents” near me, it was like I completely lost my shit. I just had to keep spitting out the cold, hard facts of my sad life, repeating the words over and over.

My parents died. My parents died. This guy was as close to a total stranger as he could get, and now, he knew. My parents died.

No wonder I always felt so crazy.

“I’m sorry, Vic,” he spoke gently. “I shouldn’t have presumed. That’s on me.”

I gave him a small, bitter smile. “No, it isn’t. How often do you expect to exchange funny parental anecdotes with a girl, and she says, ‘actually, my parents were murdered’?”

“More often than you might think.” He watched the TV on the back wall for a moment, seeming to fish for something relevant to say that wasn’t awkward. I knew from experience that no choices were perfect, but he came back with a decent one, at least, in my book. “Did they catch who did it?”

I shook my head. “I know who it was, but he went free. Not enough evidence is what they told me.”

Deacon’s eyes frosted over. “Yeah, that happens a lot in Miami, too. You hear about it on the news all the time. But the families never give up, you know? I mean, I’m sure you know. It’s inspiring.”

“I haven’t given up.” I took a drink of my rum and coke. The carbonation helped to clear my head.

“Yeah, you don’t look like a quitter,” he said, a smirk lifting the side of his mouth.

I glanced at him, finding his gaze already fixed upon me again. Something in it had changed, a subtle adjustment of intensity. Instead of feeling warm, I was kind of uncomfortable, almost like I was being scrutinized.

That warm smile returned to his lips, but my suspicions were already on the rise. Was it weird to ask if they caught my parents’ murderer? Not necessarily to me, but then again, I’d been consumed by it for five years. Did he have the right to express such blatant interest?

Free country. Still, it didn’t sit right. A hidden motive began to form in the back of my mind.

I finished my drink and set the heavy glass down on the bar. “Thanks for buying.” I directed my eyes toward the buffet table on the other side of the floor. “Is there anything over there that goes well with rum and coke?”

He grinned. “I’d be happy to check it out. Shall we?”

We walked side by side toward the food. I kept my hands clasped primly in front of me as if my every thought was not consumed by figuring out the best way to find out what Deacon’s game was.

Chapter Ten

Maybe I could pick his pocket. I had done it before when dealing with drunk mobsters. I just needed to see what was inside Deacon’s wallet, money or otherwise, because the peculiar angle of his questions had caught on something inside my mental gears. I was worried he might have a badge concealed in his back pocket, and I wouldn’t have a chance of getting to it unless we were on our feet.

The buffet table was the perfect excuse. Too bad my damn stomach thought to cry out. Sounded like two cats in a back alley scrapping it out for their next meal.

I touched my stomach as heat burned my cheeks. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. Looks good.” Deacon handed me a plate.

I forced myself not to inspect his hands for gun calluses, which I had learned to spot on officers of the law. If I flirted a little more, I might be able to hold his hand. That would be foolproof but maybe too risky. Until I knew otherwise, the safe thing to do was assume he was a cop.

And a cop—a good one at least—would know when someone was acting suspiciously.

“Thank you.” I pretended to be indecisive about what food I wanted. It wasn’t hard. Even though my stomach was ready to chow the fuck down, eating was the last thing on my mind. I was waiting for more people to come over, maybe form a little crowd around us so I could try and pinpoint the location of Deacon’s wallet. I couldn’t take it immediately, but I’d have felt better knowing where the target was.

No one came close enough. I picked up a few things and let him lead me to a nearby table. Jules caught my eye on the way and gave me an enthusiastic thumbs-up. A terrible thought crossed my mind. Had she set me up? Was the whole party just an elaborate ruse to hook me up with this guy?

Yeah, right. Just my good old-fashioned paranoia taking over again. That might mean I was wrong about Deacon, too, and I was about to make an ass out of myself for no good reason. Nothing new in my life.

I’d open his wallet and find his business card as a BMW salesman or something. Of course, if I did it right, I was the only one who would know of my stupidity.

And I was determined to do it right.

The tables in the room were small and intimate. Deacon sat across from me, his knee brushing by mine under the table cloth.

“You know, if you want me to go away, feel free to say so.” His smile lit up his whole face. “I know I can be a little persistent when there’s something that I want.”

I had to admire his confidence. “Bold words from a man I just met, what, twenty minutes ago?”

He checked his silver wristwatch. “Let’s say thirty. That gives us a little more history.”

I raised my eyebrows at him and laughed. “Do you turn the charm up this high for every girl you meet, or am I just lucky?”

“When I have to turn it up like this, I’m the lucky one.”

Damn. He really didn’t miss a beat. I sort of wished we were at a club instead of a rented restaurant. Dance floors made pickpocketing shamefully easy. I didn’t even want to keep it. All I needed was a quick glance or a quick squeeze of his hand. A glimpse at the badge would be better.

C’mon. Give me an opening.

Another half hour went by. Forty minutes. I was starting to lean toward giving up when Deacon got up from the table.

“I’ll be right back,” he said.

I tracked his path toward the restroom, which went directly by the table where Marcus had been planted since we arrived. It was time to pay my favorite Centurion a visit.

He grinned widely when he saw me. “Hail, Vic! Come be introduced to my new companions.”

I politely moved around the table as he explained our current living situation to anyone that would listen.

“Super cool of you to let him couch-surf like that,” said a kid in a bow tie and suspenders whose name I had just learned was Ezra. “When I was backpacking cross-country, I met some really rad people, but there were a lot of hard-asses, too. It’s like, come on man, I just want to crash on your floor. I’ll be gone before you get up in the morning. How hard is that?”

A general murmur of assent went through the circle. I smiled, nodded, and tuned them out. My eyes flicked surreptitiously to the bathrooms. I had to catch Deacon coming back out. It was the best chance I would get.

He seemed to take forever though. Had he fallen in? Shit himself? Eww… that would suck. Shitting yourself in a public place and having to do the walk of shame.

Really? I ignored my own dumbass thoughts and focused back on the group in front of me, or tried to.

My paranoia spoke up with more reasoning attached to it: what if he had gone to the bathroom to ditch the party through a window? Not only would I probably never see him again, but he’d tip off his colleagues that he thought I was worth looking into. A girl with two murdered parents was automatically suspicious. And maybe someone had seen what I’d been up to down by the pier, slicing and dicing mobsters with a magical sword.

I took a linen napkin off the table and wiped my sweaty palms with it, pretending I had gotten something on my hand. Finally, the door to the men’s room swung open, and Deacon emerged. He walked toward our table with his head down, preoccupied with something in his hands.

I kept myself facing straight ahead with a fake smile pasted on my lips, but my stomach did flips as he came closer. He was holding his wallet, folding a handkerchief into the change pocket. Show it to me, handsome. Show me what I want to see.

“Oh, Deacon!” To my surprise, it was couch-surfer Ezra who called him over. “Hey, have you met Marcus? I think you’ll get a kick out of this guy.”

Deacon’s body swiveled toward us, and as his right hand lowered, the fold of his wallet drooped down. I had only a split second of unobstructed view, but I saw everything I needed to see. The flash of metal convinced me beyond a doubt. Deacon from Dade County was a cop. And that meant we had to get out of here.

I removed myself carefully from the table and took my turn heading to the bathroom. The soft, flattering light told me that I still looked good, so no one would suspect a thing if I nabbed Marcus and made up a story about a previous engagement. I could say I got a text, that a friend was in from out of town and wanted to meet up.

Any number of excuses would work, so long as they let us leave. I hoped that Marcus’s newfound popularity wouldn’t chuck a wrench into my escape plan.

By the grace of some higher power, Marcus was not engaged in conversation when I emerged from the bathroom. I stepped up to him and laid my hand on his shoulder, squeezing once. He looked up at me, and I quirked an eyebrow. His eyes rolled subtly around the room.

Good. He understood that something was up. It sort of felt like we were partners in crime, even though I was positive he had no real clue what I was trying to accomplish.

“I got a text from K,” I told him in a regular tone of voice. “He wants to meet up. You wanna go?”

It took Marcus a moment to formulate the correct response to that prompt, but he eventually got there. “Yes, if he sent you a… text, then it must be critically important. Let us make haste.”

Not quite perfect, but close enough. We put on smiles and said our goodbyes. I saved Jules and Deacon for last.

“Aww, are you leaving?” Jules put her arms around me and squeezed. “Thanks so much for showing up. Fill me in later, okay?” A mischievous little grin popped up, and she leaned in close to me, speaking softly. “I saw you cozying up to Ezra’s hot friend. I want all those details.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I said. “But if I must, I’ll make up something juicy later for you.”

“You out?” Deacon slung his blazer over his shoulder. “Want me to walk you?”

“No, that’s okay. I showed up with this guy, remember?” I jerked my thumb at Marcus, who was coming up behind me.

“I assure you, sir, I am all the protection Vic needs.” They shook hands. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” Deacon shot me a secret look. “That goes for you, too, Vic.”

I smiled. Then Marcus strode from the restaurant, clearing a path for me to follow. I didn’t relax until the frosted glass doors had shut behind me.

“What news, Vic?” Marcus asked curiously. “You appear discontented.”

I did my best to wave his concern away, hoping like hell his five-dollar word meant bothered—not hot and bothered, just bothered. The hot part was none of his damn business. “Not much. Deacon is a cop. I saw his badge. So, we had to leave.”

“Ah. There is not much difference between a cop and a centurion, I will assume.” Marcus nodded sagely. “Then we had to depart because of what took place on the night that I arrived.”

“Wait, you know about that?” I blurted the question out before I could stop myself.

The centurion gave me a strange look. “You told me yourself of your encounter with this Rocco Durant and of your intentions to kill him. Do you not recall?”

“Oh, right. No, of course, I recall that.” I ran my hands through my hair, praying I looked only frazzled instead of scared to death. “That night is still such a blur. I’m still half wondering if it was even real.”

“To be truthful, so am I,” Marcus remarked, his voice solemn.

“Yeah? Why’s that?” I had to resist the urge to look back as we walked away from the building. Maybe Deacon had followed us out and would think it looked suspicious. Or maybe I was just being paranoid. Again. I told myself to take a deep breath and listen to Marcus, who was answering my question.

He gazed up at the murky New York City night sky. “I had never dared to imagine the possibility that Kronin might fall, though I believe he knew what was in store. He was resigned in the last days, as a man might be who had laid eyes upon the future. Now, he is gone, and I am not sure where this new path leads. Perhaps to a hero, or perhaps…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “No matter. We will do what we can with the time we have.”

“You’re making it sound like this is going to be the end of the world.”

“And you make it sound like you would not miss it.” He glanced sideways at me, and I looked down.

“This dump?” I asked nonchalantly. “Are you kidding me?” I kicked at a pebble in the street and watched it skitter over the curb and underneath the wheels of some beater coughing up clouds of black exhaust. “Somehow, I don’t think I would.”

“I am sure your feelings are justified,” Marcus said. “But there must still be beauty in it somewhere.”

I rolled my eyes. “Not here.”

He frowned. “I did notice that the stars appear to be… invisible.”

That made me chuckle. I couldn’t help myself but dig into him a little. “So you still thinking about this text I got?”

“What is this text? A message I would gather due to contextual clues. Was it a smoke stack or a dial of some sort?” He lifted his eyebrow and smirked. “You humans and your silly mechanisms of communication. Telepathy works best.”

“Right. I’ll keep that in mind.” I didn’t respond to his question. There was no need too. He’d already moved on.

We walked in silence for a while, in no particular direction. I was too jumpy to want to head home just yet. I needed to work off some of these nerves somehow, and when he wasn’t prattling on about something I didn’t understand, Marcus wasn’t a bad walking companion. He was imposing enough that the usual pricks on the street might actually leave me alone.

He cleared his throat. “Can I ask you a question?”

I sighed. He was doing so well. But I had nothing else to do, and the edge had fallen off my mood. “Shoot.”

He furrowed his brow. “I have no bow or arrows.”

This fucking guy. “I mean, ask away,” I said with a deeper sigh.

“Are there still churches in this version of the world?”

If I’d been drinking something, I would have done a spit-take. “Why? You need to go to confession?”

Part of me decided he had to be for real, or for real delusional. Nobody normal was this dedicated to a character. Maybe the poor bastard was delusional? Seemed the most reasonable answer.

He shrugged, plainly unoffended by my reaction. “Your attitude is so secular that I thought perhaps the rituals of worship had fallen by the wayside. This is not true, I take it.”

“Oh, buddy.” I patted his rock-hard bicep. “Buddy. Pal. There is so much you don’t know for some reason. So much.”

“Would it trouble you to explain? You are my guide after all.”

From anyone else, with any other voice coming out of any other face, a question like that might have warranted a kick to the shin from me, but Marcus was different somehow. Innocent was a weird word to apply to a grown man, but that was the one that first sprang to mind.

“Okay, look.” I drew in my breath. “I don’t know why the hell I’m doing this with you, but here goes. We have gods. We have a lot of gods, but they’re not the ones you’ve been talking about, see? They’re like Jupiter. And Vishnu. And Odin. And then there’s just regular old God with a capital G.” I ran my hand through my hair again, corralling my jumbled thoughts. It had been forever since I’d had to articulate a point on religion, much less in this context. “But the thing that’s most important about our gods is this.” I stopped, and I made him stop, too. “They’re all made up.”

He frowned. “What does this mean?”

“It means that they don’t exist. Man invented gods to make himself feel better about dying someday. Humans need to find meaning or else we get sad. That was like one of the first things we learned about ourselves, ever. Then we learned that making up stories about all-powerful beings allows us to ascribe that meaning to something which can never disappoint us. That’s how I see it, anyway.” I glanced at him. “Now do you understand why I have trouble just believing you about this Carcerum thing?”

Marcus appeared to be deep in thought, and he didn’t respond. I half expected him to stroke an imaginary beard. It was most certainly what I would have done in the moment.

“Humans believe in tons of shit that doesn’t actually exist. And you know what else? A lot of times, even if you do believe, it doesn’t help.” My voice dropped to a mutter. “Which has been my personal experience.”

He was quiet for a significant period of time. The longer he went without saying anything, the stupider I felt. I didn’t even know the guy, and I was out here trying to alienate him for his beliefs while he was still living in my loft. I tried to paint my convictions as simple education, but I was perfectly aware of how all of it sounded.

Then he said, “I am sorry, Vic. I did not realize that these things had painful relevance in your life.”

“They don’t,” I lied. “I just want you to know where I stand.”

“And now I do.” He turned to me and extended his hand. “Peace?”

I stared at him, at his hand, and back. “Yeah. Sure.”

As annoyed and confused as I was by the current situation, which seemed to be almost entirely his fault, I couldn’t help but find Marcus’s quirks endearing. He was kind of like a kid—a kid who was eerily well-spoken and jacked as hell for some reason. Clearly, he thought he knew a lot, and he might have, back wherever he was from.

Am I really believing this otherworldly stuff? No… Ugh. Yes.

But he had a lot to learn about New York.

“Who needs stars when you’ve got Times Square?” I asked. “C’mon. We’re already out, so we might as well have a good time. If you’re looking for unusual, I can show you some stuff that’ll blow your mind.”

He touched his head and looked a tad concerned. “I like my mind where it is. No blowing it up, please.”

I rolled my eyes and grabbed his forearm. “It’s a figure of speech, you know? Whatever. Just relax and let me show you the twenty-first century.”

Chapter Eleven

As usual, Times Square was lit up like a technicolor Christmas tree, almost negating the darkness of night. It was raining a little bit as we arrived, and the lights reflected in forming puddles on the pavement. To me, it was the same old garish carnival I’d always known it to be.

To Marcus, it must have been inconceivable.

He craned his neck back and stared upward, openmouthed and totally oblivious to the rain. Watching him, I realized what a brilliant idea it had been to bring him to the square—he was surrounded by tourists and fellow weirdos on every side. No one gave him more than a passing glance. Not to mention that he doubled as a pretty good path-clearing device.

“This place is astounding,” he said to nobody in particular.

I pushed him slowly through the throngs still clogging the sidewalks. An off-tune chorus of taxis honked in the streets. Someone close by reeked of piss and liquor.

“Glad you think so,” I answered. “I try to avoid it.”

Marcus whirled to stare at me, aghast. “Why?” He swept an arm out in a grand gesture as if I was obviously just missing the point. “It is marvelous.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s crowded and loud. It never shuts down. The lights never go off. People never stop coming here. I prefer peace and quiet.”

He turned in a circle, half ignoring me. “It is a miracle of engineering.”

“And a damn tourist trap.” I yanked him out of the way of a stampeding group of people, all wearing those I Love New York T-shirts. “Hey, maybe we should get you one of those. You’re technically a tourist.”

His face lit up. I regretted mentioning it. “That is where we are? New York?”

“Uh, sort of.” A geography lesson had not been part of my plan. “We’re in New York City right now. This is Times Square, which is in Midtown Manhattan.” I pointed. “Over there is Broadway. Over here is Seventh Avenue.”

“Is this where the king resides?” he asked.

I smiled slightly. “Not exactly. But there are plenty of powerful people in this city.” I stretched my arms out and laced my fingers behind my head. “Personally, I’m a hell of a lot more comfortable staying in my neck of the woods, back where things make sense.”

“This is it.” The raw wonder in Marcus’s voice had been replaced by a surprisingly fierce determination. “This is the place for me to find my hero.”

At first, I just looked at him while my brain took its sweet time processing what he had just said. Then I groaned. “Oh, please. Don’t come at me with this hero talk right now, man. I thought we were gonna come out here and have some fun. You get to see the city, and I get…”

I trailed off. What did I get out of this, other than amusement from seeing Marcus awed by modern technology? Admittedly, it was fun watching him, almost like I could see the city through his fresh eyes. Still, would it kill him to drop the hero business for, like, ten minutes?

“You do not sound like you want to have fun,” he remarked. His eyes were constantly moving now, scanning the sea of faces with impressive, laser-focused intensity. In a matter of seconds, he had transformed from gawking out-of-towner to a man on a serious mission. It was obvious he wouldn’t be deterred.

“If your idea of fun is tracking down a legendary hero, then no, I’d rather not,” I muttered. “Your hero isn’t the only thing to see around here. If you can even find him.”

Marcus cut a quick glance at me. “Perhaps you would be happier if you were not so negative,” he suggested.

My temper flared. I rounded on him, glaring daggers up into his old, maddeningly dignified face. He wasn’t even making eye contact. “Seriously, dude? After all the bullshit I’ve been through, you’re gonna tell me to just smile it away?”

He stepped off the curb, and I snapped a hand out to keep him from wandering straight in front of traffic. A cabbie slammed on his horn.

“Hey, you freaks!” he screamed out his window. “Get outta the street!”

“Watch where you’re going!” I hissed through clenched teeth. What a great night this was turning out to be. I had to bail on Jules’s party because the hottest guy there turned out to be a cop, and now, we were getting abused by cab drivers. It almost made me want to march Marcus right back to the restaurant so I could take my chances with Deacon.

Almost.

Marcus, for his part, wasn’t fazed by the encounter. He was contrite, which I had to admit I appreciated. “Apologies, Vic,” he said. “I will be more mindful in the future.” He frowned. “I am unused to these horseless chariots, though I marvel at their speed.”

“Yeah. They’re called cars, and they’ll kill the shit out of you.”

“To be fair, so would the chariots. Have you ever been kicked by a horse?”

I forced myself not to look at him for fear that I would burst into laughter. I wasn’t sure he’d appreciate that.

“You know what?” I said. “I haven’t.” A great mass of people was beginning to press in around us. It was making me extremely uncomfortable. There were too many eyes out here, too many people who might be watching me. I preferred keeping a low profile ever since I started tangling with the mob. I tugged on Marcus’s arm. “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”

Maybe if I kept him moving, he’d stop spouting weird shit every five minutes.

He followed me docilely off the curb. We were jostled by the crowd, and I immediately regretted not putting him in front of me as a human shield. Two-thirds of the way across, I glanced around to find that Marcus was no longer beside or behind me. Still walking, I spun around.

“Marcus!”

He’d stopped in the middle of the street, parting the living current like a log in a stream. Several people looked sideways as they altered their paths to move around him. My voice seemed not to register, so I tried again. “Marcus!” He didn’t respond until I was standing on the curb. Then the horns began, and he jogged to catch up.

“You can’t do that here,” I said.

It was as if he hadn’t heard me at all. A huge grin stretched across his face, deepening the crinkles at the corners of his slate-blue eyes. “Vic!”

“What?” I placed my hand on his back and shoved him gently forward, mostly to keep him from stopping again. He had gone back to looking up, though now he seemed to be eyeing something in particular.

“I found him!” He pointed. “There. My hero.”

It struck me as such an odd turn of phrase that I couldn’t say anything for a moment. Then, I followed the direction of his finger—and laughed.

He stared at a billboard the height of a house, one of those that played video. We watched an action-packed trailer play out, complete with guns and explosions and a movie star decked out in SWAT gear, looking cool as he crouched behind rugged cover. In the final shot, he gazed into the middle distance, his face streaked with dirt, blood, and sweat.

“That is not your hero,” I said as soon as the screen had switched to someone else. “That guy’s fake. He’s an actor.”

“Be that as it may, he was in the middle of a great battle,” Marcus declared. “I must find him. Who is he?”

I shook my head. “Look, his name is Cameron Cruze, but he’s paid to do that stuff, okay? None of it is real. It’s all made by… machines.”

“That is nonsense. I saw him.” Marcus scanned our surroundings. “Where is this Cameron Cruze’s dwelling? There is no time to waste. The gods are coming. He must fulfill his duty.”

Marcus began striding down the sidewalk in a random direction, as if fate would guide his steps to his goal. I loved his confidence, but I needed him to understand the truth of the matter. I tugged on his arm and managed to pull him out of the main thoroughfare and into an ATM alcove.

“Marcus, listen,” I said. “Cameron Cruze is not a warrior. He’s just pretending. You don’t understand what you saw.” I took a deep breath, hoping that some of this was getting through to him.

He stared at me for so long that I almost thought he understood. Then he roared with laughter. “Ah, Vic! It is you who does not understand. I saw the bravery in his eyes. The determination. And what you call pretending, I call training. With no monsters to fight, what else could he do but pretend until real war was upon him?”

I sighed, seeing that Marcus had made up his mind. “Look, even if this is the hero you’re looking for, I have no idea where to find him. And even if I did, it’s not like we could just stroll up to his door and talk to him.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “We will simply ask for an audience. Surely, he will hear me out.”

“I would love to see that conversation,” I said. “Believe me, it would be more entertaining than any of his movies. But the man could be anywhere in the world.”

“Fear not, Vic,” he said, clapping me on the shoulder so hard I thought my knees might buckle. “There is always a way forward. We will find Cameron Cruze, for I am here to lead us to victory.”

Frustration welled up inside me. The man wouldn’t listen to reason. Still, there was something inspiring about his conviction. I half-believed he could find Cameron Cruze and recruit him for this quest.

“Fine.” I gestured for him to walk ahead. “Go on. If you’re so set on this, the least I can do is try to help you out.” I still thought it was all completely insane, but at this point, what was I going to do? Marcus had no money and no real way of blending in. He had nothing but sheer willpower, and apparently, he was going to find his hero or die trying. So, I decided I might as well tag along for the ride.

Not that we needed to have any more adventures. But besides, he still owed me. And as long as Rocco Durant still had his head, I could use Marcus’s help.

As we headed down the street, Cameron Cruze’s chiseled mug appeared again on the billboard. He did sort of look like a hero; I had to give Marcus that much credit. A series of dates and times appeared next to his image, along with the words “EAST COAST COMICS CONVENTION”.

I couldn’t help but smile. Maybe Marcus was right and the two men were supposed to meet. Even with my doubts, I had to admit the timing was more than a little convenient. Whether it was coincidence or fate, Marcus was about to get that meeting after all.

“Hey,” I said. He turned to me questioningly, eyes lingering on Cameron Cruze’s face. I nodded at the billboard. “Looks like the hero’s gonna be in town. What do you say we go meet him tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow?” he asked. Hope rose in his voice. “Is it possible?”

“I think so, although we might have to be there pretty early.” Having lived in the city for twenty-eight years, I’d seen the kinds of crowds the convention typically drew, and I was not looking forward to fighting my way through them. But Rocco was out there somewhere, living it up. The thought galled me so much I knew I had no choice but to help Marcus out on his own little quest, insane as it might be.

We’d made a deal.

“I am honored to have you as my traveling companion,” he said with such heartfelt sincerity that I couldn’t be too salty about the hell I’d just volunteered to go through. Besides, who knew what we’d find? Maybe the tickets had all sold out already, or maybe they were way too expensive.

Or maybe Hollywood pretty boy Cameron Cruze was supposed to save the world for real this time.

Chapter Twelve

I told Marcus to wear his armor to the convention; it was the only place that stuff would actually help him blend in. He stood with me in the line snaking out the front doors of the Javits Convention Center, and we shuffled forward an inch at a time. It was the first week of October, so it wasn’t hot, but the sun glared down at us.

I shoved my hands in the pockets of my patchy sweatshirt. “So, what do you think? Is it as glamorous as you expected?”

Marcus squinted up at the building. “This place is grander than the Colosseum in Rome. It is a fitting place to meet a great hero. You are certain that he is here?”

“Yes. He’s a guest… of honor.” I couldn’t help adding that last bit just for Marcus’s sake. I didn’t want to admit it, but the guy was growing on me. Sure, he was idealistic and bullheaded as hell, but so was I. Just in a different way.

“Ah. That is sensible, indeed. And all these others have come to offer him tribute for his deeds.” Marcus smiled, pleased with himself for figuring it out.

“I guess you could say that.” I ran a hand through my hair and looked around. Ten years ago, I would’ve been in my element in a place like this, surrounded by people in costumes living out their pop culture dreams. I might have even thought about dressing up.

That version of me seemed so long ago. Maybe once I took out Rocco, I could figure out how to live a normal life again.

Now, I hunched down in my torn-up jeans and ratty hoodie, watching con-goers rubberneck at Marcus and his flawless armor as they walked past. He’d polished it before we left. The shine was bright enough to kill a man. I had to shield my eyes every time I turned toward him.

“Hey, can I get a picture of you?” someone asked. Marcus and I both looked toward the sound of the question, but the kid was obviously not talking to me. He held up his phone, grinning. “Your armor looks sick, bro! How’d you do that? Papercraft?”

“Thank you, friend!” Marcus beamed, but a shadow of confusion crossed his face. “You would like to… get a picture?” He glanced at me for help.

“Not even breaking character, huh? I love it. So badass.” The kid put out a hand. “Just stand right there.” The phone camera made its distinctive shutter sound. “Awesome. Here, you wanna see?”

He showed us the photo.

Framed like that, standing tall and square against a jarringly modern backdrop, Marcus looked almost cool. Like a relic or something. His armor practically glowed in the picture.

I gave the kid a thumbs-up. “Nice.”

“Thanks. You guys are rad!” He flashed one last smile and disappeared.

I looked up at Marcus. “Get ready for that to happen a lot. Cameron Cruze isn’t the only great warrior here.”

Marcus stood up a little straighter at my words.

It took us an hour to get up to the ticket vendors and less than five minutes for me to drop a hundred and twenty bucks on two one-day passes.

The guy in the security line looked Marcus up and down. “Man, these costumes get better every year.” His eyes fell on the hilt at Marcus’s hip, which I had not noticed or expected him to bring. My chest tightened. Shit. “That’s not a real sword, is it?”

Marcus looked offended. “What? Of course, it—”

I jabbed him discreetly in the side. “It’s not. It’s just a prop hilt. He’d tell you that if I could get him to stop roleplaying for two seconds.” I gave the guard a knowing grin. “I think it’s the armor that does it to him.”

“Right.” The guard chuckled and waved us through. “Enjoy the con.”

I made Marcus hustle until we were out of earshot. I knew the first thing he said would be something about the security guard.

He did not disappoint. “That man believed me to be wearing a costume?”

I sighed. “Just let it go, Marcus, okay? No one wears this kind of… stuff anymore.” I gestured to his whole getup, careful not to refer to it as “shit.” “Especially not around here.”

“But look.” He indicated at some guy walking past us in full bionic future gear, including a shielded helmet and a lighted gun. “Is that not a warrior?”

This discussion hadn’t gone well the last time we tried to have it, but I could give him no other answer. “Not a real one.” Before he could say anything in response, I pulled him along. “Come on. Let’s make a plan. We’ve only got a day.”

The schedule inside our convention goodie bags was an inch thick, packed with fine print and a spreadsheet of events that looked like the subway timetable. I stood off to the side of the bustling crowd and searched for Cameron Cruze’s name while more eager photo seekers flocked to Marcus. A girl dressed in all black, with yellow contacts affixed to her irises, harangued him until he flexed for her selfie. I might have felt sorry for him, but he seemed to be enjoying all the attention.

Maybe it was lonely up in Caledon or wherever the hell he said he’d come from.

Cameron Cruze had a signing and photo op at noon in Hall A. I looked at my phone. We had an hour and a half to kill. I supposed it couldn’t hurt to walk the hallowed halls of the biggest comics convention on this side of the country, soak in the atmosphere, and pretend I was normal for a little while.

The last of the giggling picture-takers ran off, and I collected Marcus, who was rubbing at a fingerprint on his shoulder.

“What’d I tell you?” I asked. “You’re a regular celebrity. That’s modern language for ‘famous person.’”

“So it seems.” His tone grew strangely wistful. “It reminds me of what I can remember of my original life.” A soft smile touched his lips. “Did I tell you that I was quite famous once myself?”

“What? No.” So, now he was not only ancient, but he was famous, too? How much more over the top could his story get? Well, I guessed if you were going to make up a crazy story about yourself, you might was well go big.

We passed from the walkway into a wide-open atrium encased in glass. I moved behind Marcus, preparing to use him once again as a human cowcatcher. “You see,” he was saying. “I was—”

He stopped, and I ran into his back. My forehead bounced off the plate there. “Ow! What the hell, man?” He had his eyes locked on something I couldn’t see through the swirling mass of human beings. “What is it now?”

He wore a fierce scowl. “I see a creature over there. No doubt sent from the gods.”

Before I had time to even think about stopping him, Marcus charged into the crowd.

“Hey!” I shouted after him. “No fighting! We’re not at war, you nut!”

The people in my immediate surroundings laughed, but I hurried along after Marcus. The dense crowd made it hard to keep pace with him. From a distance, I saw what Marcus had been staring at: a guy as tall and as broad as him, dressed as everyone’s favorite space monster from a popular cartoon. They were squaring up in the middle of a ring of frothing onlookers. I spotted convention security lurking on the outer edge of the gathering.

The monster had a grin on his painted face, clearly thinking this was just a fun bit of roleplay for the crowd. He lifted his toy rifle, and the crowd cheered. Marcus had a determined look on his face, and I knew he was not playing around.

This was not happening. Marcus might be crazy or delusional, but the man was lethal in combat. The dead mobsters had been very real. I couldn’t let him murder a bunch of cosplayers in the middle of the city.

I shouldered my way to Marcus, earning my share of dirty looks and not caring about a single one of them. “What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded.

Marcus’s eyes bored into the cosplayer’s, who looked like this was no longer fun and games. Smart man. “What’s with this dude?” the cosplayer asked me. “Does he really think I’m challenging him to a fight? Because I’m not. I figured this would just be good for pictures.”

I grimaced. “Your costume is awesome. My friend is just a fan of the show.” I hoped the compliment was enough to keep the space monster from screaming for security. I laid my hand on Marcus’s elbow. “Don’t be an idiot,” I whispered to him. “Do you want to meet Cameron Cruze or not?”

“I cannot allow this beast to roam free among the multitudes!” Marcus proclaimed. He reached down toward the hilt of his magic sword.

“Whoa, man,” the cosplayer said. “Take it down like five notches. I don’t know what your deal is, but look.” He removed his headpiece, revealing a normal forehead under the characteristic ridged protrusion. “I’m just a guy, all right? Just a guy wearing some funky clothes. Like you. My name’s Kevin.”

Marcus, clearly flummoxed, seemed to come back to his senses. “Ah, yes,” he stammered. “Right.” He inclined his head. “I apologize, good citizen Kevin. I was too far into character. I will refrain from this state in the future.”

“I appreciate it, my dude.” Kevin held out his hand. “Kinda can’t blame you with armor like that.”

They shook hands, and Kevin snapped a selfie beside Marcus. That was one crisis averted, but we had to be way more careful not to draw so much attention to ourselves.

Marcus let me lead him away to a chorus of boos from the disappointed spectators. “These costumes are deceptive,” Marcus said. He sounded sheepish, as if he really did know he’d gotten carried away. “It is hard for me to discern which of them is a legitimate cause for concern.”

“Try none of them,” I said. “It’s a pretty good rule of thumb. Let’s try to grab something to eat. There’s still an hour or so before we can go see our friend, the action star.”

“Yes.” Reminded of his purpose, Marcus stood up straighter and squared his shoulders. “Let us feast.”

“You go sit over there, and don’t move. I’ll handle the food situation.” Before leaving him, I grabbed his arm. “I’m serious, Marcus. Don’t move. We’ll get thrown out if you cause any more trouble.”

He nodded gravely. “I will restrain myself. I promise.”

“Good. See you in a few.”

I bought burgers and fries for us, plus a couple of drinks. When I finally arrived back at the spot where I’d told Marcus to wait, I found him holding a baby in the crook of his arm.

The laughing parents took a snapshot, got their kid back, thanked the Centurion, and brushed by me.

“This has been a very weird day,” I said under my breath. “Weird as shit.”

Marcus didn’t like the hamburger, but for some reason, he loved the soda. “Carcerum would have been greatly improved by the addition of this beverage.”

“Not really,” I said. “It’s pretty bad for you.”

He waved me away. “Health is of no concern in the realm of the gods. We feasted like gluttons each night without fail.”

“Did you throw it up afterward so you could eat some more?” It was hardly the best choice of conversation over lunch, but I had long since lost my sense of decorum.

He laughed thunderously. “No, no. Kronin’s magic superseded the limitations of the body. Even for humans.”

I smirked. “That also explains how and why you can speak such incredible English.”

He puffed out his chest. “That talent I acquired naturally. My King chose me for more than my skill with a spear. I studied your language for a previous mission I was sent on—albeit some of the dialect has changed over the last several centuries. Kronin demanded much of me, but he gave so much more in return.” His features grew serious. “That is why I must make certain that my sworn obligations are handled properly. It is the only way to honor his greatest of sacrifices.”

“Okay.” I took a bite of my burger, chewed, and swallowed. “But what happens if you meet your hero, and he doesn’t accept?”

“He will,” Marcus said. “He must. I will give him no other option.”

I sincerely hoped I wouldn’t have to find out what he meant by that.

Chapter Thirteen

I was getting used to waiting in lines.

The one for Cameron Cruze wound all the way around the hall, doubling and tripling back on itself. Marcus and I were toward the front of the middle, but we marked the very end of the cutoff.

“Sorry, folks!” a security guard told the disgruntled fans at our backs. “This soldier here is gonna be the last one in. Mr. Cruze is on a tight schedule.”

I let out my breath in a sigh of relief. If we had been just a few minutes later, this entire trip would have been for nothing. I’d already dropped too much to get into the convention. The little bit of money my parents left me was barely enough to keep me afloat. I couldn’t afford to waste it. And I was about to drop another hundred and fifty bucks for a photo with Cameron Cruze.

Who knew a heroic quest would be so damn expensive?

The line crawled at first, but then its pace picked up. As we got closer, Marcus started to fidget. It was worst when he had a direct line of sight to Cruze; he would stare so hard I swore the actor could feel it. I tried to stop him a couple times, but it didn’t matter.

Nothing was going to distract him.

By the time we were two or three people away from the table where Cameron Cruze sat, Hall A was beginning to fill up behind us with the group for the next event. Although I hoped they wouldn’t try to rush us, I knew better. We were the last in line, and I was sure Mr. Cruze would be sick of dealing with fans, no matter how much we paid.

Suddenly, it was our turn. I stepped up to the table slightly behind Marcus, fumbling for something to say. Cameron Cruze smiled at me. His teeth were blindingly white. They had to be fake.

“Hi there, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

That was all it took for me to know how much I didn’t like this guy. For Marcus’s sake, I faked a return smile. “I’m Vic. My friend’s a huge fan of yours.”

“Vic, huh?” Cameron arched his eyebrows. “Funny name for such a pretty girl.”

Some girls might be flattered by getting hit on by a movie star, but I wasn’t into the groupie thing. I pressed my lips together into a thin line. “Yeah, well—”

Marcus interrupted, his impatience finally getting the best of him. “Cameron Cruze!” he boomed.

I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands. Here we go.

“Uh, yeah, that’s me.” The movie star looked a little annoyed to be interrupted while he was trying to get in my pants. I, on the other hand, was grateful for the disruption.

“You are the chosen one,” Marcus declared.

Cameron nodded like the pompous asshole he was. “I mean, yeah. Chosen to look cool on camera and make a shit ton of money.” Cameron flashed me another grin. He was really going for it. I looked away.

“Chosen to carry the legacy of Kronin, Hero-King of the Gods. Now you must duel me in order to prove your worth.”

“What the fuck, Marcus?!” I blurted.

I hadn’t known that a duel was part of the deal, and I cursed myself for not questioning Marcus about it further. Please let this be his version of a joke.

Somehow, I doubted it.

Cameron Cruze looked at me, at Marcus, and at the nearby security guard. He laughed nervously. “How about we take that picture so you guys can get on out of here? I think the next thing is about to start.”

He stood up.

Marcus strode around the table. “No pictures. We must duel. It is part of the sacred contract.”

He reached down and drew the sword. I threw my arm across my face as the blade flared into being. Shouting voices filled my ears.

“What the hell is that thing?” one of the security guards asked. “Who the hell let that in here?”

“Get him out of here, now!” another security guy ordered.

It was hard to tell if they were talking about Cameron or Marcus. I opened my eyes to see the guard lunging for the sword. Marcus drove his elbow back into the guy’s solar plexus, and he instantly collapsed, clutching his chest and wheezing. The other guard caught a stiff arm to the face, which dropped him to the floor, out cold.

“Marcus, stop!” I yelled. “No fighting!”

But Marcus was in his own world, his gaze burning into his would-be opponent’s eyes. Cruze stood frozen behind the table, taking in the glowing sword, the incapacitated guards, and the wave of reinforcements charging into the room. His lower lip trembled. If I hadn’t been consumed by a mix of confusion, adrenaline, and panic, I would have cracked up.

Cameron Cruze, hotshot action hero and would-be savior of all humanity, was about to cry like a baby.

He gave me one last fearful glance, eyes glistening and split, sprinting toward a side entrance. I swore I heard him sob a little.

It sort of reminded me of Rocco in the bar, except I had zero desire to chase him. Good riddance.

While I watched the action hero flee, a guard grabbed me by the elbow. It was not a smart decision.

My brief training kicked in, and I spun, ripping my elbow free and landing a solid left hook across the man’s cheek. He stumbled backwards into a table and crashed to the floor.

“Get on the ground!” Both of us pivoted to face the new surge of guards that had come in behind us. The rest of the giant room was in chaos. Everyone clamored to get an eyeful of the action, but with Cameron Cruze departed, there was only me—and Marcus holding a mythical sword.

“Put down your weapon!”

Marcus did not put it down. The next thing I heard was a distinctive electric clattering. Marcus let out a roar, and then he joined his conquests on the floor.

I knelt of my own volition. It seemed like the most prudent option. Handcuffs were clicked around my wrists, and I was led out by the chain. Marcus was being dragged behind me.

“Nothing to see here, folks,” one of the guards said while the others formed a perimeter. “Move along. The next event will proceed as scheduled.”

The female wing of the holding center was empty except for me and a strung-out girl with wide, staring eyes and jittery limbs. She was clearly hopped up on something, and I didn’t care to find out what it was. The cop who escorted me in had the judicious sense not to put me in the same cell as her. It was a small comfort.

I sat down on the bunk as the cell door slammed shut.

“I’ll be back in a minute with an update on your friend,” the officer said. She was smirking. “Then you can make your phone call. Okay?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Fine.”

She left. I seethed in silence, gripping the edge of the shitty mattress so hard my knuckles turned white, and glowering a hole in the bare concrete floor. Across the way, the girl with the shakes got up and stumbled over to her bars.

“Hey. Hey, you.”

I ground my teeth. I was in no mood to be talking to anyone about anything, much less an addict in her state. But I knew her type as well as I knew any other type on the streets. She was going to be tenacious. In our current location, there’d be no getting rid of her.

“Who, me?” I sat back against the wall and looked at her with my eyes half shut, making my face a mask of contempt.

“Yeah.” She tried to smile, exposing a mouthful of startlingly yellow teeth, like she used butter instead of toothpaste. “You getting sprung?”

I shrugged. “Probably. Don’t know when, though.” I had been left hanging before, and with Marcus likely still dazed from his taste of taser shocks, I doubted my policewoman would be back soon.

The woman nodded. “Do you think you could bail me out, too? Just say we’re friends. Say you know me. They’ll buy it.”

“They wouldn’t buy that shit in a million years,” I answered. “And, no. I don’t know you. We’re not friends.”

Little Miss Crackpot giggled quietly. “You’re a real hard-ass, you know that? I like it.”

“Thanks. I’ll say a prayer for you when I get home.”

After that, the girl slunk back to her corner and fell into a withdrawal-induced trance. I could practically hear her bones rattling under her skin.

This day just kept getting better and better.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

I roused myself from the uneven doze I’d fallen into. I didn’t remember falling asleep. It was surprising how much I could ignore under the right circumstances.

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and blinked at the figures outside my cell door. “How’s Marcus?” I asked. “Can I make my call now?”

“He’s gonna be a little while.” The cop smirked whenever she talked about Marcus. I found myself hoping they weren’t giving him too hard a time, wherever he was. “No calls yet. You’ve got a special visitor.”

“What are you talking about?” I frowned. It was unlikely that Jules had already discovered I’d been arrested at a comics convention, and the only other people I knew who would visit me in jail had been dead for five years.

“Sorry,” said a voice I recognized instantly. “I have a bad habit of dropping in unannounced.”

Deacon St. Clare stepped forward and smiled at me.

I wanted to shrink into the wall. What the hell was he doing here? What did he want? Even as the questions swirled around my head, I had the sinking feeling that I already knew.

Still, I tried to play it as cool as possible. “Oh, hey,” I said casually, as if we were meeting on the street and not in a jail. “You here to buy me another rum and coke?”

The female cop made her exit. Deacon pulled a chair up to the bars and sat down. He was wearing a full suit today, minus the tie. The top button of his crisp white shirt was open, allowing me a teasing glimpse of his throat. I forced myself not to look below his jawline.

“Gotta hand it to you, Vic,” he began. “I’ve been working this field a while now, and I’ve never heard of someone getting hauled out of a comics convention because their buddy pulled a sword on a movie star.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, it’s been a hell of a day.”

Deacon nodded sympathetically. “I feel you. Unfortunately, I’m not in a position to make your day any better.”

I let the air out of my lungs in one big whoosh. “All right. Lay it on me.” My whole core tensed with anticipation.

He watched me for a moment with a tiny, secretive smile on his lips. Then he said, “There was a shooting a couple nights ago. In a bar that’s a known mob spot.” His chin came to rest on his steepled hands. “I’ve received witness reports identifying the perpetrator as a sexy woman in a tight little dress. High-heeled boots. You know anything about that?”

“A sexy woman you say. And your first thought was to come asking me? I’m flattered.” I batted my eyelashes at him dramatically.

His smile crept higher, but he didn’t say anything.

I shrugged. “What makes you think this mystery woman—who sounds absolutely amazing, by the way—has anything to do with me?”

He leaned in closer to the bars. “The joint belongs to a guy named Rocco Durant. Pretty high up in the criminal scene. A notorious criminal. That name ring a bell for you?”

I didn’t say anything, and Deacon continued. “It should. Five years ago, he orchestrated the murder of Ed and Loretta Stratton. I know those names are familiar to you.”

“What’s your point?” I made sure to keep the edge off my voice, even though what fear I felt was quickly turning to anger.

“All I’m saying is that it would make a lot of sense to me if those two little facts happened to be connected. By one person.”

His eyes burned into mine. My cheeks flushed and tingled. He had me one hundred percent cornered, and he knew it.

I fought back the best I could. “If Rocco Durant was responsible for my parents’ murders, why isn’t he in a jail cell like me?” I asked bitterly. Deacon had no response. “Maybe if you boys in blue got your thumbs out of your asses, you’d arrest real criminals instead of locking up innocent people like me.”

Deacon chuckled. “Be careful what you say, Vic.” There was no meanness in his words, but no slackening of his resolve, either. He reached inside his lapel and pulled something out. It dropped open in his hand. I saw the badge before my mind caught up enough to process what was happening.

“The FBI doesn’t really go for blue,” he said.

Well, shit.

I got up and started pacing the small space. He watched me from his spot on the other side of the bars. He was patient, letting me process.

I looked at him. “So the other night, at the party. That wasn’t flirting—that was an interrogation?”

Deacon cocked his head to the side. “Who says it wasn’t a little bit of both?”

“But you being there, that wasn’t random. You... you infiltrated it to get to me?”

He leaned back, his long legs stretching out before him. “Okay, first off, I didn’t infiltrate anything. Me and your blonde friend do run in the same circles, although I don’t think we had ever met before. But yes, I did go to the party knowing that you were going to be there.”

“How?”

He shrugged. “I’m good at my job.”

“And your job is to investigate me.”

“No.” Deacon jumped to his feet and wrapped his hands around the bars. “I need you to know Vic, that it’s not you I’m after. It’s Durant. I’m going to bring him to justice.”

My heart stopped. Five years ago, I begged the cops to do something, to do anything. But no one listened. And now, this charming young Fed was standing here before me, my knight in shining armor.

It was too good to be true—and too late.

“Well if you’re after Durant, then what are you doing here?” I asked. “Go get the son of a bitch.”

“It’s not that simple, Vic.” He stepped back and picked up where I had left off in the pacing department. “Durant is slimy. I’ve been putting a case together, but the evidence just isn’t conclusive enough. But with your help, I can get what I need to put him away.”

“Put him away?” My words were barely a whisper. Seeing Rocco rot in prison wasn’t the justice I’d been seeking. Connected guys like Rocco rarely went to prison, but when they did, they didn’t suffer. They paid off the guards and the other inmates so that their time inside was like a damn vacation.

Deacon nodded. “Well, yeah. He needs to pay for his crimes, and I’m aiming to make him do it in an eight-by-ten box just like this one.”

“He deserves to be put six feet underground,” I spat.

“Vic, you know it can’t go down like that. But work with me, tell me what you know, and we can finish this thing.”

I looked down at my hands. “No.”

“But—”

“I said no. We’ve talked enough.”

“Vic, you don’t understand.”

I raised my chin and stared daggers back at him. “I’m not saying another word until you get my damned lawyer.”

Chapter Fourteen

There was plenty of time to stew over Deacon as I sat facing the stark concrete wall of my cell. The jig was up between us, and I didn’t know how to feel about it. How I wanted to feel was that he had become my enemy, that we were firmly fixed on opposite sides—me vigilante, him a douchebag with a badge—and there was nothing either one of us could do about it. That was the way it had been with the cops and me.

But that wasn’t the way things were with Deacon. He cared. I could tell he did. And I didn’t understand it at all.

When Jules eventually showed up to bail my ass out, I expected her to be the typical super serious and no-nonsense friend I had come to know. I was ready for her to chastise me for being an idiot and then follow it up with one of her trademark maternal lectures on thinking about my future and bettering myself.

I braced myself accordingly.

Instead, she gave me a big warm smile as the officer let me out. “Hey, you. How was your stay?”

My brain, thrown completely off balance, stuttered a little. “Uh, it could have been better.”

“We’ll leave a mint on your pillow next time,” the female cop quipped. She furrowed her brow at the sheet in front of her. “Now, is it just you who’s out of here, or are you taking your buddy with you?”

This caught Jules’s attention. “Your buddy?” She glanced at me. “Oh, you don’t mean…”

I grimaced. “Actually, this whole thing is his fault. It’s a long story.”

She pursed her lips. “I expect to hear it later.” A small sigh escaped her lips. “All right. We’ll take him, too, if he’s ready.”

“Trust me, he’s ready.”

The cop spoke into her radio, and a few minutes later, a door on the other side of the room opened to reveal Marcus. He carried the pieces of his armor heaped in his arms. Understandably, they had not let him keep it in his holding cell. His face was starting to look old and worn again, a fact which did not escape Jules’s unimpeachable eye for detail.

“Wow,” she whispered to me. “He looks different. And wait. Is he holding a suit of armor?”

I whispered back, “Please don’t ask.”

He carried himself differently, too. Rather than striding, he seemed to shuffle over to us, his shoulders slumped and his eyes downcast. I’d never seen him looking so downright gloomy before. Whatever anger I had harbored toward him began to evaporate as soon as I saw how miserable he evidently was.

“Are you okay?” I asked him.

He nodded without a word.

Once we were out on the street, Jules turned to me. “I’m sorry, Vic. I have to get back to work. I kind of cut out on a huge case to get you.”

“Aww, you didn’t have to do that.” I felt a sting of remorse. “You could’ve let me rot a little while longer. I was just starting to make friends.”

Jules’s smile was pained. “Of course, I couldn’t do that. We’ve been friends for how long?”

“Fourteen years. Almost fifteen.” Since freshman year of high school. Jules had been my anchor through a lot of the worst times in my life.

Her smile softened. “See? That’s a legacy. You’re not going to rot in jail. Plus no one is pressing charges. It seems Mr. Cruze has no desire for any of this to ever see the light of day. Barely took any time at all.”

“Well, I owe you,” I said. “Send me an invoice.”

She laughed, squeezed my hand, and was gone. For a brief moment, I wondered why she hadn’t said anything to Marcus, but then I realized he wasn’t as nearby as he should have been. I found him sitting on the curb by the corner, armor heaped up next to him. He didn’t look up even when I sat down beside him.

“What’s up?” I asked.

It took him a long time to answer, and when he finally found some words, there weren’t very many of them. “I do not understand.”

“Talk to me. Maybe I can help.”

I felt sorry for the guy. Maybe he was a weirdo from the way past, the way future, or whatever god-realm he kept talking about, and maybe tracking a theoretical hero down in a totally foreign world was a little outside my sphere of experience, but I knew what it was like to feel let down.

“How could he not accept the duel?” Marcus wondered out loud. He obviously didn’t expect me to answer, but I let him ask the question. “It is part of the sacred binding words of Carcerum. If the king should fall and the realm be breached, a warrior whose worth is proven in battle shall be selected from the masses.”

Okay, so he didn’t sound any less crazy now than he had before this whole hero deal became a major issue. But since it had fallen through in such a big way, I thought I might be able to talk some sort of sense into him.

“Marcus, have you thought that maybe you won’t find a warrior here? Like, is it possible we just don’t make warriors like you anymore?”

“No.” He was resolute. “The human spirit is not easily altered or broken. There is a warrior here. I know it.”

“Then, could it be that you don’t personally have the greatest sense of who that person might actually be?”

He thought deeply about that one for a few minutes. “Yes.” His broad shoulders slumped again. “When I fought in the old empire, before my service to Kronin, I took great pride in my ability to select superior soldiers from a throng of hundreds. I suppose not all things can endure the test of time.”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Cameron Cruze does his own stunts. In a different time, I bet he would make a great hero. So, you weren’t that far off.”

“Far enough.” Nothing could dissuade Marcus’s dull mood, which was usually as bright and shiny as his armor.

The guy could use a pick me up. I wondered if they had ice cream in his god-realm because that always cheered me up. No one could be in a bad mood digging into a couple scoops of something decadent. Crap, I need ice cream now.

I had just decided to find the nearest Baskin-Robbins when I spotted something out of the corner of my eye that made me turn all the way around. My heart jumped into my throat. Frank, the flunky from Rocco’s bar, shambled down the sidewalk in a ratty overcoat with his huge hands shoved deep into his pockets. I only caught a glimpse of his profile, but it told me everything I needed to know.

He looked rough. Beat up. Prime for some strategic information gathering.

Marcus wasn’t the only one with a mission.

“Stay here,” I said to the Roman. “Don’t move an inch. I just saw something real interesting. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t acknowledge me at all. I jumped to my feet and pursued Frank along the side of the building, staying barely at a safe range. Like Marcus, Frank seemed oblivious to the world around him. He kept his head down around the next two corners, and then, he ducked through the door of a dive even worse than Rocco’s. I wrinkled my nose.

At least Rocco had VIP service in the back. This place looked like even cockroaches avoided it.

Still, Frank might know something too valuable to lose. So, I went in after him.

The place stunk like a live-in ashtray. A “no smoking” sign was tacked above the dingy bar, but it was so blackened by cigarette smoke that I could barely tell what it said. I made the mistake of breathing in too deeply, coughed, and wiped the stinging smoke from my eyes. How did anyone survive in this awful hellhole? Still, I could see silhouettes—presumably living people—through the nasty fog. One of them was Frank.

I was not about to let him get off easy.

He didn’t notice me gliding through the smokescreen to arrive beside his table. He was too busy wiping the lip of his water glass. It was sort of reassuring to see that even he knew the bar was grungy as shit.

“Hi, Frankie,” I said.

He glared me down with red-lined, bleary eyes. “Aww, get the hell out of here, kid. Didn’t you do me wrong enough last time?”

The fact that he recognized me at all was a sign that I might have underestimated him, at least, a bit. I kept that in mind as I leaned over his table, smiling. “Nah. I could have popped you off real easy. I didn’t, but I could have.”

He scowled. “You still throat-fucked me with that gun barrel. I should kill you for that.”

I grinned wider. “You’re welcome to try.”

He seemed to consider it for a second, and then he just slumped in his seat. “The hell do you want, anyways?”

“Same as last time, buddy,” I said. “I need to know where Rocco is.”

“Heh.” He inspected the edge of his glass. “And what makes you think I know something like that?”

“You’re a big guy, Frank.” I gave his generous stomach a friendly pat. “You can hold your own with the big dogs, can’t you?”

“Rocco don’t talk to me,” he replied sourly. “Especially not after I got my ass handed to me by some fresh whore in fancy shoes.” He’d stopped watching me. His guard was down.

I seized the opportunity—literally. My fist clamped down around his family jewels, and Frank’s eyes just about fell out of their sockets. He blew out his cheeks like a pufferfish, looking like he was about to explode.

“Don’t scream,” I told him conversationally. “In fact, don’t do or say anything except what I ask you to. One false move, and you’ll be singing soprano in the church choir.” I grabbed the wadded napkin he’d used to clean his glass and stuffed it in his mouth. “There. For good measure.”

Beads of sweat stood out on his greasy forehead. He held out for a decent time, but once my fingernails dug in, he cried uncle fast. He spit out the napkin. “Rocco’s not here! He’s not anywhere.”

“He’s gotta be somewhere, Frank.” I made my voice as soothing as possible. “Think hard. I’m sure you’ve got it tucked away in some cranny of your massive brain.”

His face turned sulky and resentful. “You’re a real rattlesnake, girlie. Them things you say hurt my feelings.”

“The things I do can hurt more than just feelings, Frank. And if you call me girlie or sweetums,” I squeezed down harder, “or whore again, I’ll hurt you in ways no man can recover from.”

He swallowed. “The boss went underground, all right? Jeezum Crow. He went underground, and ain’t nobody heard shit from him since then. That’s all I can tell you. I swear. Your little shitshow must have spooked him.”

“You better not be lying, or I’ll use that fork as a skewer,” I said. As proof of my seriousness, I grabbed it in my other hand.

Frank winced. “Enough, you damned hellion. The only other thing I know is, there’s some new guy skulking around. Don’t got a name yet, but the boys are saying he’s worse than Rocco. Ten times worse. A hundred times worse.”

“Oh?” That was new and interesting. “You seen him?”

“Only once. He don’t come out during the day. And he looks like he don’t wash his hair, neither. Real scary-like, though. He makes Rocco look like a goddamn altar boy. You can’t just go screwing with him.”

“Who says I’m gonna?”

“Come on, kid. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Frank brought up a hand and pulled at his shirt collar. “Now let my stones out of your vise-grip, will ya? Hell on wheels. I feel sorry for your boyfriend if this is how you handle him.” My face must have been set to mean because he backed off immediately. “Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

“You’re sure Rocco’s hiding?” I demanded.

“He’s sure as hell out of my reach.” Frank adjusted himself and pushed his chair back on its hind legs. He examined me through hooded eyes. “What’s it to you?”

“None of your fucking business is what it is,” I grumbled.

Fucking hell. How could I have let Rocco Durant slip through my fingers like that, only days after getting closer than I had ever been? The reality of it made my heart hurt. I should have finished him off when I had the chance.

“Oh, I getcha.” Frank nodded sagely. “You and Durant have a score to settle.” He picked up the fork and tapped the tines idly against the threadbare tablecloth. “Well, you’re right. That’s none of my business. But a girl like you wouldn’t be in a place like this without one hell of a good reason, eh?” He motioned me closer. “I got an idea. And I’ll tell you if you let go of my balls already.”

I released my grip, making a mental note to wash my hand with bleach after touching Frank’s filthy bean bag. Even then, I might never feel clean again.

“All right, Frankie,” I said. “This better be good, or I’m gonna get mean.”

He held up his hands. “Just relax. The one time I seen that new guy, he was on his way to the place we just bought in the old meat district. Hasn’t been fixed up yet. It’s not your grandmother’s neighborhood.” He glanced around to make sure no one was listening in. “But if I were Rocco Durant, that’s where I’d go.”

I stared deep into Frank’s eyes, searching for any hint of deception and finding none. “Do me a favor and write that down for me, Frankie.” Then I turned toward the bartender. “I need your biggest glass, and I need it filled to the brim with ice. It’s for my new friend here.”

I stood and turned toward the door, palming the slip of paper Frank had scrawled on. Without looking back, I said, “Always a pleasure Frank. See you around.”

The sound of his squeak was all the goodbye I needed.

Chapter Fifteen

Marcus hadn’t listened when I told him to stay put. It wasn’t surprising, but I was a little annoyed nonetheless. No ice cream for him.

I finally found him all the way over near my place, standing in front of Mac’s newspaper stand. The scene was familiar: a grown-ass man making a scene because he couldn’t buy a paper. This time, the underlying problem was different.

“Mister, I can’t sell you a magazine if you don’t have any money,” Mac said, shrugging. “Then I’d just be giving them away, and I can’t afford to do that.”

“And you would refuse my offer of a trade?” Marcus asked incredulously. I had no idea what Marcus had to trade. I imagined him offering Mac a sack of alley cats.

Mac chuckled. “The barter system’s a long way gone, pal. These days, it’s money or nothing.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Just when I thought Marcus was getting a handle on the twenty-first century, I was painfully reminded how much he still had to learn. He really did need my help. Marcus wouldn’t last a day in the city on his own.

Gathering my resolve, I marched up behind Marcus and tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, Wonder Tunic. What’s going on here?”

“I merely wished to exchange with this gentleman for a book, yet he will not allow it!” Marcus spoke with genuine outrage, gesturing broadly at the little stand.

“Right, because like he said, you don’t have money. Lucky for you, I happen to have some.” I fished a couple bills out of my pocket and put the cash on the counter. “Just the magazine for him, Mac. Keep the change. Consider it an inconvenience fee.” Mac raised his bushy eyebrows at me, and I shook my head. “Come on, Marcus. Let’s get home before we end up back behind bars.” I led him away and glanced at the periodical in his hand. “Why’d you want that so bad, anyway?”

He displayed the cover proudly. “Behold! I have found a new hero.”

I rolled my eyes so hard they nearly fell out of my skull. “Okay, first of all, that is not a hero. That is a guy who stars in yogurt commercials for middle-aged women. Second, did you learn nothing from today? Nothing at all?”

“All failure is but a minor setback and must simply be overcome.” Marcus would not take his gaze away from the magazine cover. “We must find this warrior at once. Much time has been lost to other pursuits.”

“Yeah, well I’m glad to see you’re back to your old self, but I’m not about to go traipsing all over New York in search of a handsome sitcom actor turned yogurt spokesperson. I think we’ve done more than enough of your stuff for one day. It’s time for you to help me. I’ve got a lead. It’s a warehouse in the Meatpacking District.”

Marcus shook his head. “I cannot be distracted. More now than ever, I need to be true to my course. The true hero is out there, waiting for me to find him.”

I clenched my fists. “Well, they’re just gonna have to wait a little longer. We had a deal. I help you. You help me. You seem like an honorable guy, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go back on your promise.”

Marcus frowned. “I do not intend to break my oath, Vic, but my quest for a warrior sits above all else.”

I let out a long, slow breath, forcing myself to keep my cool. “You can keep chasing down your damned hero, but you’re going to have to do it without me. I’m chasing down a monster. Maybe it’s not the kind of monster you came to fight, but he’s an evil piece of shit nonetheless. And if you won’t help me, I’ll do it my damn self.”

I spun on my heel and stormed off down the street, fuming. It didn’t sound like he was following, nor did he call out to me as I left. Whatever. I had far more important things to think about at the moment, like the address I had gotten from Frank before leaving the bar.

I headed for the nearest bus stop, reaching into my purse. I felt my wallet, my phone, and a certain sword hilt.

Marcus had never even felt it disappear.

His stories about gods and monsters might be bullshit, but this sword had some serious stopping power. And I was not about to turn down the opportunity to run Durant through with it.

I took up my post by the bus stop marker.

Next stop: sweet justice.

The bus rumbled down Horatio Street at the southern border of the Meatpacking District. The word “meatpacking” sounded vaguely obscene, like one of those jokey sex moves I’d seen on the internet. Like teabagging or the Angry Pirate. If Frankie’s intel was good, someone was going to get screwed today. I just hoped it was Rocco Durant and not me.

The bus pitched and weaved from the driver’s lead foot. There were open seats, but I stood above the stairs leading out the back door. I was way too wired to sit. The address Frank had given me burned in my eyes even when I closed them.

I couldn’t stop thinking, I should have known.

Which was absolutely, one hundred percent crazy. Despite all the legwork I’d done over the past five years, it was still a crapshoot every time. I had to be careful, or else the assholes might start to recognize me. Yeah, I knew my way around the mob scene better than I ever thought I would, but each scrap of the puzzle had a lot of luck mixed in. Too much, maybe.

I’d gotten this far because I was smart and because I had talked to, punched, and hunted down the right people. If they were all instructed to keep the new place hush-hush, then they weren’t going to tell the nosy broad poking around in places she didn’t belong. As soon as Frank mentioned the Meatpacking District, though, things sort of clicked in my head.

Really, where else would the pricks run off to? An old slaughterhouse seemed more or less like Rocco Durant’s natural habitat. I shoved my hands deep in the pockets of my sweatshirt and mentally prepared myself for whatever might be waiting for me. A robotic female voice announced the next stop.

Mine.

Nobody looked up as I stepped off the bus. I turned left and walked a block. The building was a brick-fronted hulk, long, squat, and ugly as sin. A couple of its windows were broken, and in places, the façade had begun to crumble. When Frank said Rocco had just moved in, evidently, he meant it. Rocco Durant never let dumps stay dumps for long. In a month, this place would be cleaned up, a blank slate.

Good thing I was here early.

Three doors—right, left, and center—lined the ground floor. The double set in the middle had a huge, heavy padlock on a boat chain looped through the handles. So, that was out. Even if I could figure out how to pick that thing, with my luck, it would break my foot when it hit the ground. I turned my attention to the sides.

The right was guarded by a couple of roided-up meatheads, their eyes shielded by giant, reflective sunglasses. They looked like wax figures standing there in the shadow of the overhang with their arms crossed in front of them. One of them held a serious-looking gun. It was currently pointed down at the ground.

I sure as hell didn’t want it pointed at me.

It was hard to tell where Thing One and Thing Two were looking on account of the sunglasses. Their inhumanly chiseled faces pointed away from me for the moment, so I continued strolling casually along the sidewalk, pretending to mind my own business. I had the distinct feeling that lingering too long would be a death sentence.

Fortunately, the guards on the left were hardly as attentive as their gym-bro counterparts. In fact, they barely looked old enough to drink, let alone to be hanging around an abandoned slaughterhouse that had been recently purchased by the mob.

I watched them trade hits from a hand-rolled cigarette with a telltale skunky smell. They took their eyes off their phone screens maybe once a minute.

Perfect time for a little recon.

They didn’t see me slide into the alley running adjacent to the building. I picked my way through a minefield of trash bags, trying not to think about what I might plunge my foot into if I misstepped. The stink assaulting my nose could have peeled paint off a wall, and I wished I had thought to bring something to cover my face. It probably would have been smart to hide my appearance, too, but there was nothing to do about that now.

The passage was unguarded, probably because no one wanted to wade through garbage or linger in the stink. No one but me. It ended at a short wall, which I hopped over, and I found myself in a narrow courtyard lined with dumpsters. I ducked through a buzzing cloud of flies, grimacing.

“Nice place you got here, Rocco,” I muttered.

Around the corner, the space opened up into a series of loading docks. The area was deserted, but movement caught my eye up in the bank of dirty windows on the second floor. My breath caught in my throat, and I ducked down behind one of the dumpsters.

I squinted. The caked-on dust made it hard to identify the figure standing with his back to the glass. Then, he made a half turn toward me, and I knew who it was.

Rocco fucking Durant.

All I wanted to do was turn around and haul ass inside, but this time, I managed to exercise restraint. Maybe I hadn’t really expected him to be here because I had rushed over unprepared.

Rocco was right in front of me, and I didn’t even have my gun or any proper weapon. All I had was Marcus’s sword, and who knew if that would come through for me again? What seemed like a great idea twenty minutes ago now seemed delusional. I could barely wield my training sword, let alone go up against trained guards. And what if I couldn’t get the sword to work? Maybe it had rules or some shit, like it wouldn’t activate unless I was in a life or death situation. I didn’t know.

And I couldn’t risk it.

I slunk back toward Dumpster Alley, steeling my senses against the onslaught of rancid fumes. My eyes kept darting back toward the window with Rocco Durant in it, but by the second or third glance, he was gone.

Something other than my customary burning hatred of him was nagging at me, and it wasn’t until I was back on the street that I figured out the problem.

I had shot him. I knew I had shot him. Twice. The last time I saw him, he was bloody and looked like shit.

Not anymore.

He looked fine. Better than fine. He looked like he’d stepped into a time machine set for ten years ago.

I wiped the intense frown off my face as I ambled down toward the end of the block. On my way across the street, I spotted a car pulling up to the curb, depositing a couple of suits with girls on their arms. I only caught a glimpse of them before they headed toward the door on the right, but it didn’t take a genius to work out what they were going to do. A sour taste filled my mouth as I pulled open the door of the bodega on the corner.

I didn’t want to let Rocco’s building out of my sight, but there was no good place to hide, and I couldn’t just double back immediately. I had to waste some time.

Twenty minutes later, I left the store with a dollar coffee in my hand, giving the fat tabby perched in the front window a farewell scratch behind the ears. It seemed prudent to stay on the opposite side of the street from Rocco’s building as I made my way toward it, so I looked as inconspicuous as possible. I stared straight ahead, but all my attention was focused in my peripheral vision.

No sign of the goons who’d brought in their girls. No sign of Rocco, either.

The guards at each door hadn’t budged.

I had drawn almost even with them on the left when I heard the scream.

Chapter Sixteen

It was unmistakable, a silence-shattering shriek that cut through the broken window panes like a laser. It was a scream of pain and terror. I froze and then turned to stare at the worn brick façade before I could help myself. One of the guards jumped, but the other didn’t even look up. My gaze danced from window to window, trying to pick out the source of the scream.

Now, it seemed like that layer of grime served a purpose.

I gritted my teeth. The sword hilt felt like an iron weight in my bag. It still wasn’t my gun, but it was better than nothing. And clearly, whatever was happening inside Rocco Durant’s new digs, those girls were not enjoying it. I had to help them. It was now or never.

I booked it across the street without looking for traffic. Those two shitty men never saw me coming. I pushed the first one into the wall, hard enough that he crumpled up, gasping for air.

“Hey!” said the other one. “Hey! What the hell are you doing, lady?”

Up close, I saw that I’d been right about his age. Only the finest of facial hairs graced his scraggly chin, and his cheeks were a warzone of acne. No way could I kill him, but I could knock him out guilt-free.

“Sorry, bud,” I said.

He had approximately half a second to look confused before I hit him square in the head with the butt of the sword. His backward-turned cap slipped sideways as he fell.

I stepped over his unconscious body. Without a doubt, there were already cameras everywhere; surveillance was always Rocco’s first priority. It was how he’d always stayed a step ahead of me, even when I managed to get the drop on him. He’d know I was there soon enough.

And I’d already beaten on two teenaged guards, so I was fully committed to this little adventure.

I glanced behind me as I reached for the doorknob. When I turned back, my face collapsed in an expression of total dismay. Instead of a handle, the door had a keypad recessed into the metal.

“Codes,” I whispered. “Why didn’t I think of codes?”

Just for shits and giggles, I punched a few numbers into the display. My reward was a loud, accusatory beep. Maybe not the smartest idea.

I sighed, tightened my grip on Marcus’s sword, which remained bladeless, and got ready to bash the ever-loving hell out of the keypad. It was way too late to back out now. With any luck, I could brute force my way through the locking mechanism.

The sound of another car interrupted my downward swing. I nearly smacked myself in the face with that damn hilt as I spun around out of pure instinct to see who was coming up behind me. This car was black, too, but much nicer than the first. A luxury car, probably foreign, with its windows all blacked out.

The door opened.

I caught a glimpse of a shoe and the bottom of a black duster. Then, my eye seemed to snap right to a gaunt, sallow face. He had long dark hair, parted in the middle with comb tracks still visible along his lean skull.

He was staring right at me.

I panicked and froze. Why couldn’t I do anything? Why couldn’t I move? My feet might as well have been rooted to the ground. His huge, eerily pale eyes floated up toward the sword still raised in my hand, and a ghost of some emotion swarmed over his face. His own hand began to lift from his side.

Why hadn’t he said anything yet?

“Vic!”

Both of us, me and the creep in the duster, turned toward that familiar voice. Marcus charged down the middle of the street like a bull, armored up with a spear in hand. He cocked his arm and threw it so hard, I heard the point whistling through the air.

The stranger’s hair flipped back at his ear as he leapt out of the way. Marcus’s spear embedded itself in the fancy car with a screaming crunch of metal. Stunned, I stared at its shaft, still vibrating as it protruded from the wrecked chassis.

Marcus reached me a second later. For an old guy, he could run like hell. He seized me around the waist and started to drag me away. I realized my quest for vengeance was about to be thwarted for the second time in a week, and both times were Marcus’s fault.

If he was so set on a war, I’d give him one.

“Let me go!” I screeched as fiercely as I could. I pushed and scratched at the arm he had locked around me, but even my sharp, ragged nails had no effect on his gauntlets. “He’s in there! Do you hear me? He’s in there!”

My protests fell on deaf ears, so I twisted around in order to shout in Marcus’s face better. I saw that his eyes were dark, and his mouth was set in a grim line. If I hadn’t been so unbelievably pissed, I might have been worried, but I was unbelievably pissed, so worry fell to the wayside.

“Put me down, you Roman douchewaffle!”

As a last resort, I went dead limp, hoping the task of carting my body around would prove more frustrating than it was worth.

Marcus was undeterred. He paused to adjust his grip, and then he just kept trucking. I could scream and cry and swear at him all damn day, as far as he was concerned. We were getting out of there.

I stopped fighting eventually, and after about a half mile, he let me go. I shoved away from him with all the force and petulance of a scorned lover, making sure my displeasure was written all over my face.

He didn’t look at me, but as he dusted off his hands and pulled ahead, he said, “There are many things you do not understand, Vic.” A short pause. “I have just saved your life.”

Of all the wrong things in the world to say, that was pretty close to the top of the list. I folded my arms. “Oh, please. Tell me all about how you rescued me from those punks who were drooling on the ground when you showed up.”

He drew his brows down in a gesture of obvious exasperation that I found extremely satisfying. “I am not referring to those boys you so judiciously dispatched with my sword.”

“What, you mean the toothpick in the coat?” I downplayed the effect that strange guy had just had on me for bravado’s sake. I didn’t want Marcus to know he had stopped me with nothing more than a stare from those paralyzing eyes. In fact, I didn’t even want to think about that. It made me severely uncomfortable to know some scrawny nerd had effectively disarmed me without a weapon of his own.

Marcus sighed. “As I said, you do not understand.” His tone was long-suffering, like I was the one trying his patience. Yet another thing that pissed me off.

“Whatever,” I said. “Apparently, I don’t understand anything.”

He glanced at me. I wasn’t even close to looking at him, but I felt it. “Apparently, you do not, despite how I have tried to warn you. This world—your world—is no longer what it once was. The gods have arrived, and you have stared one in the face.”

We walked the three and a half remaining miles back to Brooklyn Heights in silence, each of us embroiled in our own thoughts. When we got back to the loft, I let the door slam shut behind me, and the windows rattled. I was still pissed.

Marcus went over and installed himself at the table, and I slouched my way to the bed. For several more minutes, we gave each other the silent treatment. I knew he was waiting for me to break under the pressure of not knowing anything, and I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

But I was only human. I couldn’t stand it forever.

“So, are you going to explain or not?” I kept my back to him, staring a hole in the wall. “How I stared a god in the face?”

Marcus shifted in his chair. His armor clanked jarringly. All of a sudden, he seemed reluctant to fill me in. “Where shall I begin?” he asked.

“Anywhere you want. I’m the one who doesn’t understand anything.” I laid back on the mattress and closed my eyes, but the image of the guy in the duster appeared behind my eyelids with unsettling clarity. I felt almost like he could still see me. I settled for counting the hairline cracks in the ceiling.

Marcus hemmed and hawed a little while longer. I waited as patiently as possible, but my fuse was running short. He had dicked me around a hell of a lot with all his talk about supernatural bullshit, and I was determined to get to the bottom of it since he was so determined to stick around. If he was a crazy vagrant after all, I had a right to know.

“Technically, the man in the metal chariot was a demigod,” he said at last.

Great.

“So he’s a demi-god now?” I retorted. “That’s quite the downgrade. What’s next? You’ll tell me he’s just a creepy dude who needs to get out of his mom’s basement? I mean, tell me the truth, Marcus. Is any of this real, or are you just making it all up as you go along?”

When he spoke, his voice was low and tough, unlike anything I’d heard from him before. “Perhaps I was wrong about you, Vic. I thought you were determined, resilient, and possessed of an inner strength that was admirable, if misguided.

“But you are too weak to face the truth. Everything I have told you is real, but you refuse to open your eyes and see it. You are too consumed with your untenable notions of vengeance to focus on what is really happening.” His chair scraped against the floor as he rose to his feet. “Days ago, I told you that revenge never helps. I vowed to teach you. Now, I see that you have learned nothing.”

I sat bolt upright on the mattress, glaring daggers at him. “Well, maybe you’re just a crappy teacher.” I stood up from the bed. “You think I haven’t learned anything, huh? We’ll see about that.”

I snatched my training sword off the floor and charged him.

Chapter Seventeen

I heaved the sword back and let out a cry full of frustration and anger. The dull wooden blade chopped through the air and was met by Marcus’s expert counter, raining chips down onto the floor. He had a perfect answer for every erratic movement I threw at him, even when I was certain there was no way for him to predict my wild flailing. The heavy thock of our sparring resonated in my body, thrumming down through my feet into the floor.

I struck out again and again. Marcus blocked again and again. He maneuvered around me on nimble feet, his eyes never leaving my swinging blade. I managed, through trial, error, and a bit of dumb luck to weasel him back toward a corner of the apartment where my sad, makeshift punching bag still stood.

Marcus bumped his elbow against it.

Though minor, the collision threw him off enough that in order to regain his balance, he was forced to leave his side exposed. Seizing the opportunity, I lunged forward and brought my weapon solidly into what would have been his ribcage if he hadn’t twisted away at the last moment. The wooden sword bit into the edge of his back.

I let out a yell of triumph.

Instead of swiveling toward me with a swift, decisive counter, Marcus fell to a knee.

I gasped. He grunted, shielding the spot where I had hit him. Too late, I recalled the black wound he had when I found him. All the anger fled my system in favor of remorse. I couldn’t tell which felt worse.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Are you okay?”

He gestured vaguely in the direction of the table. “Flask. My flask.”

“Right.” I swiped it from the table, opened the top, and handed it to him. I could have sworn it had been much heavier the last time I held it.

He took a long drink. “Thanks.” Almost instantly, the color bled back into his skin. His hair darkened, its threads of silver disappearing. Marcus straightened and then let himself sit heavily back.

“Better?” I asked, somewhat sheepishly.

“Better.”

“The flask feels light,” I said. Vic Stratton, champion of the obvious. He waved me off, and I plopped down beside him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Worry not, Vic.” A slight smile eased the severity of his features. “It just proves that I am at least not a worthless pedagogue.” He patted me gently on the shoulder. “I owe you an apology as well. Anger is no excuse for the hurtful barbs I have thrown.”

I nodded. “Hurtful, but more or less correct. I’ve got a lot to work on.”

It didn’t feel so bad admitting that to him now. The monster of rage and pain had been safely locked away.

“If it helps, I was wrong about being wrong. You are strong, you are determined, and you are certainly resilient. That is admirable.”

A lump threatened to form in my throat. “Thanks, man.” I rubbed my face to keep any tears from getting the wrong idea. “Thanks, Marcus.”

His smile widened. “It is an honor to put up with you, Vic.”

We laughed. It felt good. Great, even.

“I’m glad that stuff makes you feel better, whatever it is,” I said.

“As am I.” He fell silent then, thinking deeply. “There is one more thing for which I must offer my penitence.”

“Just one?” My grin made it clear I was joking.

“No matter what my personal feelings on the matter are, it is not my place to interfere with your mission against these foes. However, it would have been disastrous had you been killed and the Gladius Solis taken by the wrong hands. This is the reasoning I should have offered at the outset. I was erroneous in believing you would not understand. The sword is more important than me—more important than anything.”

I nodded but said nothing as we lapsed into another silence. Then I said, “Did you find the yogurt commercial guy?”

He snorted. “I think my quest to find a hero will have to wait. There are more immediate concerns that require my attention. The injustices befalling our two worlds have intersected at last. Perhaps in vanquishing your nemesis and learning of the gods’ new scheme on Earth, I will find my hero.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Does this have something to do with the guy at the slaughterhouse?”

Marcus paused. “Why do you call it that?” He watched me keenly, as if he thought I might be hiding something.

“What? That’s what it used to be. You know, for like, beef and stuff.”

“I see.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Are you inquiring because you have chosen to accept the facts of my presence here on Earth?”

“Hell no, but I’m willing to listen to your story. So make it good.”

He shrugged. “I suppose the trials of the gods would make for a compelling tale among humans, yes. Had I learned of it in the way you have, I might have felt the same.”

“There you go, see?” I leaned back on my hands. “And we’re all the way up to the massive, world-ending battle, so you can’t leave me hanging now. Tell me about this asshole in black. Does he know Rocco?”

I already knew the answer to that. Why else would he be showing up at Rocco’s newest hangout? I couldn’t make sense of it, though, and for the first time, I was willing to admit that maybe Marcus could clear things up.

Maybe.

“He is a demigod, as I have said.” Marcus ran his fingers over the carved pattern in the surface of his flask. “In Carcerum, we called them Apprenti. They are, for lack of a more appropriate expression, servants of the greater gods. Each greater god has many, and their term of service is infinite.”

“Shitty gig,” I remarked.

“Indeed, it would seem so. But Apprenti are powerful beings in their own right, no matter their origin. Some were human, and some were other types of creatures. Most are abominations. And all are in the thrall of their parent god. They live to carry out the greater god’s ultimate purpose, whatever it may be.”

“So, you’re saying that guy has a boss, and I’m guessing that boss is bad news.”

“The demigod we witnessed is known most often as Delano.” Marcus turned the flask over in his hands. “His greater god is Lorcan.”

“And remind me, Lorcan is the god of what?” I asked. “Being an enormous dick?”

“In profane human terms, yes.” Marcus allowed himself a grim smirk. “He is a master of darkness and deceit. He would call himself a master of death as well, but that particular power eludes him. Still, he is not to be trifled with. If his most loyal servant is roaming the city, it can mean no good for anyone. The two of them must be stopped.”

“That seems easy,” I said. “God of darkness with an insanely strong right-hand man? No problem.” If true, this whole setup made Rocco and his goons look like peanuts in comparison. But most of me remained unconvinced. The guy was creepy as balls, but a demigod? I just couldn’t wrap my head around that.

“This is why no general rushes into battle without a plan.” Marcus pushed up into a standing position, then offered me his hand. I took it. “Our first objective is to locate an old acquaintance of mine. I have much to discuss with him. But before that can commence, I need something.”

“Oh, so we’re a team now?” I elbowed him gently. “Nice to know it just took some good, old-fashioned dirty fighting for you to think of me as a partner.”

I made light of the crippling blow to his wound, mostly to assuage the guilt I felt about it. At least his wonder drink had him ready to go again.

He headed for the door, motioning for me to follow. At the door, he stooped to scratch the cat, who had crept out of hiding. “I value your counsel, Vic. And you strike viciously. You are a good asset on the field of battle, provided you are on the correct side.”

“Thanks, I think.” I checked my purse and hesitated. “Do you have your sword?”

He indicated his belt. “You were too busy kicking at me to notice I had taken it back. I think that means we are even.”

“I guess so.”

Ever the gentleman, Marcus let me exit the apartment first.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Back to the water. I have left something behind.”

The docks looked only slightly more hospitable in the rapidly fading twilight than they had in the dead of night. We arrived there using more conventional means this time, with only mild trespassing. I made Marcus stop and wait for a few minutes, just so I could make sure the police weren’t still snooping around.

A patch of ground near the base of the pier was stained a dull, rusty red. I chose not to dwell on it. Those men had gotten what they deserved.

“You are certain it was here?” Marcus asked. “I confess that I cannot readily remember the events of that night.”

“Trust me,” I said. “I can.” I led him out to the end of the structure, and we stared into the gray depths of the river. “I spotted you just out there.” I pointed. “Right after that meteor lit up the sky.”

Marcus grinned. “I do know how to make an entrance.”

I grinned back, granting him his bullshit story. We had work to do, after all.

His eyes searched the water. “How did you locate me? I assume I must have sunk rather quickly.”

“The sword was glowing. I could see the shape of it like a beacon at the bottom of the river, lighting up the deep shadows. If it wasn’t for that thing, I might’ve had to abandon you.”

“I see. I am grateful.” Without further ado, Marcus removed his armor and stripped off his tunic. “Wait here. I will return shortly.”

“Try not to freeze down there.” It made me cold just looking at him, and I was thankful that he didn’t need a diving partner. One impromptu trip off the end of that pier was good enough for me.

I watched him dive into the river with surprising grace and disappear. The water seemed to swallow him whole. I hoped his wound wouldn’t reactivate or somehow incapacitate him while he was underwater.

Less than an hour ago, we’d been at each other’s throats, and now I was worried about him. Life had a funny way of twisting things around. At this point, we only had each other, and I needed his help as much as he needed mine. Besides, despite his eccentricities, I liked the guy.

Marcus was gone for what felt like an inhumanly long time. I kept my gaze fixed on the choppy surface of the river, peering down for any sign of him. What the hell was he looking for anyway? I wished I’d had the forethought to ask him. As usual, forethought was not my strong suit.

I was just getting ready to kick off my boots and dive in after him when I saw his head break the surface a few yards out from the initial site of entry. He did not appear to be carrying or dragging anything; he swam toward the dock with both arms. I was ready to help him out, but he hopped onto the dry concrete like a seal, wiping drops of water from his eyes.

“It is cold,” he said.

“I tried to warn you.” I picked up his tunic and held it out. He stood up, did his best to shake off the river water, and shrugged back into it. “I don’t think it’s cold enough for you to get hypothermia, but we should probably get somewhere warm, sooner rather than later. You were in there a long-ass time.”

“Yes.” He shook himself again. “But my hunt was miraculously successful.” He reached beneath the tunic and drew up a golden chain in his fist. A medallion dangled from the shining links, engraved with a coat of arms.

“That’s it?” I asked, genuinely bewildered.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’ This medallion is crucial to the next phase of our plan.”

“How? You think that bling is gonna get you into a club downtown?” I sort of laughed at my own lame joke, but, of course, Marcus didn’t get it. He ignored my sass completely.

“It is evidence of my association with Kronin in the highest order. I wore it when I would carry out his missions. It is an irrefutable symbol of my authority.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I said. “Let’s go. You’re starting to soak through your tunic.”

We went out the way we came, thankfully undetected. When we were safely back on normal pedestrian thoroughfares, Marcus patted his chest proudly. “This medal is a family heirloom, Vic. It is said to keep the spirits of my father and our ancestors close, should I need them.” His face grew solemn. “It was of much comfort to me during the early days of my transition.”

The subject felt a little heavy, so I elected not to press. “How long does it take that thing to dry?” I made a motion toward his tunic. It had soaked up most of the moisture and now hung on his frame like a sack.

He shrugged. “Its condition does not concern me. The garments of Carcerum are impervious to wear.”

“Right. Then what do you say we stop in somewhere for a drink? I think we could both use one.”

“I would be pleased to do so.” He bundled up his armor and tucked it under his arm.

“Awesome,” I said. “Just promise me, no duels with strangers, okay?”

Chapter Eighteen

“Another!” Marcus bellowed.

A crowd was forming around us, and it sent up a cheer every time Marcus called for a new round in his trademark boisterous manner. He was a hit everywhere he went; people just drank up his friendly craziness. I couldn’t help losing myself in the atmosphere of camaraderie he so effortlessly created. If he had been a soldier, he must have been a great one.

The bartender passed over another couple of shots. It was a familiar scenario, except I had no friend to water it down. These were full strength. But I also wasn’t playing a deadly game this time, just a normal drunken one. With my weird, but lovable friend in a damp tunic.

Marcus tipped his shot glass back, drained it in a gulp, and set it on the bar with a decisive clink. He nodded at me encouragingly. “Take your turn, Vic! I trust you are not yet bested?”

“Hardly.” I took mine even faster, relishing the burn of the whisky down my throat. The crowd whistled and cheered. “Again?”

“Again.” Marcus signaled to the bartender, who passed over two more shots with arched eyebrows.

“I’m not responsible if this gets out of hand,” he told us. “But it’s a hell of a show, and it’s driving my tips up like crazy.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m real good at holding my liquor.” This much was true. Between the years of recon in grimy bars and the pathological drinking to forget my past, I’d become a regular human keg. Eight shots in, I was only starting to feel it fuzzing the edge of my mind.

For once, the sensation was pleasant instead of desperate. I was secure with someone I, at least, half trusted. And I was not on the hunt.

The shot exchange went on until Marcus tapped out at twelve, leaving me the unequivocal victor in our little match. I stood up a bit unsteadily and raised my hands above my head. The crowd, now triple the size it had been when we started hours earlier, roared.

Marcus grinned at me. His eyes were a little glazed, but he looked as happy as I’d ever seen him. “I am truly astounded, Vic,” he said. “And impressed. And defeated.”

“Yes! Yes, you are. You’re welcome.” I took the tab from the barkeep and had to look at it three times until the numbers made sense. “Hold on.”

The gears ground in my head. Shit. Do I have that much money? I dug around in my bag for my wallet, which was alarmingly slim. There were two fifties left in the billfold, plus another few twenties. I looked again at the bill. Just barely.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, sweets.” A burly guy in a leather jacket slapped some bills on the bar. “Ain’t every day you get a show like that around here. I figure it’s fair price for the entertainment.”

“Don’t call me sweets,” I told him. “But thanks. I won’t forget it.”

He laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

Half an hour later, Marcus and I weaved our way out the door and down the street, aiming in the general direction of my place. He had downed half a pitcher of water and a pull from his flask. By the time we hit the stairs, he was more sober than I was.

“Are you all right?” he asked, the amusement bare in his voice. “It would be no trouble to carry you.”

“Don’t you dare,” I growled good-naturedly. “I’m fine.” He went ahead of me to the door, and I clung to the railing like a sailor to the gunwale of a pitching ship. “If I have to puke when we get inside, you can’t look, okay? That’s gross.”

Marcus chuckled. “I promise. I am only concerned with getting you to rest. We must make an early start tomorrow.”

“What?” I stopped where I was, staring up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me that before we decided to go shot for shot?”

He held up his stupid magic flask. “Because I had a failsafe.”

“That’s cruel.” I stumbled onto the landing, and he guided me through the door. The cat, woken from its nap atop my mattress, hurried out of the way as soon as it caught sight of me falling toward the bed.

The last thing I remembered was Marcus pulling a blanket over me. “See you at sunrise,” he said. I thought he was joking.

He wasn’t.

Actually, the loft was still dark when he roused me from the cocoon I had built in my sleep, nudging me with the end of a practice sword from a safe distance.

“What do you want?” I demanded. My voice was low and gravely, and it was a blessing that there was no light yet. All the shots I’d so confidently taken the night before had migrated up into my head and were knocking on my eyeballs. I groaned plaintively. “Marcus, I thought we were friends.”

“We are.” He nudged me again. “This is helping you. Trust me.”

“I don’t trust you at,” I pawed for my phone and squinted into its glaring screen, “six in the morning. What time did we get back last night?”

“I do not know,” he lied, smiling. “It matters not. I warned you that we must get an early start today. Your training is of the utmost importance.”

“My training? Oh, hell no.” I went to bury myself back in the blanket, but he prodded me mercilessly until I got up. “Fine. Fine! Just let me drink some water first.”

A glass and a half later, I picked up my training sword and stood in front of him, eyelids still drooping. “Let’s get this over with.”

Marcus said it wasn’t as brutal as it felt, but by the time we actually left the loft, I was tired all over again and sore, to boot.

“You are improving nicely,” he insisted, leading me down the still-darkened street.

“Yeah, yeah.”

I couldn’t deny that all the physical activity seemed to be helping. My sword moved with a greater purpose. It found its targets more often. Also, I noticed that I felt better about myself. Less stupid. Less like a caged animal just fighting to survive.

More like an assassin.

“Where are we going?” I called after Marcus, trotting to keep up. “And what are you doing?”

He was all over the place, checking tons of weird places for something. Under trash can lids, in dark, scary corners, in the pockets of dead-end alleyways. Every now and then, he’d stand still and gaze at the fading night sky, calculating something in his head.

He fished in a pocket of his tunic and came up with a roll of brown paper which expanded into a map. I peered over his shoulder. “Where is this? Carcerum?”

He shook his head absently. “This is your city, before it was a city.”

“What? No way.” I made a grab for it, but he moved the paper deftly out of my reach. “No fair. Let me see.”

In response, he tilted it toward me from a distance.

It looked nothing like the New York I knew. I didn’t understand most of the symbols on more than a vague level, but Marcus clearly did. He looked between the stars and his map for a moment, then turned slightly and headed in a new direction. “This way.”

“How can you tell?” I asked. “That map is ancient.”

Marcus smiled. “Some things never change.”

His orienteering led us down a meandering path in which I failed to see the logic. We passed bars, boutique shops, garages, and subway stations. Every time I asked, Marcus wouldn’t tell me what he was searching for. Finally, I made him stop on the sidewalk and talk to me.

“Dude, I know you’re in the zone right now or whatever, but as long as I’m here, I might as well help. So, tell me what exactly is going on, please.”

“Right.” He scratched his head. “I apologize. But let us keep moving while we converse.” He kept consulting the map, pausing every so often to mutter to himself. “The base of the truth is this: long ago, when gods and their ilk walked the earth, they existed among all manner of other creatures. Today, the creatures, as well as the gods themselves, are little more than memories. They have been forgotten by your world.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “And what exactly are these Forgotten like? They wear armor and talk strange like you?”

“They are difficult to classify. As varied as their species were, so were their temperaments, and their crimes against the rightful inhabitants of Earth.”

“That would be humans?”

“Good, you are learning.” Marcus patted me on the shoulder. “So, when the time came that Kronin banned the greatest of the Forgotten to Carcerum, he gave these lesser beings a choice: to join him in Carcerum or to stay among the denizens of the Earth. A significant number of them chose to stay.”

“Here? Why?” I glanced at our surroundings. They were hardly appealing.

Then again, I was biased.

Marcus thought for a minute. “There was a rift between the greater and lesser Forgotten, between those with tangible power and those who got along under the surface, making their way by staying inconspicuous. Many of these lesser found the idea of eternity alongside the gods intolerable. So, they elected to remain on Earth, bound by Kronin’s rules, instead. At least then, there would be some distance.”

“I mean, I guess, but it sounds like they still had to listen to him.”

Marcus nodded. “Or face his wrath. And after Carcerum was founded, few dared to question the power of Kronin.”

“All right.” I stretched, locking my arms casually behind my head. “So that’s who we’re looking for, then? A lesser being?”

“Years ago, Kronin sent me to check in on a Forgotten of note who lived near this city in a swamp. Even if that swamp is long gone, he is a sedentary figure. I believe he cannot have moved more than a mile or two from his original location.”

“A swamp, huh?” I smirked humorlessly. “Well, if you think we might find him in a similar environment, I have a suggestion.”

“Oh?” Marcus glanced my way, curious.

“You’re certain he must be around here?” I asked.

He looked down at the map again, then nodded. “Yes. I have no doubt.”

I pointed down the street at a garish sign lined with dim, flickering marquee lights. The board was dingy, and the letters were faded. GIRLS! it read, and then, the ever reliable XXX.

“If you’re looking for slimy, I’d start right about here.”

Chapter Nineteen

The bump and grind music was enough to revive my hangover in almost all its former glory. I screwed up my face against the noise. “Please tell me we don’t have to spend too much time in here. I think my skull might come apart.”

Marcus didn’t hear me over the bass. He was back in tracking mode, his gaze roving over the dark, smoky room. As my eyes began to adjust, silhouettes emerged from the shadows. They were hunched in the familiar posture of the miserable, drowning their sorrows in booze and flesh. The whole scene left a bad taste in my mouth.

I stuck close to Marcus and followed his lead, letting my eyes wander around the murky room. There was nothing of note in there, nothing I hadn’t seen a million times in a million other seedy joints before. That was, except for one behemoth of a guy who sat at a corner table, leering at the world through bloodshot eyes. He was half smiling, his jowls pocked and dangling. Below the table, he seemed to become amorphous.

A shudder ran through me. “Marcus. Do you see that dude?”

“Yes.” Marcus spoke low, out of the side of his mouth. “Pay him no attention. Do not let him scare you.” He paused. “I believe you would tell me to ‘play it cool’ under similar circumstances.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one learning,” I said with a smile.

We wound our way closer to the stage. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the guy heave to his feet, rocking the whole corner table. He edged out from behind it and waddled across the room toward a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY, which barely opened wide enough to let him through.

Marcus signaled for me to trail him, so I kept my head down and followed in his footsteps. The first thing I’d learned about recon echoed in my head. Act like you belong.

The employee door opened onto a long, harshly lit hallway. The walls, once white probably, were tinged a disgusting yellow with age and neglect. A rat darted along the molding—the only surprise was that there was only one.

“Do you know where he went?” I whispered. Marcus indicated a door that stood slightly open halfway down the corridor, spilling out a slice of wavering light.

Marcus went first.

He squared his shoulders, strode forward, and pushed open the door with no hesitation. We looked in on an empty dressing room, the kind with a vanity on one wall.

I noticed an odd, brownish tarp wadded on the floor. Weird. Looking closer, I picked out holes, frayed edges, suspicious bumps. I reached out and took a bit of it between my fingers, recoiling at the soft, slightly moist texture. That was about when I realized it was skin. The same skin I’d just seen adorning that creep’s corpulent figure at the corner table.

“Gross!” The word leapt out before I could stifle it.

A baseball bat crashed into the side of the doorframe, splintering it. My instincts took over, by which I mean I pulled back and shrieked. The bat, wide enough to be considered more of a club, was clutched in a huge, gray-brown hand. The skin was knobby like an old log. I followed it up to see the face of the guy in the corner.

But he was different now.

There was an empty bottle of whisky sitting on the vanity, a big, heavy, square one. Marcus picked it up and flipped it over in his hand. During the next windup of the baseball bat, Marcus arced the bottle right under the guy’s huge arm.

It shattered on a protruding, rock-hard jaw.

The man—was he a man? I honestly couldn’t tell—reeled back, stunned. Shards of the bottle’s base rained to the floor, leaving behind smudges and trickles of sludgy blood.

Definitely not a man, I thought, now that I could get a good look at the shape in front of us. It was more or less the right shape, but its heavy shoulders were too hunched, and its jaw was too thick and wide. The teeth were something else altogether. They jutted from the lower lip like leaning tombstones.

I had never seen anything like it. All the thoughts in my brain melted together into a stream of gibbering consciousness. Marcus’s stories, I could handle. This thing that was staring me in the face, standing on two feet in the real-ass world? Not so much. There had to be a reasonable explanation—there had to. For the monster in front of me. The skin on the floor.

So why couldn’t I think of one?

The creature raised his bat again, prompting another clean hit from Marcus with the remains of the bottle. It broke down to a nub in his grasp, his fingers dangerously close to the gleaming edges of the glass. I would’ve dropped it at that point, but Marcus held firm. A tooth ricocheted off the far wall, and a moment later, so did the creature’s head. It left a squash-shaped dent in the plaster.

“I yield!” The voice was a wet bellow. I watched the beast clutch at his bleeding face with those gigantic mitts, attempting futilely to pick out the smaller bits of broken glass still embedded in his coarse skin. “I yield,” he said again, sounding like he meant it. “I yield, damnit.”

“Very well.” Marcus made a show of setting down the neck of the bottle. He folded his arms and gazed down on his defeated opponent. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it, ogre?”

Briefly, the ogre looked like he wanted to say something snide, but sense got the better of him.

“Look, Roman, I don’t know what in hell’s name you think you’re doing here, but I can tell you, it ain’t got nothing to do with me. I haven’t been messing with any of that monkey business since you saw me last. I swear by it.”

“Last we met, you were leading colonists to their deaths in your stinking bog,” Marcus interjected.

The monstrous figure frowned. His already saggy face sagged even more. He hadn’t necessarily seemed old before, but he sure did now. I could see the rough whiskers poking out of his chin and the cataracts clouding his eyes. “I haven’t run that game for a couple centuries at least. I get everything I need right here.”

“And it is every bit as shameful as it should be,” Marcus said. “But I am not here to inquire about such things.”

A deep sigh escaped the ogre. His body deflated, expanding a few more inches around him. “Thank the King,” he murmured. “I was sure Kronin sent you.”

“Kronin is dead.” Marcus spoke matter-of-factly, but there was a steel edge underneath the words.

The ogre paused for a second to take in the words, then laughed. Marcus’s eyes hardened, and I expected the beast to die right then.

“That explains all the weird shit that’s been going down around these parts lately,” he croaked, dragging his knuckles over his jaw. The slack flesh rippled.

“Elaborate.”

A horrid smile parted the monster’s lips, revealing his janky teeth in all their uncomfortable glory. I could feel every cell in my body trying to draw away from the contents of that dressing room. My very sanity felt threatened. He continued, taking no notice of me whatsoever. “That’s the kind of thing I only give away for a price. I’m not a cheap date, you know.”

He laughed again, a bumpy, hacking sound.

“The price is that I leave your overgrown forest of a mouth intact,” Marcus replied. He was pretty good at this game, but the strain was starting to show on his face. His cheeks were pale and sunken. A vein stood out in his neck.

I narrowed my eyes. Was he okay?

The ogre considered the offer. “I’ll give you a freebie,” he snorted. “How’s that? For old times’ sake. The rumor mill tells me there are some Apprenti sniffing around the backside of town. Looking for recruits and the like. I guess the whole ball of yarn is finally coming undone.” The smile on his lips turned cruel. “About time if you ask me.”

“I did not.” Marcus shifted his weight. His temples were shiny with sweat. I opened my mouth to say something, but he kept talking before I got it out. “You have not pledged your allegiance to any such recruiters, have you?”

“Ha!” The ogre gestured to his wasted form. “In this body? You gotta be kidding. I’m too old and busted to fight. Don’t have the grace of Carcerum down here to keep me young. I know it, and so does everyone else. They haven’t even asked.” He scratched one of his chins. “Which is good, because these days, all I want is to feast and fuck. In either order.”

I made a face.

“Charming,” Marcus said. “Tell me, have you heard anything about a specific Apprenti? Perhaps one who prefers the color black?”

“You mean Delano.” The creature nodded his heavy head. “Yeah. Haven’t seen him, but I know he’s around. You must know, too, don’t you? Servants of Lorcan don’t exactly travel under the radar too well. Ironic, isn’t it?” He chuckled, and it turned into a cough.

I wanted to throw up. C’mon Marcus. Get us out of here. The longer we spent in the presence of this thing, the more my skin crawled. I felt like I was full of bugs.

“Is that all?” Marcus asked. He, too, looked worse by the minute.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re gunning for, but if you want some serious advice, don’t mess with Delano. He don’t screw around with any of these bleeding hearts down here. He wants killers and only killers. If they enjoy it, all the better. You get my drift?”

“I get it.” Marcus moved to straighten up, but his knees buckled, and he toppled to the side.

I rushed in to support him.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t say anything, but he felt for his flask. Behind us, I heard the human gelatin cake scrabbling around. Marcus uncapped the flask. I spun around just in time to see that we were back in baseball season.

“Dammit to hell, you bastard!” I grabbed the vanity chair and hurled it with all my strength straight at the bulbous gut.

The feet of the chair dug in, and the ogre retched, but held his feet. Before he could use his bat again, Marcus regained himself.

And torpedoed the jagged piece of broken whisky bottle straight into the ogre’s bulging eye.

“Shit!” I gasped.

“I planned on letting you live,” Marcus said with little mercy in his voice. “But apparently your fear of Kronin’s law died with him. Fortunately for the people of this city, his justice lives on.”

The monster made a noise kind of like a chicken as he slid to the ground. He clutched at his face, but it was futile. The bottle cap sat flush in the eye socket, eerily almost the right size.

“We are done here,” Marcus said. He took me by the elbow and guided me from the room, back into the hallway. We retreated from the carnage in silence. On our way out of the employee door, we passed a girl in little more than bits of pink string. Despite the fact that she could have been his daughter, she gave Marcus a flirty smile.

Neither of us said a word. The door closed. We walked away fast.

The club was loud, but we still heard her scream.

Chapter Twenty

I saved all my words for when we were outside again in the relatively fresh air, away from that hellhole stripper prison. I started with the obvious. “Are we gonna get in trouble for that?”

“No. The body will be gone without a trace by the time the authorities arrive. The longer he has been preserved, the faster death will dissolve him.”

“Okay, sure.” All I could do was unconditionally accept whatever he said at this point. Denial required a presence of mind that I simply didn’t have. Which led seamlessly into my next questions. “So, it’s really real, then? You weren’t lying?”

Marcus smiled. “I never lie. It goes against my code.”

“All of it is real?”

“Yes.”

I blinked. My mind remained stubborn, at least, in part. “But, like, all of it?”

He ran a hand through his hair and adjusted the neckline of his tunic. “Let me recount the tale of when I first discovered the truth about the realms. We were in Gaul, my cohort and I, on a regular foot patrol. This was something we did every day, several times over. For quite some time, we had seen and heard nothing. With no evidence to the contrary, we expected this trend to continue.”

“Sure,” I said.

“But as you can guess, it did not. We were attacked by a monster, half man and half bull, with great, wide horns and cloven hooves instead of feet. It was nearly twice my height, and it bellowed like livestock but a thousand times more terrible.” An inscrutable expression crossed his face. “It is no exaggeration to say I nearly soiled my tunic on the spot.”

I snorted. “No kidding. They call those things minotaurs now.”

Marcus nodded. “They have always had their proper names, but it has taken me ages to learn them all. There are so many more than you know, Vic. And in the wake of Kronin’s death, the curtain grows thinner every day.”

“What happened after the minotaur arrived? Did you beat it?”

“No.” He smiled flatly. “Our weapons barely slowed it down; it was as if its flesh was wrought from iron. I saw a man’s skeleton splintered on those horns.” He winced at the memory. “My men scattered, some fallen, others in shock, and others mad from the impossibility of what they were witnessing. I thought for sure that we would be destroyed, our chances at honor wiped out, but then Kronin arrived.”

“He was there? You met him?” No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep myself from being drawn into the captivating weave of his story. Especially now that I had encountered a monster of my own.

“That is when I met him for the first time. He descended much like I did unto this plane, albeit in a vastly more controlled manner. He had the Gladius Solis with him then, and he used it to rend the minotaur clean in half.”

“Uh huh.” I knew a bit about the blade’s ability to do that.

“He was so regal, so radiant, and so just and commanding that I pledged my service to him then and there. For the rest of my days, however many I had.” He glanced up at the moon. “As it has turned out, I had a lot.”

“And you’re still serving him,” I said. “Here in New York.”

“I never imagined the world could look like this.” Marcus took a deep breath. “Or that I would be able to see it this way.” He turned to me. “This is why my mission is so important, Vic. I must protect and preserve this world because it used to be my world, too. Perhaps you do not see the same value in it as I do, but my hope is that you will someday. And I hope you will feel the same sense of duty toward your fellow human beings.”

“What are you trying to say, Marcus?” I asked quietly.

He pondered that. “I am trying to say that I hope you will choose to save them when the time is right.”

“That’s theoretical, right? I’m trying to get rid of someone, remember?”

“Yes, but there will be many more to dispose of in the future—your future. In Kronin’s absence, the darkness he kept at bay will only grow until it engulfs this world.” He pointed his thumb toward the strip club. “The things you saw in that house of ill repute were only a taste of the bitter potion. There are far greater horrors biding their time in the shadows.”

“Delano,” I muttered.

“And more.”

It was all too overwhelming. I could feel myself actually getting lightheaded. “Can you make it home okay on your own?” I asked. “Sorry, I just… I just need to take some time to think about things. About everything.”

“Take your time.” Marcus lifted his hand in a casual salute. “You have much to absorb. I understand.”

“Thanks.” I smiled tightly. “See you later, okay?”

I veered off the main streets after we parted ways. Back in the days before everything went to hell, I followed all the rules when it came to walking at night. Never alone, never unarmed. I knew how to grip my keys between my knuckles with the best of them. Now that I spent my days and nights ducking out of dangerous bars and had no problem firing a gun in crowded rooms, I’d thrown all that caution to the wind.

It was freeing in a way. In another, it was terrifying.

I turned my brain off and trusted my feet to just walk through the cool October air. The breeze lifted my hair off my neck. I ran both hands through it and let myself smile at the feeling, even though it was a little greasy. That was another thing I’d embraced about the street life: people left you alone if you looked a little ragged.

My heart noticed that the streets were starting to look familiar, but for different reasons than I’d become accustomed to. I told myself to ignore it. The draw, however, was irresistible. In my current state of mental exhaustion, I couldn’t keep myself away if I tried.

So, I didn’t.

The building had been abandoned for five years, and it still stood empty, the façade bearing traces of the blaze that had taken it down. I ran my hand along the outside edge of the boarded-up front window, staring at the layer of dust that came away with my fingers. I had played in that window when I was a child. I’d practically grown up in it. My parents used to joke that half their business came in because of the baby in the front display.

Looking at it always took me back to the last day.

The cop had been young, a woman with plain blonde hair pulled up in a sensible bun. She had looked earnest, eager to do her job right. She had also looked incredibly, painfully sorry. I’d never forgotten the look in her eyes when she knelt down beside me, took my hands in hers, and told me my mother and father were dead.

That cop was nowhere to be seen a few months later. The officer who told me the investigation was effectively closed was a man, barrel chested, with the face of a garden slug. He’d been chewing tobacco while we talked. That was what I remembered about him. The stale smell of his breath and the spitting.

I also remembered my unfathomable anger, and my hunger for justice to be served. So began my five-year mission to make right what the authorities couldn’t—or wouldn’t.

In all of it, the only kindness I tasted was from that lady cop, with the perfect blonde bun. She was the only one who wanted to help me.

At least, until Marcus.

Now, I was beginning to feel like a person who had found motions she actually wanted to go through. I was finding things besides vengeance to care about again.

My friends. A cause bigger than me. Hell, even the stray cat Marcus would have eaten that now unequivocally called the loft its castle.

Today, the front window of their shop was covered by plywood. The inside was an empty burned out husk, too wrecked to be revitalized. The business my parents had worked so hard to build had gone up in smoke in the blink of an eye. This was why Rocco Durant had to die. Not just to pay for what he’d done, but to keep him from doing it to anyone else.

The man was a cancer, destroying the lives of everyone he came into contact with. This city and the entire world would be a better place once he was gone. The cops couldn’t do it. Deacon St. Clare couldn’t do it. It had to be me.

Tears stung my eyes. I was twenty-eight years old, almost twenty-nine, standing in front of my parents’ burned-out shop and crying like a baby. I sobbed so hard that I had to kneel on the sidewalk where the drooping ribbons of crime scene tape had hung, in front of the boarded window shattered years ago.

It passed like a flash flood. I wiped at my face, thankful that whatever makeup I’d been wearing had long since disappeared. Then I stood up, took a deep breath, and smiled. Not a great smile. Certainly not my best. It was progress, though. For the first time in a small eternity, I was able to take in that store and think of happy things instead of flames and carnage.

Maybe there was more to life than vendettas after all. Maybe I could be a hero. Or at least, I could help a hero like Marcus. That was close enough. I had time for my own scores to settle, but Marcus, on the other hand, apparently had a lot less time than me.

Shit was happening to him like crazy. I had just seen him kill a damn ogre in the back of a strip club. An ogre. It did not feel real, and yet, I was there. And if he was right, there was inevitably more carnage to come. There was absolutely no way to predict where this road would lead, but he’d already brought me to the first toll booth.

The least I could do was pay what I owed and continue on at his side. My personal gripes could wait—for now.

After all, we were friends, weren’t we?

The walk home was different from the walks I’d taken over the past five years. Now I had a better reference point for how much things could suck, and they didn’t suck as much as a lecherous old ogre who’d been finding various places to rot in the dark over the considerable span of his several-hundred-year life. They didn’t suck as much as a Roman Centurion putting the neck of a whisky bottle in your eye.

It was screwed six ways till Sunday, but it was perspective, and that was what I’d needed for the last five years. I just didn’t realize how badly until Marcus literally fell into my life.

I made a mental note to thank him in the morning. Then, as I reached the front of my building, I squinted at something out of place in the dark. The front light was out, which was weird. That thing always buzzed like it had been on continuously since 1970. And there was a silhouette lying draped across the sidewalk in front of the door.

It took one more step for me to see that it was a body.

Chapter Twenty-One

I shuddered. My stride faltered. “Oh, no.”

For obvious reasons, I was not great about happening upon people who were dead, and I prayed that wouldn’t be the case here. A homeless person passed out from drugs or alcohol, I could handle. Dead bodies just hit a little too close to home.

Unfortunately, it happened to be directly in front of the place where I needed to be, so I steeled myself and started forward again.

I held my breath. Part of me had dared to hope that I was mistaken about the shape. Maybe it was a discarded rug, a futon mattress, or yet more trash bags. As I approached, however, I could see that I’d been right. To my horror, I knew the person to whom the body belonged. A floppy hat was pulled down over the face.

“No, no. Sam. Please be sleeping. Please be sleeping. Please be sleeping.”

I crept as close to him as I could bear, searching keenly for signs of breathing. I was sure he must be dead. Then, his chest rose and fell, and I almost cried with relief. I shook myself and prepared to step carefully over him.

Sam sat up. “The monsters are after you. Beware!” His hand shot out and gripped my pant leg with a terrifying strength. I clapped a hand over my mouth to hold in a scream.

“Crap on a cracker, Sam, you scared the piss out of me,” I said. Then his words sunk in. “What monsters?”

He squeezed my leg. His eyes were wide and staring. The hat lay upended in his lap where it had fallen. “They’re inside!” he whispered loudly. “Beware!”

He was seriously freaking my shit out. A week ago, I would have laughed it off, but now I knew monsters were real. I nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

He watched me edge toward the door. Never blinking.

I was glad to get into the stairwell, away from whatever was going on with him. He’d never shown signs of instability before, but maybe he’d finally run out of his last meds, or his demons had caught up with him. Adrenaline coursed through my veins. I took the stairs two at a time up every floor, not pausing until I reached my landing. My heart hammered in my chest. I produced my key, put my hand on the door handle, and it swung open.

“What the hell?” I looked down at the handle and saw that a good portion of the lock had been blown apart, probably by a gun. The breath caught in my throat. Awesome. The one night I happened to be totally defenseless was the night my place finally got broken into.

Well, I still had my fists and my feet. I only wished I’d paid more attention when Marcus tried to teach me hand to hand combat.

I pushed the door open the rest of the way with my foot, and I brought my arms up in a boxer’s stance as I moved into the loft. Every muscle in my body was tense like steel cable. I hoped I looked confident, even though I wasn’t. Punches, no matter how hard, would never be an even match for a gun.

I’d been the underdog for years, but that didn’t mean I had grown to like it. Just once, I want to be the asshole with the advantage.

“Marcus?” I moved to the light switch and flipped it.

Stars exploded across my vision. I stumbled, reflexively grabbing the side of my head before realizing I’d been hit. I turned toward the invisible source of the blow and found myself face to face with a mountain of a guy in a dark suit.

My first thought was Rocco, but it didn’t take long to correct myself. The suit was too cheap. And this guy didn’t have any scars.

Yet.

He pulled his lips back into an angry snarl and locked his hands around my upper arms. “You’re dead meat, girlie. Worse than dead meat.”

“Yeah?” I dug my feet into the floor and fought back, but his sheer bulk gave him incredible leverage. “You gonna run me through a wood chipper, or what?”

He took a step forward, and my heels slid backward along the floor.

“Don’t give me any bright ideas. They’ll find you in a dumpster as soon as I get what I need.”

So, he was looking for something. He jerked me to the right, and the room twirled around me. All my shit was strewn across the floor. My bed was cut open, and my blankets were ripped apart. All the bottles had been smashed into a mosaic of balefully glittering broken glass, and all my crates lay in pieces. The table still stood, but even the chairs were tumbled over, to say nothing of my makeshift bathroom wall. The wreckage made it easy to see that at least the scumbags left my plumbing intact. Too bad this piece of shit attacking me was too big to flush.

Where was Marcus? No way he would have gone this long without showing himself if he were present. I brought my eyes back to the guy who was doing his best to pin me against a wall. “What happened to my friend, Frankenstein?”

He furrowed his heavy brow, and his grip momentarily loosened. I used the opportunity to regain some traction in my feet and shove with all my might against him. It was like shoving into a damn brick wall. He didn’t budge. He just held me still while he thought about how to answer. Was it possible he had never seen Marcus?

“Don’t matter,” he said after a prolonged pause. “Just tell me where it is.”

“If you’re having trouble finding your dick, try a microscope,” I said.

His lips curled back again, and with a frustrated roar, he tossed me across the room. I somehow managed to careen into a piece of my ruined bed, and while I struggled to get my bearings, he let out this weird, unearthly screech. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

I looked up, but there was no way to describe what I saw.

His face was morphing. The skin stretched and bubbled over a shifting skeletal structure. Teeth elongated to needle points in the growling mouth. His skin, previously blotchy and uneven, had drained of color except for the great black bags beneath his eyes. And his eyes—I almost couldn’t look at them. They reminded me of the paralyzing, bloodless stare of the man at the slaughterhouse whom I now knew to be Delano. This man, standing in my apartment, was a similar kind of creature as that demigod Marcus had warned me about.

Sam had been right. This was a goddamn monster.

I didn’t like this one bit. I liked it even less when he came flapping at me in high gear, shoulders pushed forward, fingers curved inward like talons. If I thought my nails were in dire straits, they were nothing compared to his. I had no doubt he could slit my throat with his thumb if he wanted to.

I swallowed hard. First ogres, now vampires? Even as all this bullshit was slowly becoming real in front of my eyes, I had trouble believing it.

“All right, Twilight,” I said. “Let’s rumble.”

The vamp was fast, but in these close, cluttered quarters, it was more of a hindrance than a help. The first time he tried to snatch me with one of his horror-movie hands, all I had to do was jump to the other side of a pile of debris. The movement was enough to throw his momentum off kilter, and he teetered precariously on his center of balance.

“I don’t have time for games, foolish girl!” He had acquired a snakelike hiss in his voice—maybe because of all those fangs. Maybe he was just trying to be scary.

“If you’ve got somewhere else to be, by all means, get the fuck out of my home, you scab sucker.”

He scooped up a piece of a cinderblock and hurled it at my head. I felt the side of it whiz past, way too close to my face, almost grazing my cheek. It exploded into dust and shrapnel against the back wall.

“Where is it?!” he howled. His teeth glistened, and the ghostly eyes burned with a feverish hunger.

“Where’s what?” I glanced at the mess on the floor. “I don’t have anything worth stealing. Not that I could find anything anyway since most of it’s in pieces on the floor. And guess whose fault that is, huh? Like an ass-ugly bull in the world’s shittiest china shop.”

He was not convinced. The next thing he threw was a handful of bottle pieces, which also shattered spectacularly upon impact. “Wretched imp!” he shrieked.

“Haven’t heard that one before,” I said.

I crouched among my minefield of wrecked furniture since he didn’t seem eager to carve a path through it himself. He was waiting for me to stray within reach of his long, sinewy arms just for a second. That was all it would take for him to end it.

We both knew that. So, we were locked in a standoff as I tried to figure out my weapon situation. I groped blindly through the debris, unwilling to take my eyes off the vampire. He was still changing, and he didn’t seem to like it. His ears were longer now, and his limbs looked like they were growing, too. Creepy, sharp shoulder blades tore through the back of his shabby suit.

“Is that why you guys wear such cheap shit?” I asked him. He grunted, stretched out his freakishly long arms, and gathered up more things with which to pelt me. I blocked the worst of it with a chair. “It’d be real cool if you could cut that out. Like, now.”

My hand hit something long on the floor, and my fingers closed automatically around a grip. I grinned. I’d forgotten about our practice swords.

Not as good as the real thing, but better than nothing. I made sure my hold on it was ironclad. The battered wooden sword was my only shot. The vamp wasn’t as stupid as I wanted him to be. As soon as he caught sight of what was in my hand, he knew my game, and he flew into a frothy rage. But the full length of his limbs made him even more unwieldy in the limited space we had. I watched him knock stuff off my counter, kick the table over, and then try to nail me with the chair. A flying splinter dug into my cheek.

First blood. All bets were off.

It was reasonable to believe that the angrier he got, the more dangerous he was, but I needed him to let his guard down if I wanted to drive a dummy sword into his heart. Raw emotions were the easiest way to manipulate him without him noticing. So, I made myself stay put where he could see me. The fact that I remained alive and full of blood seemed to bother him intensely.

He began to make poor decisions.

It started when he rose to his feet, which were now a bunch of grotesquely long, clawed toes clad in the remains of his shoes. He lurched toward me, swaying precariously on two feet with his knuckles dragging on the floor.

I wrinkled my nose as I stared into his wasted face. “Holy hell, you’re ugly. Did you agree to become this? Talk about poor life choices.”

My taunting had the desired effect. His eyes blazed with fury, and he rushed at me. Once he got in range, he tried to grab me, but his swings were wild. I got the impression that he wasn’t used to his body, and he didn’t know how to use it effectively.

The long fingers were easy to elude; it was the nails, now fully formed claws, that made me nervous. A lucky hit could end everything, and bleeding out on my own floor was not how I wanted to die.

I adjusted my grip on the training sword. The creep was so obsessed with getting his hands on me that he’d stopped guarding himself. If I had any chance at all, it was going to come very soon. It would be even better if I could disable one of his hands for any length of time, but that was me thinking like an action hero.

Be realistic. Focus, Vic. Just get the job done.

Then, the grabbing arms stopped swinging. The vamp crouched on all fours, low to the floor. His eyes were trained like laser sights on me. He was going to pounce.

It was the best I could have hoped for. He might as well have gifted himself to me on a silver platter as far as I was concerned. I had the perfect maneuver in my repertoire already. All I had to do was nail the timing.

He leapt, and I swear time slowed down while his body climbed on its arc through the air. I saw each individual claw outstretched, poised to tear me to pieces the same way he’d dismantled my stuff. I saw the great, sallow plain of his upper torso, and I dashed forward to position myself underneath the right spot. As he began his descent, I swept the blade upward and thrust it with all my might into the vampire’s bare chest.

The sword was dull. It took an insane effort to get that blunt, chipped wooden blade to perforate the vampire’s leathery skin. Thankfully, gravity was on my side. A sickening, popping tear told me I’d finally achieved my goal. The weapon seemed to be sucked up into his body, at least, until the hilt bridged the wound. I’d been prepared for torrents of blood, but there wasn’t much at all.

The monster’s whole body stiffened. His limbs went rigid, then limp in rapid succession. I put my hands up just in time to knock him to the side as he fell, saving myself from being crushed beneath his massive form. The sword handle stuck out straight from the left side of his breast. He attempted to paw at it, but each movement of his arms got weaker and weaker.

In the last moments before life left him entirely, he started to look more human again. I averted my eyes, but I heard the thump of his limbs losing their forced tension and hitting the floor.

Silence reigned for about ten seconds. Then, a weird whispering took up, and I found out that even more of the legends were true.

The sons of bitches really did turn to ash.

Chapter Twenty-Two

The first thing I did after killing the vampire in my apartment was to find an unbroken glass and fill it with water, which I drank. Then, I picked up the table and its corresponding chair. I had to dig my roots into mundanity, to drag myself back into the real world. Otherwise, I was going to lose my goddamn mind.

Coming home to fight a murderous vampire was pretty high up on my list of shit I never expected to happen.

The ashes were still there on the other side of the room, reminding me this wasn’t just a bad dream. Now, I saw that there were more scattered all around and mixed in with everything else.

There was also blood. But no Marcus.

The cold hand of dread squeezed my stomach. The pieces of the big picture were falling into place in my mind. Marcus had fought there and stood his ground with every ounce of honor in his body, but he must have been overwhelmed, or else he would still be around.

The loft had been tossed. The vamps were searching for something, but what? It was hard to believe there was something in my possession that they just had to have.

Then it hit me. The sword! Duh. I felt very, very stupid. I’d been feeling that way a lot since I met Marcus. Fighting gods and monsters had me out of my element.

Of course, the vamps wanted the sword. I was willing to bet that blade put my dummy sword to shame when it came to slaughtering monsters. The only problem was this: where was the sword now? Marcus should have had it, but the bloodsucking bastard wouldn’t have asked me for it if they already had it.

They still hadn’t found what they needed. Hopefully, that meant Marcus was still alive.

A tiny mewing came from the cracked window. When I saw the cat clinging to the outside sill, I rushed over and scooped it up into my arms, momentarily overcome with a rush of concern for something other than myself or Marcus. “Sorry, baby.” I stroked its soft ears. “Glad you’re okay.”

I spent a few minutes pacing restlessly around the loft, holding the kitten and clearing a path in the rubble of my life as I tried to figure out my next steps. Obviously, I needed to go after Marcus. There was no way I was leaving him at the mercy of a pack of vampires. That being said, I was not foolhardy enough to attempt a rescue without a plan.

Fishing Marcus out of the river was one thing. A potential vampire den was a whole other ballgame. I was going to need reinforcements, and my options were limited. There was really only one person I could even consider asking for help.

Except, I didn’t want to consider Deacon St. Clare. I would’ve been perfectly happy to never see him again. Too bad I didn’t have a choice. I stopped pacing, put down the cat, retrieved my phone from my bag, and frowned. I also did not have his contact information. Then, I remembered how I’d met him the first time, and my eyes lit up.

Bingo.

Jules answered on the second ring. “Hey, Vic. What’s up?”

“Sorry I’m calling at such an odd hour,” I said. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”

“You know the answer to that without having to ask,” she said. “Name it, and it’s yours.”

“Okay.” I bit my lip. “Do you have Deacon’s number?”

Jules giggled. The giggle escalated into more of a cackle. “I knew it!” she crowed triumphantly. “You totally like him.”

“I mean—”

“It’s okay, Vic. Just admit it! Like anyone would blame you. We all saw him.” She paused. “Not sure if he’d be down for the late-night booty call, though. I don’t know what kind of guy he is.”

I felt myself blushing, more out of annoyance than embarrassment. “This is not a booty call! He… wanted me to follow up with him after the whole thing at East Coast Comics Convention. And I lost his number. So, I need it from you. That’s all.”

“Well, I don’t know it either,” Jules said with genuine regret. “But I do have Ezra’s, and Ezra is the one who invited him.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, painfully conscious that valuable time was passing. “I just need to get in touch with him. No booty calls for anyone.”

“Okay, okay.” Her tone of voice told me she didn’t believe a word I said. “I’ll call Ezra as soon as we hang up, and then I’ll text you. Good luck!”

“I don’t need luck,” I protested, but she was gone already. A couple minutes later, my phone buzzed with Deacon’s number.

I took a deep breath and called it.

“St. Clare.”

Even over the phone, his voice did weird things to me. I forced myself to focus on the problem at hand. I had to find a way to convince him to believe me, and then, to agree to help me.

Here goes nothing. “Hi. It’s Vic.”

“Vic?” He hesitated, either recalling me or trying to decide whether or not he should hang up. “Ah, right. Sexy woman in high heels who likes to hang out with gangsters.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s me. Listen, I need your help.”

“What kind of help?” That was when I discovered that Deacon and Marcus shared the ability to flick that suspicious undertone on and off at a moment’s notice.

“Jules gave me your number,” I said quickly. “She got it from Ezra. And she thinks I’m using it for… other things.” Why did I just say that? I forged on, privately mortified. “Anyway, it’s about Durant.”

“I’m listening.”

I considered telling him the whole story—for half a second. But Deacon seemed like a reasonable person, which meant I would sound crazier than Marcus. No one could believe the truth until they saw it with their own eyes. I decided that in this case, slightly altering the facts was an acceptable moral compromise.

“You remember my friend, Marcus, from the party?”

“Who could forget that tunic?”

“Well I’m pretty sure that Durant and his goons have kidnapped him. I came back to my apartment and there was blood everywhere, and Marcus he… Rocco would want him bad. They’re going to kill him unless we stop them.”

The line hung silent for a second before Deacon responded. “How do you know all this?”

Dammit.

“Listen,” I said. “We don’t have time to play twenty questions here. You know I’m... connected somehow. And I know I was kind of a dick back in the prison, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this. Please. If not, Marcus will die.”

“Okay, okay,” he said. “But we do it my way. Durant lives to see his day in court.”

“Fine, whatever,” I said. And I meant it. Marcus’s life meant far more than Rocco Durant’s.

“Tell me where they’re at. I’ll call in the local PD, and we’ll sort this whole thing out. You have nothing to worry about.”

But that wasn’t true, and as soon as he said it, I knew this plan was doomed to fail. The local cops, there was no way they’d be prepared for this. If what I just faced in my apartment was anything like what was waiting at the factory, then Deacon and his men would be torn to shreds. I didn’t even know if their guns would work on vampires or demigods or whatever else kind of hell Durant had locked away.

But I knew something that would.

“Vic?”

“I’m sorry, Deacon.” I searched for the words to say, but nothing came. So I mumbled, “I’m sorry,” once again and hung up the phone.

I was alone again, but this time, I had a plan. If Marcus had hidden the sword, and it wasn’t in the loft, then there were good odds I knew where it would be.

The only other place he knew.

I didn’t bother locking the door behind me—I just ran full tilt down the stairs and out of the building. Sam was gone, but I didn’t have time to worry about him. The docks weren’t that far, but I was terrified that every wasted second could cost Marcus his life.

My priorities needed adjusting. Or maybe I did, since they belonged to me. Find a way to rig a proper shower in the loft? Eh. Focus on making myself some real food once in a while? Whatever. Go diving for a magic sword in the river on a mid-October night? Yes.

In my defense, it wasn’t like I had a choice. I had to find the sword. I had to. Marcus’s life depended on it, and I was increasingly afraid that mine now depended on his. Plus, it was a point of pride. I couldn’t save a guy, sort of befriend him, and then let him get kidnapped and murdered on my watch. Totally unacceptable.

So yeah, I needed that sword badly.

Then, I needed to use it to wreak havoc on my enemies.

All right. So maybe that last part didn’t sound so bad.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The river looked black beneath a cloudy sky, and faint moonlight glinted off the surface current. It reminded me a lot of the night when it had all started. Not so many days ago, actually. Hardly any, but still a lifetime ago.

I barreled down the runway of the stone pier, my eyes fixed hard on the point in space where I thought Marcus had initially gone down. I didn’t even pause before I leapt out over the river.

The water came up around me like a thousand tiny needles. Once again, I gasped, pushed down my natural inclination to head for dry land, and dove deeper toward the bottom. The first thought that occurred to me was: I have never seen a black as black as this. Not only was there no light, but it seemed like light could not survive beneath the water. My eyes being open made almost no difference.

After twenty seconds of slow diving and searching, I returned to the surface, took in a gigantic gulp of air, and submerged again. My face and hands were rapidly numbing, and my eyeballs felt like spheres of ice, but I pushed through it. Leaving the sword behind was one hundred percent out of the question. What if it was the only thing that could kill Delano’s monsters?

The current kept pulling me away from the area I wanted to be in. I had to surface twice more before I managed to get down far enough for it to matter. I opened my eyes as wide as I could and peered through the inky murk at nothing. My hair drifted around my face like kelp. It was probably going to freeze solid when I got out.

If I got out. Because I was only getting out after I located the sword. I kicked harder, cutting the water apart with my hands. The air in my lungs was running low. At the edge of needing to turn back, I caught a glimpse of something down at the very bottom. A glowing shape.

The sword!

I replenished my air supply and dove with renewed vigor, shooting downward in a rush of bubbles. My clothes dragged at me, but the sheer determination overrode all of that. As I got nearer, the glow seemed to intensify, almost as if the hilt was calling me. It was stuck diagonally in the muddy bed, and when I was close enough to grab it, the water was lit so brightly it was almost clear.

I stretched out my hand, grasping the hilt firmly against my palm. It stuck for a moment, and a flash of fear leapt through my chest. I couldn’t get it out. It was trapped there. It would be lost forever because of my weakness.

Screw that, I thought and redoubled my efforts.

Satisfaction filled my body as the hilt loosed itself from the river’s clutches and came with me to the surface. I held it to my body, swimming with one arm back to the pier. The hilt came to rest on the concrete with an unceremonious clatter, and I pulled myself out beside it. Taking the moment to look at the ancient artifact, I breathed a sigh of relief. Marcus was smart; he had the wherewithal to hide Kronin’s weapon before he got nabbed by the goon squad.

I paused to wring out my hair and clothes as best I could. Against the ground, the sword hilt still glowed faintly. If I rested my bare palm on the dock, I could feel something radiating outward from it.

Energy? Heat?

Power.

I picked it up and hefted it in my palm. The moment I touched it, its light intensified. Nice of the gods to design a multipurpose device. It was warm, too, which was a welcome relief on my icy hands. As a tentative experiment, I swung it in a gentle arc until it was poised above my head.

A flash and a crackle ran through me, and suddenly, the sword was whole. Up close, it looked like it was made of solid fire. I could smell it burning. The wash of heat that had emanated from the resurgence of the blade dried me immediately.

It made me feel, somehow, as if I was taller, more capable. Able to take on the world.

“Whoa,” I whispered. Maybe I could get used to this. Still, I lowered the hilt until the blade went away, and then I stashed the sword in my bag. Now that I knew it worked, I had to keep it on the down low. I couldn’t have a sword out yet; not where I was going.

I doubted the bus driver would take kindly to that.

This late at night, the buses arrived sporadically in this part of town. I was impatient at the stop and impatient in my seat, keenly aware of the sword’s hidden weight on my lap and also irrationally afraid that I’d somehow set off the blade, punch a hole into the side of the bus, and possibly skewer an innocent passerby. It was safe to say the ride was tense. I couldn’t wait to be out in the open again.

More specifically, I couldn’t wait to fight. There was something about the God King’s sword that felt so empowering to me. Maybe it was just the fact that I’d used it for straight-up murder right from the outset, or that it cut through flesh and bone as easily as if they were butter. I wanted to use it again, and I knew the slaughterhouse—an apt venue for this confrontation—would provide me with ample opportunity.

My stop came up. I pulled the cord and hopped down the steps, like any other twenty-something without a car in New York City, which was most of them. No one knew I was going to commit several acts of murder in less than five minutes.

Not murder, though. I was doing this to save a life. The monsters had started this, and I was going to end it, and them.

I was a little unclear on the ethics of killing monsters. No one knew better than me how little the inhabitants of the slaughterhouse deserved to live. The humans alone had taken everything from me, and now they had seemingly made some sort of deal with the devil. If I didn’t stop them in their tracks, they would take and take and take.

It was time to settle a long-uneven score.

I didn’t mess with the doors at all on my second infiltration attempt. No time or patience for that. Instead, I went straight for a first-floor window that was missing its pane, shimmying delicately through the gap. The inside of the building was cloaked in shadows. It smelled like bleach. Each footstep sent a ripple of nerve-wracking echoes ricocheting off the bare walls. Sneaking was more or less impossible.

That was fine. I wasn’t feeling very stealthy anyway.

I did want to explore a little bit, though. I tiptoed down the long, wide main chamber. The ceilings were high, with vents and fans. In some places, the inside wall had begun to crumble. It matched the floor which was patchy at best. Some of the biggest cracks ran the width of the entire floor. I was constantly crunching on pebbles and other debris.

“Shh!” The sound cut through my own personal noise. I stopped dead, head tilted to listen. “Someone’s coming!” It was an undoubtedly female voice, high-strung and shrill with fear.

As I resumed walking, the sound of crying filtered down to me from above. I realized there was more than one woman. The implications filled me with equal parts unease and fury. Where these the women I had seen the other day? What were they doing here? Why were they crying?

I had the feeling I didn’t want to know, but I was going to find out.

“Down there, look!” a female voice said.

When I wasn’t on the move, the slaughterhouse was so silent that any speech at all sliced through the air like a knife. Aside from some difficulties caused by the echo, I had little trouble homing in on where the voices were coming from. The moment I laid eyes on their situation, a grimace spread across my face.

They were in a cage. It was like a huge birdcage with a domed top and padlocks on the doors, swinging from an anchor chain as wide around as my waist. Where the hell do you even buy a chain like that?

Several sets of frightened eyes peered out at me from the interior. They whispered among themselves.

“Who is that?”

“She doesn’t look like one of them.”

“I’ve never seen her before.”

I stepped closer, and they all immediately fell silent. “Hey,” I called. “I’m not a bad guy. I can get you out.”

The women inched closer to the bars of the cage, eyeing me curiously. The one in front had bright blue eyes and a flowing mane of deep red hair. She gestured to the contraption enclosing them. “Out of this?” she asked skeptically. “Without killing us, I hope.”

I smiled slightly. “No killing. Not of you guys, anyway.” I withdrew the hilt from my bag.

Big Red frowned. “What’s that? A pry bar?” She shook her impressive head of hair. “That’s not gonna work.”

“Better than a pry bar.” I lifted it high and willed the blade to appear. It lit up the darkness like the sun. The women gasped. Big Red’s eyes went wide with shock and fascination. I nodded at her. “I’d stand back a little if I were you.”

She seemed transfixed by the blade. They all did.

I judged the distance carefully, brought it up over my head, and then down in a slicing arc. The cutting tip of the sword struck through the padlocks, sending them clattering to the floor. The iron door swung open on screeching hinges.

“They definitely heard that,” I said. “Climb down fast and get out of here. You can use the windows. They don’t all have glass.”

Their feet hit the floor, and the captives fanned out to choose their escape routes. I saw that they were all around my age or younger, all slender, all pretty. All stolen for the benefit of the monsters who lurked elsewhere in the building, converging on the point where I stood sentry.

“Go,” I said, waving the women on. “You can’t be here when Rocco shows up. I don’t doubt for one damn second that he’ll kill you.”

Big Red was the last to flee. She paused with one foot on the windowsill and looked back at me. “Who are you?” she asked.

I stared back at her. “I’m the woman who is about to start a war against the gods.”

The beat of approaching footsteps only supported my command. Her eyes lingered on my face for a split second longer before she disappeared into the night. I let myself relax a bit. With the prisoners gone, it would be just me and Rocco, plus however many hapless goons he brought to the fight.

That much, I could handle. It would be just like before.

Except this time, Rocco Durant was not going to escape.

Chapter Twenty-Four

He and his men came up from behind me, but the persistent echo in the massive room gave me more than enough warning. The blade had once again evaporated back into the hilt, but I had the motions down now. I was ready to whip it out at a moment’s notice. The looks on their faces would be priceless.

Rocco looked like a million bucks, for reasons I now marginally understood. His time machine had taken him back another five or ten years, but I noticed it couldn’t do shit about that nasty scar. No matter how strong his build, or how sleek and dark his hair, he’d be marred forever by that mark.

And that meant he could never hide.

He only had two dumb flunkies in tow this time. I thought about warning him that this really wasn’t going to be a fair fight, but he had never cared when the odds were tilted in his favor. Why should I care if they were tilted in mine?

I wasn’t here to bet. I was just here to make sure this scumsucking shitbucket didn’t make it out of here on his own two legs. He looked me up and down from ten feet away. A wicked sneer curled his lip.

“Take care of her, boys,” Rocco said. “Just make sure you leave some for me.”

I stifled the urge to gag. This man might not have looked like the ogre lurking in the seedy strip joint, but he was at least as repulsive, if not more. In Rocco’s case, there were no excuses, flimsy or otherwise, about his base monster instincts. Rocco hadn’t been abandoned by the gods, and he hadn’t been stuck in his ways for centuries.

No, he was just a mean, selfish little prick whose utter delight in torture and pain were likely just his way of overcompensating for deficiencies south of the border. I’d seen it all before: flashy car, fat stacks of cash, jewels bigger than his teeth, and yet, no way to truly satisfy anyone.

This line of thought made me smile in spite of myself. It was hard to be afraid of him when I knew I had a seemingly indestructible sword of light in my hands. Marcus had mentioned offhandedly that the garments of Carcerum were more or less immune to serious damage, hadn’t he? Well, if his tunic could withstand anything, I bet Kronin’s trusty sword could, too. I was on the verge of getting a chance to prove it.

Rocco’s goons closed in on me from either side, and I belatedly recognized them as the bro-dudes guarding the door on my first failed foray into the slaughterhouse. If they knew who I was, their chiseled stone faces betrayed nothing. They wore their sunglasses inside, where the lighting was already suboptimal. I doubted they could even see me.

It was almost too easy.

I made a show of stretching out the arm that held the hilt of the sword, as though I was casually prepping for a fight. The shining blade popped into existence. I caught all three of the bastards’ expressions as the sword’s light momentarily engulfed them. Surprise, motherfuckers.

From Rocco, I thought I saw fear. If it wasn’t there yet, it would be real soon.

Or else I hadn’t done my job.

The beefy guards stuttered in their advance. The sword made them nervous, and that pleased me greatly. Despite the impassive reflection of their sunglass lenses, I knew they were hesitating, having second thoughts. Maybe for the very first instance in their miserable lives, they were regretting their choice of career.

“I’m just here for my friend,” I said. “And Rocco. You two dickheads are free to go. But if you stay, whatever happens to you is your fault.”

The two goons glanced at each other and didn’t move. They didn’t approach me, but they weren’t leaving either.

“Oh, don’t be afraid of that mouthy broad!” Rocco barked. His voice was harsh, a far cry from the smooth, manipulative tones I’d heard from him during our jaunt to the docks. His face was shellacked in a thin sheen of sweat, and although he continued to talk a mean game, he didn’t move an inch. “She ought to have drowned in the river days ago. Finish the damn job!”

“Come on, boys.” I smirked. My tongue ran across my lips. “You heard the boss. It’s time to do his dirty work.”

They didn’t appreciate my taunting. The hulk on the left knitted his brows. He took something out of his pocket. The gesture gave me flashbacks to Pencil-Boy and his silver gun, but this one had a wide, flat barrel, square and painted neon yellow. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had seen something like it just recently.

My memory suddenly kicked in. This dick had a taser. Probably because he didn’t want to kill me. Maybe he had been instructed to torture me first. Or maybe some goddamn vampire wanted to drink me dry.

Neither of those options were on my agenda.

“Shoot already!” Rocco commanded from the background peanut gallery. “What the hell is wrong with all of you today? I swear, it’s like all your cocked-up brains are on the same shitty wavelength.”

The man sure had a way with words. I tuned him out as my focus honed in on the guard’s trigger finger. Of course, it was possible that they both had tasers, in which case, I’d get hit full force as soon as I lopped off the first guy’s hand.

That meant I’d have to take care of them both in one fell swoop, just to be safe. You know, no big deal.

Actually, since I had this radical sword, it might just be doable. I didn’t even have to draw back that far to start my swing, and the blade still connected before he had time to do anything with that sad little taser. His hand flew away in a blur. The other guard stopped to watch it catapult off into another part of the room. All three of us heard it land with a distant thud.

The taser went off, and I laughed.

“Little late on that,” I said.

His mouth dropped open at the delayed revelation that he was now in need of a prosthetic. But instead of blood, rough dust poured from the stump, coating the sleeve of his black suit and dotting the surface of his shirt. He grabbed his wrist with his good hand, but there was no stemming the tide.

Was this just a clubhouse for vampires? If so, none of them were getting out of here alive. Or undead. Or whatever the hell state of existence a vampire lived in.

I chopped off his other hand. I didn’t even have both of mine on the sword. It felt about the same as cutting a pat of butter for pancakes. No effort. No fuss.

He screamed a lot more than a stick of butter, though. The dude had finally found his voice, and he was using it to full effect. I caught a few choice words in there, but it was mostly unintelligible. His life force was draining from two grievous amputation wounds now, and since I’d carelessly cut off more of his left arm than his right, his balance was off as he wheeled to face his beloved boss.

Rocco didn’t look away from the spectacle, but his face was pale as a sheet. He pressed his lips together until they almost disappeared. The guard fell to his knees. “Boss,” he whispered. “B—Boss…” He teetered and fell back into the spreading pool of dust. It billowed up around the outline of his body.

Somehow, through all of that, he was still wearing his sunglasses. The fucker knew how to die in style.

I expected him to turn to ash, but he didn’t, not quite. His body stiffened, turned white, and crumbled into bits of stone.

Well, would you look at that? What the hell was going on in this place? Not that I cared if the bastards died differently, as long as they all died.

“Next,” I said. My poker face remained completely undisturbed. The feeling of horror I had gotten from murdering Pencil Boy and his two unfortunate colleagues was far away, a barely recognizable sliver of human emotion. This was different. These weren’t men anymore. These were monsters. This wasn’t murder. It was mercy.

Right then, I felt nothing except the vague satisfaction of checking items off a list. One goon down, one to go. And then, the literal boss battle.

Assuming he didn’t duck out on me first. Rocco still hadn’t budged, but it was clear he’d been thinking about it ever since his guy lost a hand in less than the blink of an eye. He looked over at the remaining bro-guard. I did, too.

Bro-guard stood more or less frozen where he’d stopped when the sword came out, jaw slack, his reflective gaze directed toward his mangled buddy.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” I told him. He turned toward me as if he didn’t speak the language. “And that you had to become collateral damage. I’d let you live, but that wouldn’t really be fair to your friend, would it?”

The dude’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. He adjusted his sunglasses with the side of a shaking finger. I almost felt bad. Then again, he was probably planning on sucking every last drop of blood from my body. So I felt justified. These people were not people. At this point, I was ready to bet my life that neither was Rocco Durant.

Finally, some sound came out of bro-guard’s craw. “I’ll see you in hell, bitch!” he shouted.

No wonder he never talked. He didn’t have anything interesting to say. But I couldn’t blame him. He’d been through a lot in the past few minutes. Lucky for him, it would all be over soon. I gave ground as he charged me, but only so I could better line up my shot. There was a minor snafu; I had misjudged either his distance or his speed, so his massive shoulder struck me in the upper chest.

All of the breath pushed out of my lungs. I could already feel the area bruising, but that wasn’t enough to stop the indomitable blade of my magical sword from penetrating clean through the center of his chest cavity. He choked and grasped wildly at the protruding end of the sword. The parts of his hands that touched the shining blade were vaporized into nothing, not even ash.

He started to slide toward me. A flurry of panic kicked up in my chest. This guy was probably at least two hundred and fifty pounds on the conservative side. I’d be totally screwed if he managed to pin me under his dead weight. Securing my other hand on the sword hilt, I drew on all my powers of adrenaline and thrust forward with a mighty yell.

Instead of simply levering him off me like I’d intended, the extra force split the guard almost in two. As I’d predicted, he dried up and crumbled the way his cohort had done. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I did not look at the horrible mess the two-part fight had made. There was no blood or gore on me or the sword. I guessed it was part of the god magic or something—or the fact that no one but me seemed to have blood at all. But I had single-handedly managed to return the old slaughterhouse to its roots.

I wasn’t through yet. My eyes locked onto Rocco Durant. “Your turn.”

He pretended to ignore me. He had long since averted his eyes from the ultimate fate of his bodyguards, and as I moved up on him, he lit a fancy cigarette with a gold lighter. “I suppose we can’t talk about this, can we? Make some kind of deal?” He chuckled, his throat dry. “Nah, who am I kiddin’?” He made a motion with the burning cig toward the remains of his goons. “You weren’t into a deal that last time, and something tells me you’re not gonna be into it now.”

“Nope.” I summoned my trusty blade. “And I came equipped to get even more up close and personal. Aren’t you glad your boys left some for you?”

I got no answer, but he didn’t look glad. He looked like the coward I’d known him to be since the day he brought his gun into a check cashing shop and emptied it into my parents. I’d known he was a coward since he went back to burn down the store, so scared of getting caught that he was more than happy to pile crime on top of crime.

I hoped he was scared to die.

“This is gonna come back and bite you someday, dollface,” he said. “You know that, don’t you? Little bitches like you don’t just get to come in and mess with the big dogs any way you like. Even if you bring whatever the hell that thing is to the table.” The sword cast his face in an orange-red glow. I brought it closer. His façade of bravado crumbled a little more.

“You always struck me as more of a cat person anyway, Rocco,” I said conversationally. “On account of the way you kept slipping through my fingers before. But it looks like your nine miserable lives have finally run out.”

The edge of the blade hovered inches from his bare skin. Its ambient heat burned his throat. Rocco winced. “Wait.” The word was more like a croak as it left him. The veins in his neck and forehead stood out. “Wait a damn second.”

“Give me a real good reason,” I told him.

“Sure.” He licked his lips. “You kill me, and your friend in the getup dies.”

I frowned in consternation, and then I recalled whose sword I was holding in the first place.

Vic Stratton, Friend of the Year.

“Where is he?” I asked.

Rocco grinned, the definition of shit-eating if ever I saw it. “I knew that would get your attention,” he said. “Gotta say, toots, you don’t look like the type who’d be into older men.”

“I wouldn’t push your luck.” I jabbed the sword at him again so that he flinched. “Show me. If I find out you’re lying, you don’t get a second chance.”

I backed off just enough to give him room to move. Rocco straightened his shirt and jacket and adjusted his gaudy tie. “You know, you mighta done real well in the mob,” he mused. “You know how to drive a hard bargain. And you’re a stone-cold bitch.”

Now that he had some leverage, his cool was back in place. I wanted very badly to remind him of the man he’d been only minutes ago, who had watched his two underlings die without lifting a finger to help.

Instead, I exercised a mammoth amount of restraint and let him lead me toward a door that opened on a stairwell. “Your buddy’s up on the factory floor,” Rocco said. “At the top. I think they brought him up there so that if he kept giving them trouble, they could just toss him off and be done with it.” He chuckled at his own joke.

I said nothing. Why was he talking to me like we were business associates and not mortal enemies? The effect was a little disquieting. Did he think he could finagle a way to turn me to his side? Because I would rather have swallowed the sun.

We emerged onto the second floor, which was even more open than the first. Hunks of broken machinery littered the walls and floor, among them a few pieces that looked like they might still work. Vicious meat hooks hung from a section of the ceiling.

I was looking at them when Rocco Durant turned to me and asked, “Why can’t you just let this go?”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Are you serious?” I glared at him, rethinking the choices I had made which allowed him to live long enough to ask me a question like that. “You fucking murdered my parents, and you want to know why I can’t just let it go?”

If I’d expected him to be contrite, I was in for some disappointment. Rocco shrugged, raising his eyebrows.

“Your parents had it coming. Dad was weak. Running a damn check-cashing joint, and he didn’t even have the balls to skim a little off the top. Complete fucking waste. He went down without a fight. But your mom…”

I clenched my teeth. “What about my mom?”

His laugh was pitying, which pissed me off even more. “Your mom was a real fighter. Who do you think gave me this scar?” He pointed to the red line running down his face. “She was like you, just couldn’t let things go. Doing her in was a real pleasure, believe me.”

My blood was boiling, but I resisted the urge to run him through right here. Marcus needed me. Rocco would get what was coming to him after I got my friend back. I brandished my sword at his back. “Keep walking, Durant.”

He obliged but did not shut up. “Don’t get me wrong on this. I love women. You’re all beautiful, angelic little slices of heaven. But you’ve got the jaws of a pit bull. You need to learn to let things go. Know what I’m saying? Release that negative energy.”

To illustrate his point, he made a fluttering, releasing motion with his hands while I looked on in total disbelief. Who in the seven hells was this guy? I’d spent so much time building him up as my nemesis, imagining the final showdown in loving gruesome detail. Then, I got here after years of unimaginable pain, and he just told me I needed to release my negative energy? This felt even more surreal than all the god stuff, times a million.

“Hey, I got a question for you,” I said, mostly to direct the stream of his incessant word vomit somewhere other than the topic of my parents. I didn’t think I could stomach hearing any more of his bullshit without killing him, and I really wanted to get Marcus back. It seemed easier than trying to get him to shut his trap entirely.

“Shoot,” he said.

“Funny you should mention that. Remember the bullet wound I gave you in the leg as you were running away like a huge asshole?” He acknowledged it with a grunt. “What happened to that? You’re not limping even a little bit. You seem fine. There aren’t any bandages or blood. What gives?”

He grinned. “Good question, and since you’re already on a backstage tour, I’ll show you our little secret.” The grin widened. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that’s where they took your friend.”

My stomach dropped. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “Pick up the pace,” I said. “No more stalling.”

Rocco held up his hands. “Relax.” He pointed to a pair of heavy double doors set into a thick wall. “We’re almost there.”

“Good.” I hoped that my clenched jaw did enough to disguise my apprehension. Whatever I was going to find behind those doors, I already knew it was going to be bad.

I just didn’t know how bad.

An incongruously high-tech pad was mounted to the wall. Rocco laid his hand on it. It beeped, and an industrial lock disengaged. “Get ready,” Durant said. “The show’s about to start.”

He turned the handles and pushed with both hands, letting the doors swing open through the force of their own considerable mass.

An intolerable noise assaulted all my senses. I clamped my hands over my ears to try and stifle the unearthly wailing, but it was no use. “What the shit is that sound?” I yelled at Rocco. He did not seem disturbed in the slightest.

On the contrary, he was obscenely delighted.

“It’s the sound of progress!” he shouted back. “Don’t stop now, sweetheart. You’re already in over your head!”

With that, he continued into the next chamber, and having no alternative, I followed him. I guessed very quickly that the walls in this section must have been soundproofed. Maybe that was why the rest of the place still looked like a dump. But why did they need that? And seriously, what was that sound?

In the next two seconds, I found out and immediately wished I hadn’t.

Rocco led me farther into the room, and I realized we were standing on a platform above a recessed pit, which was the source of the earsplitting cacophony. Why? Because it was stuffed full of screaming, writhing people.

“What…” I lost the words mid-sentence and had to stop to find them again. “What in the literal fuck is this?”

“Welcome to America’s first vampire factory,” Rocco Durant said.

The words took a long, long time to register in my brain, but that might have been due to the fact that time had apparently slowed down since I laid eyes on the pit. I simply couldn’t comprehend it on a rational level. The people down inside it twisted in ways I didn’t think a human body was physically able to contort, and they seemed to be lashing out at each other with wild abandon.

“What are you doing to them?” I whispered the question. Rocco heard me anyway. He leaned in close.

“Nothing they didn’t ask for. Well, maybe they didn’t know exactly what their reward would be, but every person in that pit wanted something. To serve a higher power. To escape from their miserable lives. To gain power. It’s a service we now provide. Those lucky scrubs down there are in the process of becoming Grade-A, top of the food chain, bloodsuckers. You know what I’m talking about, right?”

“Yeah,” I said absently. “But how? How could you do this?”

“You wanna talk mechanics?” Rocco raised a brow, plainly impressed. “All right, we can do that.” He raised a hand to signal one of the workers around the pit. “Hey, Louie! Cover that shit up, would you?”

Louie yanked a lever. I stared, dumbstruck, as a retractable lid began to roll out over the mass of bodies, plunging them into darkness. When it was fully extended, the cover dropped the noise level significantly, but it still left me feeling sick.

“You just… leave them in the dark like that? To fight each other?”

“Light levels don’t matter,” Rocco said dismissively. “Improved vision in all conditions is one of the first effects to manifest. They can see just fine. And I wouldn’t call it fighting,” he added. “This batch is brand new. They got a few days to go before the final result. So, they don’t know shit about who they are or what they’re doing in there. We don’t even know if they can feel pain at this stage. So…” Again, he shrugged. “It’s not an issue of humanity. They ain’t human anymore.”

I blinked, urging my brain to process the unthinkable thing I’d just heard. This was so far beyond anything Rocco had ever done to me or anyone else—and he was doing it to dozens of people at a time.

“You give them something?” I asked. “To start it?” My language capabilities were failing me on a grand scale. I could only form short, easy sentences.

It made me think of the way I’d been in the days immediately following my parents’ murders. But instead of the crushing, soul-rending pain, I was just numb. Unbelieving. Despite it happening literally right in front of me.

“It’s blood,” Rocco said. “Don’t ask me whose. I don’t know. As far as this shit is concerned, I’m low on the totem pole—forgive my political incorrectness.” He passed me a dickish smile before continuing. “I don’t get told too much. I just get the cases from the big guy, who gets ‘em from the bigger guy.”

“Who’s the big guy?” I hazarded a guess. “Delano?”

“Figured your friend mighta told you about him.” Rocco reached into his inside pocket and withdrew a capped syringe containing an unmistakable red liquid. “Yeah. So, he brings it to us, and we put it into these things. Then…” He mimed a jabbing motion into the side of his neck. “Needle straight into the carotid, you know? Starts working inside of thirty seconds. We toss ‘em in the pit because the initial injection drives them crazy. Gotta be careful though. Give them too much, and it really fucks them up. Takes a few days for them to come back to their senses.” He paused. “Delano said it took me two.” He said this with a hint of pride, as if it was proof of his higher breeding or superior intelligence.

“You’re a vampire?!” Honestly, I had no idea why I felt even an iota of surprise. I’d suspected it anyway, hadn’t I? So many triple curve balls had already been thrown my way that I should have been prepared for one more.

“You asked about the deal with the gunshots,” he answered. “That’s it. I heal like that these days.” He snapped his fingers. “Useful. You should try it.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” I directed my gaze back toward the pit and the furious melee that I knew was churning under that cover. “What happens to them after that?”

I was horrified but also fascinated. This was so far beyond the already expanded limits of my imagination. If Marcus had told me about it from the start, I might have been way more on board with hunting this guy down.

Or I would have left him on the street because I didn’t believe him. That was more likely.

“If they survive the party, then they’ll be more or less back to their normal selves,” Rocco said. “They can get all of that insane shit under control mostly. But they’re stronger than they’d ever dreamed of being, and they’re big-time hungry. They wanna eat all the time, you know? Kinda like having kids, but these ones eat other people.” He leered at me. “They like young girls the best. Around your age. Don’t ask me why.”

I made sure he could feel the warmth of the blade at his back. “So, the cage on the first floor?”

Rocco nodded. “That was supposed to be our food supply for the next while.” He signaled for the pit to be uncovered, and every muscle in my body tensed. I prepared to run him through if he tried anything untoward.

“Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “You’ll be dead before you hit the ground.”

“No, no,” he said quickly. “Not you. I just said that because I like to see that look on your face. No, we’ve got someone else lined up. He’s all ready to go.” Another hand signal. Louie opened a gate in the wall and extracted a hunched over form bound in chains. I recognized the sturdy build and the tunic that was still draped over his torso.

My stomach knotted. “Don’t you dare.”

Louie dragged Marcus to the edge of the pit and looked up, waiting for Rocco to tell him it was time. I wanted to run over there and kill Louie, but I knew it was a fool’s errand. As soon as the pressure of the sword was off him, Rocco would find a way to screw me over. He’d always been maddeningly good at that.

And then we’d both be dead.

Marcus glanced at me and shook his head. I knew what it meant. He was telling me to leave him. To let him go. To walk away.

Like hell.

“I see you understand the situation.” Rocco preened, pleased with himself. “I’d apologize for making you watch, but the truth is, I’m not sorry.” Busting up into waves of hearty guffaws, Rocco motioned across to Louie.

I watched in horror as Marcus tipped over the lip of the pit and disappeared into the seething mass of bodies.

“No!”

I stopped thinking about anything except Marcus in that moment. Rocco Durant, the other goons, the fact that I was in a slaughterhouse turned vampire production facility—it all disappeared. The only things that were real in my mind were Marcus and the pit. I had to get him out of there, no matter the consequences.

I had saved him once. I could save him again.

Jerking the sword away from Rocco, I leaned forward, springing with all my might toward shrieking oblivion. At the height of my jump, the pit looked to be a thousand feet deep.

I could see Marcus bound on the floor. They hadn’t gotten to him yet.

I still had time.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I rolled when I landed, narrowly avoiding a savage kick to the face from someone in the full thrall of vampire madness. Down here, the noise was even worse. All the agonized voices weaved together into a tapestry of torment.

Rocco Durant, you are so dead, I vowed silently. After I found Marcus, freed him, and figured out a way to get the hell out of here alive. Easy peasy.

In my head, it sounded like madness. Out loud, it would also have sounded like madness, but I refused to leave Marcus to die like this. I had already made my choice in a pretty irreversible way.

Good thing I still had the sword.

The blade took its first casualty as it flamed into existence, cleaving someone behind me in half. I only knew this because I felt the telltale sizzle of its cutting, and I heard the thump of the corpse falling among its brethren. The smell of fresh blood sparked a frenzy around me, but since I had none on me by virtue of the sword, the vampires-to-be didn’t seem too interested in me.

I was thankful for that, though there was no time to dwell on it. I aimed myself in my best approximation of the direction Marcus was in and started swinging in wide, looping arcs that took as much advantage of momentum as possible. The masses began to drop like flies, and the wailing built to a fever pitch. I could feel it in my teeth. I thought my head was going to split apart or shatter.

I didn’t look, but I had no doubt Rocco was watching. That made me all the more determined to succeed. Someone had to show him how deranged this all was. Someone had to make him pay.

I was happy to volunteer myself.

With the sword in front of me, I shouldered aggressively through the crowd. It was some kind of horrible, grisly mosh pit where instead of dancing like bulldozers, the participants ripped and devoured each other. They didn’t seem to like the fiery nature of the sword, which worked to my advantage, but I discovered real fast that some of them didn’t care.

A pair of terrifyingly strong hands gripped my shoulders. I yelped in pain as they twisted me around to face their owner, a gaunt, impossibly pale woman whose budding fangs had torn through her lower lip. She stared at me for a long second, her clouded eyes blank. Then she dove in for my neck.

I ran her through without questioning the action, without even feeling the heft of the sword in my arm. She died, her hot breath on my skin. So close. I had come so close to the most excruciating kind of death imaginable.

My hand shook so badly I nearly dropped the sword. I took a deep breath, held it tighter, and pressed on.

All I cared about was getting out of the hell Rocco Durant had created. And then I was resolved to send him to it.

As I thought I got closer to where Marcus might be, I started calling his name over the unbearable din so that if he was still alive, he’d know I was coming to get him.

“Marcus!”

Other than alerting my friend to my presence, the one word became a mantra for me to keep some of my sanity.

“Marcus!”

As long as I could call him and know who I was calling, I was still myself. That helped so much. It also helped that eventually, I heard a response.

“Vic!”

My heart leapt. “Marcus! I’m almost there!”

Two creatures wrestled violently in front of me, bashing into others and blocking my path. With a frustrated roar, I drew back and cut them all down together. They fell in a jumble of bony limbs, and I shoved my way around them.

A hand grabbed my ankle. I liberated it from its grasp. Some guy turned around and screeched in my face, so I put a hole through to the back of his skull.

Objectively, on some far-removed plane, I knew it was all horrific, and these memories would have to be suppressed or else I’d run the risk of losing my mind when it was all over. But in the moment, I clung to the thought that Marcus needed me. It was like I put myself in a box, armored by the necessity of my mission, and that box protected me from all else.

I did a lot more slashing, more swearing, and more indiscriminate shoving. The sword whistled and hummed around me as it helped me do the dirtiest work I’d ever done. These had been people at one point, not long in the past. Real people, with families, and homes, and pets. All gone now. These creatures were no longer human. I was giving them peace instead of letting them linger on as monsters. It was my only solace.

This was all to blame on Rocco Durant and that shitkicker Delano. He’d have to be dealt with, too, ultimately.

Not yet. Don’t think too far ahead. Find Marcus.

I’d gotten far enough that Marcus was easily findable. He’d worked himself into a kneeling position, and whenever a hungry creature got too close, he’d clobber it with the heavy shackles on his wrists. I had to admire his ingenuity. He was bloody, but his wits had kept him alive so far. The man was a fighter.

When he saw me push through the last layer of the once-human blockade, his whole face lit up. He was looking older again, his hair fine and almost completely gray. The lines around his mouth and eyes had never looked so deep.

It scared me, but he brought me out of it by holding out his arms so that I could see the irons. “Cut them off, Vic, quickly! Then we fight our way out!” His tone was jarringly jovial. It warmed my heart.

I sliced through the manacles, and then I did the same for the cuffs on his ankles. He stood up immediately, shaking the blood back into his extremities. “Are you looking forward to this?” I shouted. “Because I’m scared shitless!”

“My thanks!” he answered back. “Fear not, Vic! In battle is the most noble way for men—and women—to die!”

That did not help. It did help to have my friend back, though. His naturally buoyant spirit lifted me up from the sea of madness around us. I glanced at the sword in my hand. Should I have given it back? Marcus hadn’t asked, and I was getting used to the feel of the thing. Plus, I had no other weapon.

There were much fewer vampire prototypes in the pit now, thanks to my rampaging quest to find Marcus, but the remaining creatures still looked like a lot, and with less of the others to occupy them, they focused their intensity on us.

“Stay close to me!” Marcus called over his shoulder. “If we separate, we cannot help each other!”

I backed up until my shoulders were almost touching his, and I brandished the sword. The horde surged toward us, drooling and glaring with their clawed hands outstretched. Their teeth gleamed with a ghastly, hellish glow when they got in range of my sword’s light. I sucked in a deep breath, let it out, and willed my mind to stabilize.

My eyes closed for a moment, and when I opened them, I felt like a renewed person.

“Let’s do this.”

The sword burned through the air, drawing designs with the afterglow of its strikes. The embers from burning remains danced around us, smoldering when they hit the ground, erupting into flames when they came in contact with hair, clothes, or, occasionally, papery skin. I became slowly but surely inured to the constant droning screams of the damned, to the point where I either didn’t hear it anymore or I’d gone deaf.

It wouldn’t have made a difference either way. My only purpose in life had become to escape the pit. I could think about everything else when it became relevant again.

On my right, Marcus moved like a well-oiled machine, demonstrating the techniques he had been trying to teach me in flawless fashion. Although he was fighting without the blessed weapon of a god, he cut down his shrieking foes in equal, if not greater numbers. The corpses were starting to pile up around us, like horrid snowdrifts. Many of them were beginning to crumble away, but not all. It was helpful, in a way. It kept the living from approaching in any direction other than straight on.

They fell without much effort on my part. Kronin’s blade made short work of them. The tricky part was when they decided to swarm, which seemed to be happening with greater and greater regularity. Then, I had to pull out the fancy maneuvers, less reliable than my good old slash-and-hack method.

I whipped the sword over my head, bringing it down in a crazy spin. Body parts scattered in every direction, pelting the next wave of proto-vamps as they began their assault. It was grim as hell, but it got results.

“Good, Vic!” Marcus bellowed over the din of his own attacks. “You are much improved!”

I glanced toward him just in time to see him fell three of the vamplets in quick succession. The guy was in beast mode.

I had been in beast mode, but my stamina was beginning to falter. All my sword slinging muscles burned. I couldn’t believe the thing was so damn heavy. Exhaustion threatened to overcome the limited reserves of adrenaline still struggling to supply my body with the energy I needed to keep going. The sword seemed to gain a pound with every swing.

How much longer could I keep it up?

During a rare reprieve, I leaned the blade on the floor of the pit and bent over to catch my breath. That was when I noticed the blood all over my hands and arms, running down my legs, and seeping out through ragged holes in my clothing. I had no recollection of ever being hit, but it was unrealistic to expect to emerge from this encounter unscathed.

“Marcus.” I felt wobbly on my feet. “I don’t think I’m doing so good.” The lull in action had given my body time to process and expel the rest of the adrenaline. I was shaky and spent.

More were still coming. Damn it to hell. How many were there?

“Rally, Vic!” He came over and helped me straighten up. “Draw power from your wounds. When the battle is through, there will be plenty of time to rest and recover, but we have not yet broken onto the other side.” He looked up. “Not much longer. I will handle the bulk of the rest.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” My vision blurred as I labored to steady myself under the sword. I saw the fiery blade weaving back and forth. In the field of the emptying pit before me, a single vampire came into focus. She was bigger than most of the others had been, her arms and hands more developed. The points of her nails dripped with someone else’s blood.

She had battle scars.

“I don’t think you’re part of this class,” I said, mostly to myself. She wasn’t listening, even if she could hear my weak, raspy voice. Her eyes were not as cloudy and dazed as the others. She was focused right on my face.

I barely managed to track her after she jumped. My downward chop with the sword was ninety percent estimated. It found some part of her, but not before those nails had gouged their way down through the already-injured flesh of my upper chest. I looked down in shock and saw her hand, driven down to the knuckle, sticking out of my skin. The fingers twitched.

I screamed.

Much of what happened after that was a blur. I started to bleed in a serious way, and Marcus, alerted by my screaming, went into berserker overdrive. He was the one who finished off the last of the stragglers, assessed my injury, and half-hauled my ass out of there. The pit was closing as we neared the top. I remembered the rumble of the cover inching its way toward us. Marcus cut an opening in the edge with the sword.

He laid me out on the slaughterhouse floor, face up, with the hideous gashes in my flesh exposed for the world to see. The chamber was eerily quiet. The soundproof doors must have been closed, and Rocco was nowhere to be found. He’d probably split after I jumped into the pit, thinking his job was done.

We were alone.

“Relax your breathing,” Marcus told me. “Heavy aspiration may trigger your heart to enter a state of panic, which will only increase your blood loss.” He smiled. His face was blurred over my head. “I have seen worse in my time. Everything will be all right.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but it was nice to hear, even if I knew that my life was flowing out of me at a steady pace. I let my eyes fall closed until I felt him leaning over me again. “Drink this,” he said and tilted his open flask into my mouth.

The liquid inside was thick and sweet, like honey mixed with flowers. At first, I could barely get it down, but then it began to fill me with a warmth that blotted out the pain. My eyelids grew so heavy I could no longer open them, but this fact did not bother me at all. I was perfectly content to lay there as my body did… something.

Marcus’s voice floated into my consciousness on a cloud. “Be still, Vic. You are healing. You must let your body mend for a time.”

That’s fine, I wanted to say. My lips wouldn’t form the words. The warmth pulled me gently down toward deep, enveloping sleep.

Then a different force kicked in. I was immediately elevated out of dreamland, wide awake and riding a tsunami of the most incredible power I’d ever felt. I tried to call out to Marcus and ask him what was happening, but I still couldn’t speak, move, or open my eyes. It was less soothing now.

The tsunami swelled over me, crashing around and through my body. Its wild strength infused into my bones, my muscles, and my spirit.

I could feel it changing me.

I could also feel Marcus moving around. His footsteps presented visually in my mind. I traced his progress, circling me, checking the door, and looking down into the pit in case we had missed any of Rocco’s fleet of vampires. Marcus looked alarmingly weak to me, but I chalked it up to my own exhaustion. He just needed time to get back to full force. Even soldiers chosen by the gods had their limits.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I became aware of Rocco’s renewed presence long before Marcus did. The mob boss approached from the other side of the double doors, and I tried my best to warn Marcus somehow, but I couldn’t make my body do anything, despite the electric current of energy Marcus’s flask had given me.

Marcus was standing with his back to the doors when Rocco hit him.

Trapped in my healing body, I screamed without a voice. I struggled to force my limbs to respond to my commands. Nothing worked. My eyes were still closed, but I could see them in my mind.

Marcus was losing.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

If I had known Marcus was so weak, I never would have let him fight. I would have dragged myself up out of that pit or died trying. I wouldn’t have allowed him to shoulder the burden of saving me. I didn’t know he was just going to get his ass beat by Rocco Durant.

By the time I realized what was happening, it was too late. Marcus was matched in stature to Rocco, but not in weight, and his strength was starting to flicker out. He had not had the sword hilt in his hand when Rocco attacked, and the first thing Rocco did was wrench it off Marcus’s belt and toss it out of reach of both of them.

“You and me,” he said, smiling that awful smile. “Fair fight. Let’s go.”

It wasn’t a fair fight. I knew it as I lay some feet away, swimming through a daze of healing. In my trance state, I had the ability to understand how strong they were on a level that was deeper than squats and bench presses. It was a weird glimpse into a world I had never even considered before.

I could see the vitality of Marcus’s spirit, and I also knew that spirit was slipping away.

Not because of Rocco but because of the wound in his back. It had spread while we were separated, and now, I caught sight of it whenever Marcus’s back was to me, a network of dark veins spiderwebbing hungrily over his torso. The wound he had suffered in Carcerum was consuming him.

I didn’t want to watch Marcus die, but my eyes stayed glued to the fight, even as the tears welled up under my eyelids. Rocco’s punches were hard and unforgiving, frighteningly relentless. Marcus’s weakening form gave way under his might. It wasn’t even. Rocco Durant had become a vampire and harnessed the full strength burgeoning in the ones we had slaughtered in the pit. He would not stop unless pierced through the heart or taken apart by the sword.

I knew this as surely as I knew my own name. And that knowledge followed me as I broke through the surface, back into the waking world.

My body still wouldn’t work, but I was fully present in it again, and I could open my eyes. The space just above my heart that the vamp lady had tried to vent for me no longer felt like it was releasing my soul into the next realm. I knew I was very close to moving. Just not quite there.

Marcus lay limp under Rocco’s pummeling strikes as the mob boss finally began to slow down. He was panting, gasping, and coughing. I wished a heart attack on him right then and there, but it failed to materialize, like so many of my other wishes.

Instead, the large man crawled, wheezing, off of Marcus and shambled over to me.

“Good,” he said, upon looking down into my face. “You’re awake. I’d hate for you to miss this.” His hand ran a sleazy path over my leg that made me flush with rage and disgust. His gaze traveled down my body. “I meant what I said, you know?” He lowered his voice. “You’re not a bad looker, kid. What do you say we make the most of our time together, huh?”

If I could have thrown up, I would have. I’d never asked for an extreme close up of Rocco Durant’s face, but I was getting an extended one as he leered over me. I knew exactly what he was thinking; I could see it in his ugly, lecherous mug. I would rather die than let him do that to me.

I had a plan brewing, though, and sometimes, plans require a little sacrifice. Or a lot.

“You’re gorgeous when you can’t talk, sweetheart. I bet you’ve heard that one before.” He chuckled at himself and smoothed the tattered remains of my shirt. “Looks like my little pets did most of the job for me, huh? Before you killed them all, that is.” His grin widened into a shark’s rictus. “I’m impressed, little lady. Most people woulda been chum inside of ten seconds if they ever did something as stupid as you did. I’m not sure you know how lucky you are. That’s all right. Rocco will teach ya.”

I felt my diaphragm straining to inflate. My heart beat faster. I commanded my hand to ball into a fist. To my profound relief and delight, it did. Yes! I was that much closer to getting myself out of this.

Rocco reached down and grabbed my arms, one of each in his monster mitts. “Lemme help ya, sweetie. Life ain’t nothin’ without a little romance, am I right?” He wrapped my arms around his generous waist, and he propped himself up over me. The gaudy tie hit me in the face.

He laughed.

I let him amuse himself with that, despite the fact that I would have liked nothing more than to throttle him with it. He didn’t notice my hands creeping ever so slowly down to his back pocket, which had been made baggy, presumably by a bankroll or wallet the size of a paperback novel. The outline of something precious stood out against the fabric. Two more of those syringes.

Should have kept them all in your jacket, Casanova.

I withdrew my hand with the patience of a surgeon, enduring a thorough and much too close examination of my facial features. His thumb mapped my cheeks and jaw.

“I think you’re gonna make one hell of a specimen, toots,” he said. “I sure hope you live through it. You might be the one who helps us fulfill god’s master plan in the end.” He sat up. I gasped a little as more air was squeezed out of me. “Imagine it. You saw the fury of those pesky little shitbags up close, and that was only Stage One. We’re gonna have an army of full-fledged vamps. Hundreds of thousands of ‘em laying waste to the human world.” He shook his head in greasy wonder. “I never realized how completely useless humans were. Don’t do nothing except eat, piss, shit, and screw. Work? Means nothing. Money? Means nothing. You’re still gonna die someday.

“Vamps don’t have that problem. And now, I’m one of ‘em, so neither do I. And soon, that’ll be you, too.” He patted my cheek a little harder than strictly necessary. “Look alive, sweet cheeks! It’s the best damn day of your life.”

It sure was, but not for the reasons he thought.

With an effort that would have been lauded by Kronin himself, I heaved my waking arm up from where I’d let it fall off his back. The syringe from his pocket sat soldier-ready in my hand. Coordination was still something of a problem, but he had a neck like a damn Sequoia, and that made things easier for me. I felt the needle hit home. Not exactly where I wanted it, but close enough.

Rocco’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. I held the plunger down for as long as I could, and then I dropped it. He fumbled at the needle in his neck. “You… you…”

His hands slapped the floor, pushing him away from me. I watched him stagger backward, half crouched, his thick arms outstretched.

My tongue formed two crucial syllables in my mouth. The only two I needed.

“Fuck you.”

He didn’t respond outside of more incoherent babbling. A thread of drool hung from the corner of his mouth. “What… what have you done?”

I eased myself up on my hands. The motion was flooding back into my body. I felt better than ever.

“From the looks of it,” I said. “I just killed you.”

Then, Rocco Durant did something I did not like at all.

He started to laugh.

It began as a high-pitched, wheezy giggle that deepened gradually into something more coarse and malicious, a regular devil laugh. That was around the point where I wondered if I might have made a mistake. I had assumed that another whole vial of concentrated vampire blood would just destroy him outright.

It was looking like that was not the case.

“Shit.” I got to my feet in a hurry, backing away from him. All his blood vessels popped out under his skin, a network of red and blue. The skin itself had flushed almost purple over the course of about thirty seconds. Even the capillaries in his eyes bulged.

“Shit!” I said again. I turned and ran for the sword.

I knew where it was; it had skidded into a corner after Rocco threw it. So, the issue wasn’t its location as much as it was my speed. I thought I was moving faster than I’d ever moved in my life, even at a half strength, I-just-woke-up-from-a-healing-coma lope, but unless my ears deceived me, Rocco Durant was on the chase.

He was a fast old bastard now, thanks to my quick thinking. How was I supposed to know the benefits of vampire blood were stacking, not fatal?

I never ceased to amaze myself with my own innate ability to screw things up.

Somehow, I got to the sword, and I picked it up. It was burning by the time I turned back to face Rocco. I didn’t want to start off this fight trapped in a corner. Maybe he’d be twice as tall now. Or have four legs or four arms. Claws, a tail, horns that shot venom? It was all fair game as far as I knew.

Not even this open-minded approach was enough to prepare me for Rocco Durant’s second vamp transformation. I felt my mouth drop open as I took him in.

Nope. No. Absolutely not.

This was not what I had signed up for.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The monstrosity formerly known as Rocco Durant towered over me, its hulking shoulders dwarfed by a pair of leathery wings that stretched out six feet in either direction. His face was a grotesque amalgamation of the one I knew mixed with a wild animal’s. Sickly pale, almost translucent skin stretched over a brand-new jaw from which a crop of fangs bristled unevenly.

I was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to look like that. Clearly, I’d messed with vamp evolution by overloading him.

Every bit of exposed skin gleamed with a disgusting, slimy sheen. The long, grotesque fingers ended in ragged nails that were slightly curved on the ends, and obviously razor sharp. I thought back to the vamp in my loft, trying to get at me with a similar configuration. Hopefully, these would prove equally unwieldy.

I started to move in, keeping my eyes on as many points of danger as I could. The sword didn’t feel so heavy anymore—almost the same as the training sword I used with Marcus.

Marcus.

My eyes flicked to his body, lying where he had been taken down. His eyes were closed. He looked ragged, like a fresh corpse. But to my surprise, his chest hitched as it rose and fell. The tough old grandpa was still hanging on.

Okay, Vic, I told myself. You know what to do. Make this fast.

Marcus’s life still hung in the balance. I still had a chance to save him.

Rocco watched me with freakish eyes that seemed like they were popping out of his face. The sockets stretched nightmarishly to contain them. They resembled bat eyes. I wondered if he was blind or half blind.

At this point, I’d take either.

His lower half was heavy and strangely proportioned. Giant feet on muscular legs tapered up to a confusingly tiny waist. If I could mess with his center of balance and get him to roll on his back, killing him would be a piece of vampire cake. I’d have to get him on the ground anyway. His body had contorted and grown to nearly ten feet, too tall to try the upward thrust that had worked so well before.

Why did Rocco Durant have to make everything so complicated, right up until the bitter end?

“Hey!” I shouted. I even waved the sword to help him locate me, in case those eyes really didn’t do much for him. “Never thought I’d say this, but I liked you better before!” I gestured to my face. “That blood really messed you up in here, huh?”

The eyes narrowed into dark slits. I smirked. He was too vain to suffer insults about his appearance lightly, even in gross monster form, which was weird because he had always been staggeringly ugly.

I expected him to come shambling forward, but he moved with a surprisingly lithe kind of grace, like a predator built for one purpose. Whenever he moved, light glinted off the fangs fighting to burst from behind his pallid lips. There were way more than two crammed in that horrible maw. Could I afford to get close enough to stab him without getting bitten?

It was a chance I really didn’t want to take, but I didn’t have much of a choice. The stabby plan was the only plan. Let’s just hope he cooperates long enough to die.

We circled each other warily. His huge black eyes were glued to my face. In their bottomless depths, I thought I caught the sense of something moving. A shudder passed down my spine. Damn, he was creepy. And something told me he was going to be dangerously fast.

Soon enough, he proved my hunch correct. I only had a split second to catch him gearing up for the charge, but it was just barely enough. He came flashing toward me in a hideous blur, and I got ready to try and nail the right timing.

I’d always been athletic. My training had only increased my natural abilities, so I felt like I had a decent chance of at least moderate success. But man, he was quick. I felt him pass just under the flat of my blade. Damn it to hell!

My one saving grace was that I somehow followed through at a rate of speed at least approaching Rocco’s. I tracked his progress with supernatural ease through eyes that had been seeing double and triple only twenty minutes before. As he looped around for the second pass, I planted my feet like rocks, steeling myself for the strike. No wonder Marcus chugged that stuff in his flask all the time. It made me feel like a superhero.

Rocco’s eyes were set in obsidian slits. His posture began to change as he approached me, and I put it together that he was getting ready to pounce. Maybe he thought the sudden movement would throw me off enough that I’d screw up and impale myself or something. I had to admire his level of optimism. Little did he know how well the sword responded to me post-healing. It felt almost like an extension of my own body.

The second time he blew past me, I sliced at him with greater precision, a honed sense of purpose. The tip of the sword struck something; I felt the tiniest bit of resistance at the top of the swing. Rocco made a high hissing sound, which I soon realized was the noise made by a stream of ash falling from a gash in his upper arm. He clutched at it with one freakish hand, glowering at me.

I made a show of shaking off the sword. He didn’t like that, which meant I loved it. But knowing how fast he was presented me with my main problem—how to pin him down long enough to put the blade in his heart. He did not need to be told that slowing down was as good as death, if skill and luck were on my side.

I found myself perversely enjoying the puzzle of strength and logic. Was I actually having fun while Marcus clung to life on the floor? He’d be having more fun than me.

Until I got the old soldier back in working order, I’d have to have enough fun for the both of us. Clasping the god-king’s weapon in my right hand, I advanced on Rocco’s position. He still held onto his injured arm, staring at me with those unsettling jet-black eyes. There was no telling how much he saw, or what the world looked like to him.

Obviously, he could kill me if I made a wrong move. Also, obviously, he looked a little different than he used to. But he had always been able to kill me if I made a mistake, and so far, I’d scraped by. There was no need to be more afraid of him now that he was like Nosferatu’s crackhead cousin.

But he was still alive, and I needed to solve that problem before he figured out a way to solve his. He seemed to be most comfortable strafing me, relying on his crazy speed to keep him out of harm’s way. If I could stop him from moving somehow, I had a feeling I’d obtain the upper hand. And what better way to stop him than by using brute force?

It was my favorite strategy.

I kept creeping toward Rocco, pretending like I didn’t know exactly what he wanted to do. His hand fell away from the wound on his arm as he prepared to sprint at me again. Every time my blade twitched, it drew his inky gaze. I made a note of that—a distraction that could be used to my advantage. At the moment, however, I wanted to lull him into a false sense of security.

So, I stopped. Unsure of what my game was, he stopped too.

We stared each other down in a few perfect moments of stillness.

Then he came rocketing for me, claws and teeth flashing. I sent the sword on a wild goose chase through the air as I dodged, missing his gaunt form handily. He grinned, and that was when I recognized him most. Still made my skin crawl.

We effectively swapped positions.

“Is that all you got, you vamped-up piece of shit?” I taunted him as I scrambled backward.

A smile spread on his face. He broke into a hideous laugh. “I don’t need much more. You are just a spoiled little bitch. Me? I’ve transcended humanity.”

Rocco raised his thick arms as he cut a wide circle around me. He clearly thought he was homing in for the kill, but he was mistaken. Finally, the tables were turning in the culmination of our five-year fight.

He didn’t know it yet, but Rocco no longer had the upper hand.

“Come on then!” I screamed. My eyes narrowed in rage. “Let’s end this.”

I traced his trajectory with my new, steady eyes, pinpointing his exact location a few seconds into the future. Then it was my turn to run, blazing forward on stronger, faster legs. Rocco wasn’t the only one who was fast as hell. And by the time he learned, it was way too late.

The force of the collision sent us both flying into the wall. The building shuddered on impact. Wheezing, Rocco slashed furiously with his deadly nails, trying to get to my throat. I shoved back from him, answering his flailing with stabs of my own. Even confined between me and the wall, he was still fast. The point of the sword cascaded sparks whenever it struck the wall instead of Rocco.

A wayward nail caught me just barely in the face, opening a long scratch over my cheek. I winced enough for Rocco to push me backward. We tumbled to the floor, still tearing at each other. Not the way I had envisioned things to go, but I was nothing if not a scrapper. Still, he was strong, and I struggled to get over top of him. The hideous caricature of his face, hairless and leering, loomed over mine. A thread of saliva hung from the corner of his mouth.

“It’s over. You’re the kill I will never forget.” He spoke with hot foul breath.

He pinned the hilt of Kronin’s sword up against my body, the blade so close to my face that I could hear it humming and feel the edge of its searing heat. Beads of sweat stood out on my skin. If it even touched me, I was sure I’d die. The thing was made to kill monsters; I’d seen what it did to humans. Every muscle in my body strained to keep it away from me.

Every muscle in Rocco’s body strained for the opposite. There was only one way this temporary stalemate could end.

I looked deep into his black, emotionless eyes, searching for any remnant of the man he used to be. All I needed was a shred of the hate I felt for him to ignite a wildfire within my soul. If I could get to that place, I could win. Because deep down, it wasn’t about Rocco Durant the vampire. He hadn’t been a vampire when he shot my parents.

He had just been a good-for-nothing sack of shit. And that was who I needed to kill.

“I know you’re in there,” I told him around clenched teeth. “And the second I see you—you’re as good as dead!”

At first, there was nothing. Just pupil-less black orbs. Then, something vague stirred down inside them. Something I recognized from that night at the docks when I had my gun up in his face.

The ghost of fear.

His merciless grip loosened almost imperceptibly, but I felt it. I lunged with all the strength in my body, sending him splaying across the floor. My momentum, unchecked, carried me up and over, into the position for which I had been battling unsuccessfully. Now I was the one looking down in triumph, Rocco’s mutilated face cast in the fiery glow of the god-king’s sword.

His black eyes bugged out. We both knew it was the end of the line.

“No. It is I that will remember.” Strength of the gods surged through me. I knew it was over. “Now go rot in hell where you belong.”

Kronin’s sword went straight into his heart. The death was so instantaneous that he only had time to open and close his mouth once. Like before, his features sort of slipped back toward normal as he died, then disintegrated.

I felt no remorse at all.

The pile of ash from Rocco Durant spread over the bare concrete, as if even his base atoms couldn’t bear to be near each other any longer. I leapt to my feet and ran until I could drop to my knees at Marcus’s side.

“Hey,” I said urgently, resisting the desperate urge to shake him. “Marcus. Can you hear me? It’s Vic.”

He looked worse than before. My heart told me he was halfway through death’s door, but I couldn’t bring myself to give up on him.

“Vic.” He spoke just above a whisper and tried to smile.

“Wait. Quiet. I got you.” I looked around for his flask, spotted it, and snatched it up. “Here. This will fix you, right? It fixed the hell out of me.”

I frowned. Something didn’t feel right. I shook the vessel a little.

It was empty.

“Oh, Marcus,” I whispered. “No.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Why?” I bent over him and took his hand. It was cold in mine. “You gave me the last of it. Why?”

The tears in my eyes made his face swim. I wiped them away fiercely. I wanted to remember that face for the rest of my damned life.

Marcus took a labored breath. “Forgive me, Vic. I did not tell you…” He trailed off, took another breath, and resumed. “The wound I sustained in Carcerum was always going to kill me. There is no escaping Lorcan’s curse.”

“Lorcan?” I frowned. “You said he wasn’t the god of death. You said he couldn’t do that.”

“Anyone can kill,” Marcus answered. “You know that now.”

I blinked back the tears. “This can’t be happening. There wasn’t enough time. And I acted like such an ass.”

“Perhaps that is a fault which lies with us both.” He gripped my hand harder. “Now, listen. I do not have much longer.”

I sat back. “Okay.” Just this once, I could do what he asked and listen. I owed it to him.

“Do not be angry with me,” he began. “It is too late for that. But someone had to drink the nectar. And I chose you.” He indicated the flask with his other hand. “That has imbued the strength of Carcerum unto you. You must take up my mantle and fulfill my mission.” A sigh escaped him, and I leaned down again, petrified that I was on the verge of losing him. “I am sorry. It was a dishonorable way to do it, but I had no choice. I wanted to save you.”

A tear escaped and rolled down my cheek. “Me?”

“You.” His smile turned sad. “Do not weep for me. Weep for the people I was unable to save. And then avenge them. Protect your people.”

“But…” I grappled with the reality of what was happening. There had to be some way to stop it, to trigger the magic that would let Marcus stay. “But we never found your warrior. What about the yogurt guy?”

He laughed fitfully. “You are still so dense. I did find my warrior.” His eyes softened. “She is looking right at me. It was always you. But I was too blind…”

As his words dawned on me, a strange burden settled on my mind.

“I’m not ready.” I didn’t know why I kept protesting except that I wanted Marcus to remain a little longer. “Also, you said the warrior had to spar with you. We never did that.”

“Yes, we did. In practice, perhaps, but your spirit was so fierce that it mattered not.” He squeezed my hand again. “Tell me you will accept it, Vic. Tell me you will strive to love this world in the way it deserves. Find the gods, banish them. Let your noble people live in peace.”

More tears had started to fall. “We’re not noble,” I said, my voice cracking. “But you are. And your nobility, it gives me hope. If you want me to take up the mantle, I will.”

“Thank you.” He blinked, but his eyes stayed closed for such a long time that I started to panic.

“Marcus? Marcus.”

“Did you know?” He opened his eyes halfway. “In Rome, we Centurions were given more than one name. Two, sometimes three. Do you have a name other than Vic?”

Confused, I answered without thinking. “Victoria.”

He smiled. “My second name… was Victorius.”

I lost it. I couldn’t help it. I tried to stem the sobs for fear that he would die while I was bawling over him, but they just wouldn’t be contained. Even though it hurt like crazy, it was also cleansing.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” I sobbed. “Don’t.”

He moved his hand a little. “I will never leave you, Victoria. Remember what I said. And… protect the people.”

“How? I don’t know anything.”

Marcus squeezed my hand, and he said it again. “Protect the people. And take my medallion.”

Then his eyes closed. His hand went limp in mine.

And he was gone.

What happened directly after Marcus died happened so quickly that I wasn’t sure I was seeing it or just imagining. I saw it in his face first.

I was horrified, but the shock morphed quickly into wonder.

The aging process I had seen before began anew, but rapidly. His eyes sank into his skull, his skin loosened, and his lips disappeared. The hand still holding mine grew frail and brittle. His true age came through in a body that had carried him for thousands of years.

I didn’t let go until it was little more than bones wrapped in skin.

Marcus Victorius, First Cohort of the Roman Army, faded from Earth somewhat less obtrusively than he had arrived on it after an interval of two thousand years. He left me kneeling on the second floor of a newly re-abandoned slaughterhouse, head down, weeping softly into my lap.

I felt so very alone.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there, folded up beside the place where my friend had spent his last minutes. The next leg of the journey had to begin without him, and I didn’t want to do it. I wanted to find somewhere soft and warm and dark, crawl in, curl up, and sleep until nothing hurt and I was whole again.

I couldn’t do that, so instead, I stood up to go home. The waning afternoon light caught on a piece of metal on the floor.

It was Marcus’s medallion.

Cautiously, I leaned down and picked it up, cradling it in my hands. The coat of arms gleamed up at me. I traced its curved lines with my fingers, and I remembered what Marcus had said about it.

It is said to keep the spirits of my father and our ancestors close, should I need them.

Well, Marcus was not my dad, but he had left this treasure for me, and I was determined to honor him through it. I lifted the golden chain and put it around my neck. The medallion settled beside my heart. It was warm, and then it got warmer. A glow that matched his hero-king’s sword emanated from the golden engraving.

Comforting.

A breeze passed through the room, spiraling in through one of many broken windows. I heard a familiar voice tug at the back of my mind.

I jumped in shock and then began laughing. It was a sweet, joyous sound, and it echoed through the room.

Shaking my head, I said, “You and your damn magic keep surprising me.”

Ah, Victoria, Marcus said in my mind. At long last, you believe.

I smiled. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

Good. Then let us go kill some gods.

Epilogue

The demigod stood with his back straight, his hands clasped behind him and looking out the picture window of the office on the top floor. His master was behind the desk like always, turned away from him. Lorcan did not like to talk to others’ faces unless the matter was very grave. He preferred the aura of mystery inherent to his myth, particularly now that he was free to roam at will, no longer confined to Carcerum.

What sweet freedom it was.

“My Lord,” Delano said softly, deferentially. “I have news.”

“Good news?” Lorcan asked.

Delano sighed. “And bad, my Lord. I am sorry we have disappointed you.”

“Indeed.” Lorcan drummed his gloved fingers on the arm of his chair. “Begin with the positive.”

“The Centurion has been found—and killed.”

Lorcan smiled wide, his fingers coming to a rest. “This is excellent news indeed. That fool Marcus, always Kronin’s favorite pet. It’s a pity I didn’t get to witness his demise myself. But no matter. How did you fail me?”

“We have lost one of our locations.” Delano braced himself for a burst of Lorcan’s infamous temper, which, though rare, was the stuff of legends.

Before Carcerum, Lorcan had engulfed an entire citadel in the realm of shadow in order to punish a wayward king. He had extinguished towns by depriving them of light, just as a token of his displeasure.

Delano admired him so very much.

“Which one?” Lorcan’s fingers began to drum again. His voice betrayed no hint of emotion. “Not the slaughterhouse, I hope.”

Delano winced. “It… was the slaughterhouse, my Lord.”

Delano half suspected that Lorcan already knew and simply asked just to make his servant uncomfortable. It was part of his nature, after all. Not even his friends were exempt from the barest hints of his malice. Lorcan considered it a gift. To himself, as well as to others.

Now, the greater god sighed with melodramatic flair. “Oh, and there was so much potential there.” He turned his chair a few degrees. “Why is it, my dear Delano, that forces consistently oppose my plans?” The chair inched around a little more. “Which one of the greater beings accomplished this? Don’t fear. I know it wasn’t you. You are my most faithful, purest sycophant.”

“I am, my Lord.” Delano grimaced. “But it wasn’t at the hand of a god or an apprenti. A human destroyed the plant.”

“A human?” Lorcan fought the urge to rub his temples. “How did he accomplish this?”

“She, actually my Lord. I believe that the woman was working with the Roman.”

Lorcan nodded, a sick feeling suddenly coming over him. He felt he knew the answer to his next question before he asked it.

“What are you not telling me, Delano? Even with Marcus’s help, she should not have been able to stop that rat Durant, not after he had my blood pumped into his veins.”

“You’re right, my lord. As always.” Delano played his part perfectly. He had not clawed his way this far up the ranks through dumb luck alone. He knew exactly how to fill Lorcan’s intentional silences, how to massage the ego of a god, and how to turn his phrases so that Lorcan would listen without ripping his head off. He was very good at his job. “The woman, she possesses the Gladius Solis.”

The name of Kronin’s sword cast a pall over the room. Lorcan swiveled back toward the window, sulking. Since the fall of Carcerum, he had allowed himself the hope that the cursed instrument had been destroyed. To know that it had fallen into the hands of a human woman was simply unacceptable.

The chair turned ever so slightly. The shadow of Lorcan’s legs was visible now, long and trim in precisely pressed black trousers. For a being who so seldom deigned to be in the view of others, he took great pride in his appearance.

“Delano.”

“My Lord?”

“Tell me you know what your next mission will be.”

Delano smiled slightly. “I can guess, my Lord. None of our weapons will matter as long as she, or one of the other gods, is in possession of the sword.”

“Correct,” said Lorcan. “So?”

“So, I will bring the sword to you, my Lord.”

“Amazing.” Lorcan settled back into his chair with a smile, the tension leaving him. Delano always knew exactly what to say. “You never disappoint me, Delano.”

“I strive not to, my Lord. And what shall I do with the girl? Releasing her would be most unwise.” He couldn’t imagine allowing a pest with her potential to go free, which was apparently exactly what Rocco Durant had done, the mutant dunce.

“You are correct once again, my servant. Bring the girl to me, along with the blade. I have a feeling that we will have much to discuss.”

Delano inclined his head in total respect. “For you, Lord Lorcan, I will do anything.”

“Yes.” Lorcan’s head returned to the proper position on his neck. His smile relaxed. He clapped his hands. “You, Delano, can do anything. And that is why you belong to me.” He settled his hands in his lap, and the great chair rotated slowly back to face the view of the city below. “Such a wonderful, terrible, awful place, isn’t it?” he observed absently.

“It is, my Lord.”

Lorcan nodded. “I will be pleased when it has been burnt to the ground.”

The End

Vampire Concept Art

Artwork by Eric Quiqley

Lorcan Concept Art

Artwork by Eric Quiqley

Author Notes - Chris Raymond

March 7, 2018

Dear Readers,

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

You’ve made it this far, and we are so glad you gave Forgotten Gods a shot!

Now, a little something about us. ST Branton, the author who wrote the book, is really the love child of dynamic duo Chris Raymond and Lee Barbant. Over the past several years, we’ve been writing together in the wee hours of the night and teaching together at the University during the day.

Frankly, I’m not sure how we haven’t broken up yet!

So, after writing superhero books in the city of Pittsburgh (The Steel City Heroes), scifi thrillers across these United States (The Jack Carson Stories), and an epic eight book—and counting—magical fantasy taking place in the far future (The Rise of Magic), why the hell would we use a pen name?

Good question.

Well, there’s plenty of reasons for it… but for now, let’s just say, it is a rebranding for a fresh series.

Now, onto the official author notes.

I love writing. Love it. Really.

I love the fact that people want to read our stories, and Lee and I get to weave together tales about good and evil, with characters fraught with issues to overcome and dragons to slay (or gods to defeat). In the process they make both themselves and the world a better place.

I had dabbled in writing for years. Short stories. Crappy romantic poetry. Non-fiction. Academic mumbo-jumbo.

But my first real fiction books were written for my daughter Simone. She was young, but ahead of her years as a reader. Mrs. Raymond and I were at our wits end trying to find books she would enjoy with content we would approve. So, I figured, why not write some stories for my little girl! Months later, the Arcanum Island Series was born. (It has since been pulled for reworking and will be republished in Summer of 2018).

A year later, after a few drinks, Lee and I decided to write together. We made a pretty good run at it, sold a bunch of books, and had a load of fun in the process. But before long, we’d developed a friendship from afar with bestselling author Michael Anderle (The Kurtherian Gambit Universe) and somehow managed to talk him into letting us write in his world, which was teaming with possibilities (and readers!).

Michael’s taught us a ton, most importantly about how to write a story that is kickass, while giving the readers what they’re looking for when they grab a book. Hopefully, we’re getting closer and closer.

Urban Fantasy has been one of my favorite genres for a long time. But before I met Harry Dresden or any other of the heavy hitting UF heroes, there were the gods. I grew up with a fascination with the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian pantheons. Pair that with a ridiculous amount of Dungeons and Dragons through my formative (non-dating years), and Vic and the Forgotten Gods series makes perfect sense!

There’s a lot more coming. The layers of the Forgotten world will be peeled back in each book. I think you’ll like what Vic will be facing in the next one!

Cheers!

Chris

PS: Since this is the first book in a new series, I’ll make the shameless plug right off the bat. If you liked Forgotten Gods, please, please, please take a minute to drop a review on Amazon and pass along the recommendation to a friend. Thanks so much!

Author Notes - Lee Barbant

March 7, 2018

Wow, what a great book, right? Such action. Such humor. Such heart. Of course, I’m more than a little biased. I helped write it after all.

For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Lee Barbant (@lebarbant). I’m a new dad, a cat lover (specifically, a crotchety old tabby who hates the fact that I’m a new dad), and one part of the creative team behind ST Branton.

You’ve heard this from my partner already, but I wanted to start by first saying thank you so much for reading the book (and for reading these notes). We’re really excited about this project, and the fact that you all gave it a chance means everything.

Secondly, I’d like to thank everyone on the Forgotten Gods Facebook Group who helped craft this story. Your input made this book what it is (for good or for bad. I personally blame you all if it fails).

If you’re interested in supporting this project further, please PLEASE, head on over to Amazon and leave the book a friendly review. Then check us out on Facebook. We’re always looking for suggestions on how to improve our storytelling, and the folks in the group can tell you we take fan advice seriously.

OK, on to the next book.

For Kronin!

Lee

PS: Want to grab a fast, fun, thrill ride of a read from me and Chris for FREE?

Yeah, I thought so.

Click here to sign up for our mailing list (or go to: https://www.subscribepage.com/chris_and_lee) for a copy of The Devil’s Due.

Goddess Scorned

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 2

Chapter One

In my former life, I would have been terrified while getting chased down dark alleys by vampires who wanted to kill me. That night, I was having fun. The dickheads hounding me down the alley didn’t know it yet, but they were in for the surprise of their miserable lives.

The narrow, grimy passages flashed by to the furious beat of my own footsteps. I could hear the bloodsuckers behind me, closing in. A grin spread across my face as I careened around the last corner, the soles of my shoes skidding on the pavement. They whooped triumphantly when they saw the dead end ahead. One of them even yelled out, “Stupid bitch!”

Typical.

The smile on my lips morphed into one of satisfaction. I slipped my hand into the bag flapping at my side, closing my fingers around the familiar weight of a certain sword hilt. No doubt word of Kronin’s blade had made its way around whatever underground circles these toothy dipshits ran in, but it didn’t matter if they knew I had it.

They would die all the same.

A wall of old brick came rushing at me as I skidded to a stop. I narrowly avoided it before spinning on my heels to face the goon squad. To anyone else, they might have looked almost normal, if exceptionally ugly, but I was getting pretty good at picking the vamps out of a crowd. Then again, they were usually looking for me, too. So, maybe I had an unfair advantage, but whatever. In a war against mythical monsters, I would take every advantage I could get.

“I don’t know what the hell you were thinking,” one of them growled. The points of his teeth glinted from beneath thin, pale lips. He was gaunt, his skin a sickly grey. “But you sure know how to work up my appetite.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” I said in the most saccharine, insulting tone I could manage. “I’m not on the menu tonight.” My grip tightened on the hilt of the sword.

Showtime.

Loosing the weapon from the confines of my bag, I willed its brilliant blade into existence. The narrow alley filled with its burning golden light, and heat washed over my skin. The vamp’s hungry eyes tracked the edge of the sword for a split second. Then, his lips peeled back from the fangs entrenched in his gums.

I might have thought they were fake if I didn’t know otherwise, but recently, my eyes had been opened to a whole hidden world of gods and monsters. Now it was my job to kill every single one of them who dared to threaten humanity.

No big deal.

The lead vampire moved fast, but they all did, and after two weeks of dealing with their bloodsucking bullshit, their speed was something my reflexes were learning to handle. Plus, it helped that I was slightly more than human now.

Not only did I have the Gladius Solis, the sword of the god-king Kronin, but I had also tasted nectar from Kronin’s kingdom, Carcerum. The nectar had saved my life, but it gave me so much more than that. It gave me the strength to curb stomp this vampire and his shitty crew.

Before I could do that, I had a few questions I wanted to ask. These bastards might be able to tell me something interesting.

Shifting my weight backward, I raised Kronin’s sword at an angle just as the lead vamp pushed off into a charging leap. His shadow fell over me, and when I craned my neck back to keep an eye on his progress, I met a ruthless, predatory stare. He obviously thought I was about to die.

They always did.

Instead of dying, I drove the point of the sword between his outstretched hands, skewering him in the sternum like the world’s most unappetizing shish kebab. He managed to latch onto me for a moment, just long enough for his clawed nails to rip through the shoulder of my already beat-up sweater. I pushed the hilt forward as gravity drew him farther down the blade. He flung himself backward, freeing himself. His twitching limbs struck out at his friends, but they let him fall to the concrete.

No loyalty among the undead. It didn’t matter. They would be joining him soon enough.

The other four had formed a semicircle around me, so close that I smelled their dry, rotten breath. Their sharp eyes gleamed in the dark, even above the sword’s golden glow. The one in front of me licked his lips, making me want to barf.

“You have a strong heart,” he said. “I like that in my prey.”

I scowled. These guys made killing a lot more satisfying than it had any right to be. “I’ve got a strong swing, too. Let me demonstrate.”

The blade cut a gorgeous arc through the steadily deepening shadows. My target ducked, but one of his friends wasn’t so quick or lucky. The rush of the strike gave way to the sound of a head coming to rest somewhere down the alley. Its former body collapsed like a sandbag, spilling coarse dust around our feet.

The three remaining closed in tighter around me. A pair of hands grabbed for my throat, and the long edge of a nail grazed my neck. The vampire’s grip closed down, and a shot of adrenaline raced through my veins as I realized I couldn’t breathe.

Concentrate, Victoria. Steel your nerves,

Marcus’s voice snapped me back into the present. The gears in my mind stopped grinding. Pushing off the wall at my back, I rammed the sword forward with all the strength I could muster. It didn’t matter where it went. They were so close it was bound to hit someone. There was little resistance, but the telltale gurgling told me I was right on the money.

The latest casualty began to dissolve around the brand-new hole in his stomach, and I caught a fistful of his crumbling corpse and threw it at the others. They raised their arms to shield their bulbous eyes, and I took the opportunity to level the playing field. I swung low, cutting off one vamp at the knees. The other reached for me, and I severed his arms in one clean chop. On the ground, these dudes were a lot less intimidating. I hadn’t been scared of them since learning they could still feel pain.

The one farthest from me tried to crawl away on what was left of his legs, wheezing and cursing under his breath. I caught up with him in two steps and planted my foot squarely on his back. He half twisted to look up at me, squinting in the glare of the sword.

“Let me go, bitch,” he coughed. “What’s a guy with no legs gonna do?”

I shrugged. “Die.”

Another hard punch, and the sword went through him as if he wasn’t even there. Pretty soon, he wasn’t anything more than a vague depression left in the pavement by the force of the killing blow. I walked back to the lone survivor, smiling. “Congratulations, dickwad. You’re the last vamp standing. Or whatever, lying down. I guess that means you win.”

“You filthy whore,” he spat. The ragged lump of flesh that used to be his arm twitched and stretched, trying to regrow. I still had time—grievous injuries like those took longer to mend than a paper cut—unless he could find someone to feed on. “You ain’t getting nothing from me.”

“That’s interesting.” I knelt on his chest, bearing down with the point of my knee until he gasped. “Because I’m thinking you’re gonna sing like a canary.”

He spat for real this time, into my face. So, I forced his mouth open with the butt of the sword hilt and used it to crush one of his fangs from its socket. He made a muffled cry, underscored by the crack of bone. A network of veins spidered over his temples and down his neck.

When I pulled the sword out of his craw, he just glared. “Suck me off, you rotten mutt.”

I crushed the other fang before he could say anything. “Don’t push it, pal. This sword kills gods. What do you think it will do to you?”

He laughed confidently, but the ragged gaps in his grin spoiled the effect. “You think that’s the only thing that can kill gods? There’s other power out there—we’ll have a light of our own soon. Then, you and the rest of the world will get what’s coming to you.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Where’s your boss?”

That was all I really needed to know. Ever since the operation inside the old slaughterhouse had been shut down, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Lorcan’s minion, Delano—which made me more than a little nervous. At this point, I knew better than to assume he and his cronies were gone for good.

“I gotta give it to you,” said the vamp, his voice hoarse from the pressure on his chest. “You got some real big balls for a chick, but when he finds you, he’ll do worse than bleed you dry. His powers are beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. Your world will die screaming in darkness.”

“Not before you do.” I replaced my knee with the sword, pushing down until I felt the ground beneath his body. He took one last breath before his eyes rolled up.

Ten seconds later, I stood alone in a graveyard full of stony ashes, the sword hilt stashed away in my bag. The ever-present ambience of New York traffic hummed somewhere beyond the alley’s walls. It was a far better sound than the ravings of a dying vampire, but a certain Roman centurion had taught me not to discount such things off the bat. Which reminded me.

“How’d I do?” I asked the medallion that now housed the spirit of my former fighting partner. The arrangement was a little weird but growing on me. Marcus’s voice was like a louder, more persistent conscience.

You did well, but I question the sense of putting a holy relic like the Gladius Solis inside the mouth of a cursed entity, the old soldier said in my head.

I grinned, not put off by his disappointment. “I wanted to see if this thing could make him talk. Besides, I’m sure the sword of a hero god has seen worse than a little vampire spit.”

That is a fair assessment. But such a weapon deserves to be handled with a little more decorum, do you not think?

I smiled slightly. Marcus’s near-fanatical devotion to this thing was endearing. The two-thousand-year-old Roman centurion had worshiped Kronin like, well, like a god king. Kronin had entrusted the sword to Marcus with his dying breath, and it clearly meant a lot to him.

I was a fan of the Gladius Solis myself, considering how good it was in a fight.

“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll use some Lysol when we get home. He didn’t have shit to say anyway.”

Following the sound of traffic, I started to make my way out of the filthy labyrinth, but a weird feeling nagged at the corners of my mind, like I was forgetting something. I glanced over my shoulder, but there was nothing behind me except five inconspicuous piles of dust.

Then I pulled my phone out and saw what time it was. “Oh, balls. I have to run.”

Why? Marcus asked. You do not have an occupation.

“Thanks for the reminder that I’m unemployed.” I broke into a sprint. “But no, I forgot I was supposed to meet Jules for drinks.”

Ah, drinking. Marcus’s words took on a wistful note. One of the things I miss the most about residing on a physical plane. Sometimes, being your passenger has considerable drawbacks.

He went on, but I only half listened so I could focus on coming up with an excuse for my lateness that Jules might actually believe. She’d always been able to see straight through my bullshit, but I thought if she knew what was really going on with me, her head might explode. That, or she’d have me locked up in a padded room for being batshit crazy.

Lying made me feel bad, but some secrets—like mine—were just too big to tell.

Chapter Two

“Hey!” Jules waved to me from a corner table inside the tidy little bar she’d chosen as our meeting place. It was a far cry from the seedy dives I was used to, and I had to admit it was a nice change of pace.

I slid into the seat across from her.

“I was beginning to wonder if you forgot about me,” she said.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “Kind of got caught up in something.”

The bar’s décor was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world to me as I braced myself for Jules’s inevitable barrage of questions. She was a defense attorney, so she knew how to interrogate. These days, she was used to not taking me at my word, and to be fair, I could hardly blame her.

She just shrugged and studied the wine list. “You sound like me at work,” she said, chuckling. “I’m always getting lost in one thing or another. That’s what I get for trying to practice law in the city that never sleeps.”

“Hey, I tried to tell you it was nuts to go to law school, but you wouldn’t listen. Something about ‘making the world a better place.’” I was kidding, of course. If public defense had a face, it was Jules Lugnor. There was no one more selfless and giving in the world. She believed in justice, just like me, which might have been why we got along so well.

“I’m working on it.” Her voice had a weird edge, an undercurrent of something indistinguishable. After a moment of silence, she looked up at me and smiled. “But that’s nothing new. You want to hear something really crazy?” Jules leaned across the table, so I did too. “This needs to stay on the down low, obviously.”

“Right.” A conspiratorial little smirk crept across my lips. We all liked to think we were above gossip past the age of twenty, and she was probably breaking at least one law every time she told me something, but I secretly delighted in the things she shared. Plus, it gave me a way to see into her world, which was usually so far removed from my own.

Not this time.

“There’s been talk around the office.” She was whispering now. “You heard about what the police found in the Meatpacking District a couple of weeks ago, right?”

“I think so, yeah.” Understatement of my lifetime. I had been responsible for that mess.

“Well, a girl came in to speak to an attorney last week. She had a story to tell, but she didn’t think the police would believe her.”

I narrowed my eyes. “And she decided to talk to a public defender? Isn’t that, like, weird?”

“A little, maybe. But it could be smart, depending on what she had to say. And it let her take advantage of attorney-client privilege.”

It was a risk to sound too eager, but I really wanted to know what Jules was getting at. Maybe this girl knew more about Lorcan’s current whereabouts. “That sounds like it could be pretty crazy. I hope everything shakes out all right.”

Victoria. Perhaps the girl of which Jules speaks is one of the women you rescued from the cage. Marcus’s voice interrupted my thoughts, and even though I agreed with him, I frowned a little bit. I still wasn’t quite used to the sudden intrusion of someone else’s consciousness in my ears. The urge to shush him out loud was nearly overwhelming.

“We’ll see.” Jules took a sip of her drink and looked at me closely. “Wasn’t that right around the time I had to bail you and a certain someone out of jail?” Her mouth smiled, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about it, would you?”

I blinked, then forced a laugh. “Me? Of course not, Jules. Come on.” I made sure not to protest too much, lest she become suspicious. “The Meatpacking District’s all trendy now. We both know I can’t afford that shit.”

She was silent for two beats, apparently scrutinizing me. Then she laughed, and the sound broke the subtle tension that had begun to form between us. “Relax, Vic! I’m only kidding. Your friend was wearing armor, for Pete’s sake. Pretty sure the media would’ve jumped all over a guy in that kind of getup.” Her perfectly arched brows knit together. “What happened to him, anyway? Still bumming it out at your place?”

“No,” I said, maybe too fast. “He decided to move on a while ago.” For effect, I shrugged. “He was kind of a drifter, I think. Bit of a douche really.”

I am no such thing. Marcus interjected. I am a warrior.

“So he just left?” Jules gave me a look. “Where exactly did he go?”

It was my turn to look at her. “What do you mean?” I’d expected her to chuckle, shrug it off, and maybe express the hope that he landed on his feet. But she seemed to be focused on it, waiting expectantly for my answer. “How the hell should I know?”

My glass landed back on the table a little more heavily than intended. She was making me nervous.

“Just curious. It looked like you two got along pretty well. I would have assumed he’d leave you a forwarding address or something.”

There is no need for this “forwarding address,” said Marcus cheerfully. You have inherited my family’s medallion, and thus, you have custody of my spirit. It is an honor.

At the moment, it didn’t really feel like one. The beginnings of a headache were putting down roots in my temples.

“I don’t think he has one,” I told Jules lamely, desperate to change the subject. “Want me to go get us another round?”

She cast a glance over toward the bar. “Yeah, why not? There’s a guy up there who’s been checking you out since we got here. Maybe you can make a new friend.”

I believe your life would be positively enhanced by the addition of more friends.

“No thanks. I’ve got enough men in my life as it is.” Grabbing both our glasses, I headed up to the bar and set them in front of the bartender. “Can I get a refill?”

He gave me a friendly smile. “Sure. Give me just a second.”

It made me uneasy to stand with my back to the whole room, so I sank strategically down on one of the barstools to wait, scanning the area. Everyone in there was dressed better than me, drinking in dresses and button-downs, with phones and jewelry on full display. From a security standpoint, the finery didn’t make me feel better.

Rocco and his mafia friends had nice things, too. Well, Rocco didn’t have shit anymore. With any luck, he was rotting in the lowest level of hell after I killed his mutated vampire ass. Still, I didn’t know if he had any friends looking for me.

But if they had gold watches, I had a sword, and I was pretty sure that would give me the edge if some shit happened to go down. Bringing this particular sword to a gun fight no longer made me nervous.

Be at peace, Victoria. There are no threats here. Even without a body, Marcus’s smirk was audible in my mind. The amorous gentleman at the end of the bar is keen to make your acquaintance, judging by the way he keeps turning toward us. Perhaps you ought to take Jules’s advice.

“Please don’t talk about my sex life.” My voice stayed low. It was still strange to talk to Marcus out loud, but he couldn’t read my mind, which was both good and bad. “And how do you know there are no threats here? Can you read minds or something?”

I am simply both observant and experienced, if you must know. And besides, this location is much too refined for the likes of any underling. And if Lorcan himself were here, I would know.

“And you’d tell me, right?”

Of course.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my would-be admirer start to slide off his stool and approach me. He might’ve given me Deacon St. Clare flashbacks if he were even half as attractive. “Shit.”

“That guy isn’t coming to give you trouble, is he?” The bartender had returned with fresh drinks while I was preoccupied.

I turned to him, willing my nerves to steady up so that the drinks didn’t spill everywhere. “Ah, no. I was just leaving anyway.” Then I scuttled back to the table where Jules was waiting, an amused smirk on her face. I put her martini in front of her. “Don’t you say a damn word. Just drink.”

Jules swirled her olives around the glass, examining me again. “You know, I seem to recall you having a different attitude toward meeting boys in bars during college,” she said slyly.

This sounds like a tale I would very much like to hear.

Burying my face in my hands, I groaned. “Let’s not do this right now.”

I disagree. Let us proceed. Marcus’s invisible grin only widened with every passing second.

“Is it Ezra’s friend?” Jules prodded, somewhat gleeful. “What’s his name? The cop?”

“First of all, he’s FBI. He made it a point to let me know.”

“Ooh, spooky.” Another sip of the martini disappeared behind her lips. She was obviously enjoying screwing with me, and I couldn’t really blame her. It had been a long time since we’d last been able to just hang out as friends.

But she was really digging in here. “Second, I can’t believe you already forgot his name. You met him like a week ago. It’s Deacon.”

“Right.” She shrugged in a sue me kind of gesture. “I know so many law enforcement guys, Vic. He’ll have to stand out if he wants me to remember him.”

“What?” I asked. “His face isn’t enough?”

“Aha!” Jules slapped the table. “You do like him! I knew it!” Her giant smile was so infectious that I found myself returning it across the table.

“Shut up. I never said that. I plead the Fifth, your honor.” A blush threatened to creep up into my cheeks, but I forced it down through sheer willpower. I’d never hear the end of it if she saw me blushing over Deacon.

“That’s total crap, and you know it,” Jules said. “You’re incapable of physical attraction unless you like the guy too.”

Glancing away, I took a deep, purposeful pull from my beer. “This conversation is turning into slander.”

Jules rolled her blue eyes. “Would you stop being so defensive? I’m happy for you! I haven’t seen you exercise this much emotional capability since…” She trailed off, and we both were quiet for a minute. “I’m sorry,” she said at last. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t worry about it.” But the seed of melancholy had been planted, and in my tipsy state, I felt it spreading.

My parents’ murder had been five years ago, but bringing their killer to justice a couple weeks back had brought a lot of feelings back to the surface. Rocco was dead, but my parents were still gone.

The rest of my beer went down in one swallow. “I should go, though. I’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

“Okay.” She sighed, got up from her seat, and put her arms around me for a big squeeze. “Look after yourself, Vic. And don’t be a stranger. I’m always here for you.”

“I know. Thanks, Jules. I’ll see you later.”

She didn’t offer to walk out with me, for which I was grateful.

Chapter Three

Marcus was quiet for a while as I walked down Brooklyn side streets, winding my way toward a destination he didn’t know. My feet walked themselves through the dusky shadows of New York’s night. They knew where we were going, even if my heart didn’t want to admit it.

You never told me much about your past adventures.

I ran my fingers along the medallion’s chain. The feel of its gold links soothed me somehow. “I bet you wish she would’ve finished that story, huh?”

Personally, I was glad she hadn’t. Hearing about myself from back then, before life had broken into a million unrecognizable pieces, still hurt. Not as much as it used to, but a little more than I wanted to admit. It just made the “what-ifs” start full force in my brain.

What if my parents were still alive? What if I lived in a real house and had a real job, and lived a real, normal life?

What if none of this had ever happened?

I will always be interested to hear of your life, should you choose to share it with me. We are family now, after all.

The medallion warmed against my skin as if to let me know that Marcus was there, walking in spirit beside me. Closing my hand around the chain, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

“Maybe someday. Not today.” It took me a second to choose the next words carefully. “When we get to where we’re going, I’m gonna take this off, okay? I’ll put it back on when I’m done. I promise. I just need to be alone for a while.”

I always felt a shade of guilt whenever I removed Marcus from my neck, essentially cutting him off from my plane of existence. It was hard to imagine what that was like for him. Then again, we hadn’t become one person after he died. I was still entitled to all the privacy in the world. Maybe it just felt weird to be so totally in control of something.

For once.

Take whatever time you need. I will be here when you are ready.

Marcus could be annoying, but he remained steadfast, and he had a knack for finding the right words to say.

That was all I could ask for, really. And he was right—the dead Centurion was the only family I had.

The medallion sat heavy in my right pocket as I crept down the rows of headstones in Cypress Hills, picking through the darkness for the all-too-familiar marker in the ground. It was flat and tidy, and it bore nothing but their names. Edward and Loretta Stratton, born apart, died together.

“Hey, guys.” I knelt carefully in the grass beside the marker, brushing stray specks of dirt and grass from the simple engraving. It had been all I could afford inside such a famous cemetery, but more than that, I wanted their resting place to match who they were. Humble, sweet, kind, and settled down in a world much, much bigger than them.

The silence in the graveyard had its own texture, its own soft weight. In the days when my loss was still fresh, I’d come to Cypress Hills a lot just to sit in front of the plot and cry, shielded by the somber stillness. It was the one place where I was never bothered. No one gave me a second thought, but at least, in the cemetery, they gave me space.

I breathed in the cool night air and shut my eyes. Memories—some vivid, some vague—slipped through my mind, one after the other. There I was, coloring at the kitchen table with Mom, scribbling a new set of crayons down to nubs. There was Mom, tucking me into bed, leaning over to kiss my forehead the way she did every single night. I smelled her mint and lavender soap.

“I love you, Victoria,” she’d whispered.

And then I saw Dad launching me down the street in front of our house at a run, pushing the bike forward with all his might, yelling, “Pedal, Victoria, pedal! You can do it!”

His voice in my head was stronger than Marcus’s.

A tear sneaked out the corner of my eye and rolled down my cheek, pulling me back to the present. Even with my eyes open, Dad’s voice echoed from the past, full of hope and promise.

“I don’t know, Dad,” I said softly. The grave marker blurred, and a sigh escaped me. “I started all of this for you, for you and Mom. Now it’s so much bigger than all of us. You taught me to be strong and I am, but is that strength enough to stand against the gods?” No answer, of course. So I provided my own. “It’ll have to be.”

I had spent so long thinking that Rocco Durant was my endgame, that everything would sort itself out once he was dead. Then I learned about the gods. Now, I was barreling down a whole different warpath, one that I hadn’t even had the luxury of choosing for myself. But sometimes, the most important paths chose you.

I traced the letters of my parents’ names with my finger. It was difficult not to wonder how they might have felt if they could see me now. The hunt for justice had made me a criminal, and it had stained my hands with blood and ash. It was a far cry from taking up the family business of check cashing or whatever the hell they wanted my life to be.

Stability? None. A roof over my head? Technically. A warm, loving family environment? Well, I had an ancient soldier in a pendant around my neck.

The breeze sifted through my hair, bringing me back to my bike in the street and Dad running behind me. He was still shouting. “Pedal! Pedal! You can do it!” And as I went sailing over the pavement on my own for the first time, he let out a whoop of unfiltered joy. “Yes! Look at you go!”

Instead of crying, I smiled this time. Maybe I could stand in the face of the gods. Luck hadn’t been on my side in five years, but strength and determination were solidly in my corner. If I could take down a mob-boss-turned-vampire, I sure as hell could keep moving forward to see what the gods had in store.

The sword hilt shifted in my bag as I got to my feet. I patted it and blew a kiss to my parents. The flower stand beside their plot stood empty. “I’ll bring some next time,” I said. “I’m a little short on cash right now.”

Hail, Victoria. The medallion settled in its customary position against my sternum. It warmed each time Marcus spoke, sort of like a weird little heartbeat. He didn’t ask about where I’d been or why I required privacy. I didn’t tell him.

“I’ve made a decision,” I declared, leaving the iron fences of Cypress Hills behind me. “Obviously, there are things that need to be done, and I’m the one to do them, for better or worse. Whatever the gods are planning, we’re gonna get to the bottom of it. But I’ll need your help.”

Were you not fully committed before? He was not hurt or accusatory, only curious.

“I mean, I sort of didn’t have a choice, dude. It was either get involved or let you drown in the river. We’ve talked about this.”

True. I have always been an excellent recruiter.

“Very funny. But seriously, what’s our next move?” The grimy, fangless face of the vamp I’d dispatched before meeting Jules flashed in my mind’s eye. “We’ve been chasing these bloodsucking douchebags for weeks, and I feel like we’re just running in place.”

Things have been conspicuously slow, he admitted. I too had hoped another clear avenue would have presented itself by now.

I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s just—if I’m going to save the world, I need to know what kinds of threats I’m facing. Seems only fair.”

I only wish I could direct you exactly, but I am afraid the whims of the gods are impossible to predict. The sole constant is crushing war. Which will mean more or less total annihilation for humans. They are serious when they speak of world domination.

“Basically, you’re saying they just want to screw us over any way they can.” I frowned. “Wow. Love that.”

No. They want to own this planet like they used to. Screwing you over is simply a side effect. He paused. You will need to improve your performance if you want to have any hope of stopping them. There was a close call in the alley earlier. If I did not know better, I might think you were getting sloppy.

“What? Come on. It’s been a couple weeks at most. How can I already be getting sloppy?”

Good question. You are fortunate to have made excellent friends with a Roman centurion, then.

I groaned, suddenly anticipating many more blasphemously early mornings spent swinging at the air with a sword. “Okay, okay. I’ll do better. But we need more than just practice. I can get as kickass as I want, and we’ll still be shit out of luck without any leads. I’m tired of waiting for their next attack. It’s time to try taking the offensive.”

Chapter Four

I dragged myself out of bed before dawn the next morning, maneuvering gingerly around the curled-up cat who lay purring in the center of the blankets. A splash of freezing water from the sink shocked the fog from my brain. One pair of sweatpants and a torn sweatshirt later, I slipped the medallion over my head. “Hey. You ready?”

I do not really sleep anymore, so yes, I am ready. Are you?

“I don’t get any readier than this.”

A pair of filled water drums, the big kind made for office coolers, rested near the foot of my bed. As a pre-training exercise to get me in the right mindset, I had taken to lifting these things in lieu of actual weights. I held each one of them over my head, pausing long enough that my arms began to burn before I slowly eased them down until they were parallel with the floor. The muscles in my back and throughout the rest of my core woke up and shouted at me.

“You know what I really like?” I said to no one in particular. “Being strong enough to do this kind of crap!” I found it both exhilarating and empowering.

Not bad... for an amateur.

“Dude.” I laughed a little breathlessly as I did another rep. The water sloshed, and I slowed my pace, focusing on control. “Let me have this.”

But military pressing water wasn’t the main objective—just a little diversion I used to stoke the fires of confidence at whatever ungodly hour it was. Once the jugs had come back to rest on the floor of the loft, it was time to get down to business.

Bending over, I picked up a training sword that was missing a big chunk of the blunt blade. “Remind me to find some replacements for these. We really did a number on them.”

A worthwhile sacrifice. Your sword work is improving. I would rate it a hair above terrible now.

I grinned. From him, it was a compliment. Then I got to work. The busted training blade still created a satisfying whish through the air when I swung it. I had to hold it tighter than usual so its unbalanced weight wouldn’t send it careening out of my hand. The loft—and my furniture—still bore the scars of my very first vampire encounter. The last thing I needed was to wreck my own place all over again.

Fortunately, my warm-up drills were becoming second nature. The act of swinging had been transformed from an awkward, clumsy movement to something approaching gracefulness. I still didn’t look half as cool or majestic as Marcus cutting down goons five minutes after being pulled from the river, but at least progress was being made.

I never thought I’d be proud of my swordsmanship someday.

Good. Watch your feet. A clever opponent will exploit your balance to his own advantage.

Of course, it helped that I had Marcus talking in my ear. How many people can say they’d been trained by a Roman centurion?

“Can I ask you something?” I stepped forward, twirled, and brought the training sword down in a slashing arc.

Anything. As long as you mind your feet.

“Uh huh. How often did Kronin actually need to use his sword?” He fell silent. “Be honest, Marcus.”

After the war, sightings of the Gladius Solis were rare. The gods’ great violence took on a different, more subtle nature once they were banned to Carcerum. Acts of deceit, subterfuge, espionage. Even in a realm of peace and beauty, their thirst for power could not be satisfied.

“They sound like us. But how many times did you personally see Kronin use this thing?” Jabbing at the air, I envisioned the spot where a vampire’s heart would be.

Once. Marcus paused. Something I wasn’t used to. The day he died.

“Yikes. That’s not reassuring.”

Let it remind you that even the best of us can fall if we are not prepared. Now, picture your foe before you.

“Already on it.” Rocco Durant’s ugly mug was still my default as far as the face of my worst enemy went. Some part of my brain had a hard time processing the fact that he was gone, that I had really killed him. Obviously, there had been other fights since then, during which I’d seen other vamps, but Rocco’s death remained surreal.

Maybe because in my mind, destroying him had always meant freedom. And I wasn’t free. If anything, I was in deeper than ever.

My foot slipped, and the training sword clattered to the floor. “Shit.”

Focus, Victoria. A wandering mind leads to a wandering blade.

“Sorry.” Shaking it off, I lifted the weapon, which felt way lighter than it used to. Yeah, it was missing a piece, but I was also stronger now and faster. Another reason I had to be extra careful training in the loft. That sorry excuse for a punching bag wouldn’t cut it anymore.

Tell me what is on your mind. Perhaps I can ease your burden.

“Not much.” It was a blatant lie, given that he had just witnessed me tripping over nothing. As if to prove my point, I wound up for a charging strike, leapt forward, and promptly broke another splinter off the edge of the wooden trainer.

Not much, Marcus repeated. For a guy who was thousands of years old, he had a surprisingly firm grasp of sarcasm.

“Okay, okay. Let me take five.” I laid down the broken sword and trudged over to my mattress. The cat yawned as I sat down next to her, waking her up. “It’s just, the sword still doesn’t feel quite right. How did he use it to subdue the gods when I still feel like a kid trying on my mom’s shoes when I’m swinging it around, you know? It doesn’t feel like I’m ready to face off against someone else who doesn’t just have a shitty gun.”

Funny how a few fights with Kronin’s sword had changed my opinion of firearms so thoroughly.

Marcus laughed. All warriors feel this way at the beginning. The ones who say they do not are liars. I was like you once.

“How do I get past it?” My fingers scratched behind the cat’s soft ears. “If I go out there feeling like this, I’m gonna get my ass kicked against a real opponent. We both know that.”

But do you have these doubts in the heat of a fight?

I took a minute to think about that one. The conclusion was pleasantly surprising. “Not really. I gotta say, wielding this thing is a real confidence-booster.”

I am sure Kronin would agree with you. He paused. It is also true that you have not yet unlocked the blade’s full potential—at least according to the legends. I figured it would come to you when the time was right, but perhaps you require a nudge in the right direction. Go retrieve it, and we will try something new.

Grabbing the Gladius Solis from its resting place against the wall by the bed, I stood up and walked to the center of the room. My body automatically arranged itself into a fighting stance with the weapon out in front. Insecurities aside, I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel at least a little bit awesome every time. There was just something about that sword.

Dare I say magical?

Throw it.

I hesitated, unsure if Marcus had actually said that. “Excuse me?”

Throw the sword. Not hard. At the bed.

This was definitely unexpected. I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which throwing my only real weapon would end well, but I forced myself to trust Marcus and do what I was told. Conscientiously avoiding the cat, I tossed the sword hilt onto the mattress. Its weight sagged the edges down. The cat meowed accusingly. “Sorry, cutie,” I said. “Marcus made me do it for reasons he hasn’t told me yet.”

Kronin had the ability to call the Gladius Solis when he needed it or when it was out of his reach. This was exceedingly useful to him over the duration of the war, and I suspect it will be helpful to you as well, provided you can learn the technique.

“What’s the technique?” I couldn’t resist a smirk. “Do a headstand in a swamp? Wear a cape and become the god of thunder?”

Truly, your wit grows every day. No. Just hold out your hand and call.

“Like, out loud?” Still smiling, I held my hand palm out. “Gladius Solis?”

Nothing.

Marcus sighed. You must command it, Victoria. You are not asking permission. The sword must know to work in concert with you.

With the smile forcibly wiped off my face, I refocused my mental energy on the hilt. “Gladius Solis.”

This time, the sword twitched where it lay. The bedsheets shifted a little.

Try again.

I cleared my throat and imagined the sword as mine and no one else’s. Kronin, Hero-King of the Gods? Just some dude who got wrecked by his ex-best-friend. It was all about me now. “Gladius Solis!”

The sword lurched off the bed and hit the floor with a loud, heavy thud. I winced. The cat sprang up, her tail puffed all the way out. She hissed.

Hmm. Marcus said. I think this will take some work.

“Yeah, I’ll just plan on holding on to this thing for now.” I rescued the hilt from the floor and leaned it back in its place. “Maybe I’m not cut out for Jedi mind tricks.”

It is not a mind trick. The wielder fosters a connection with the sword which can manifest on demand.

“Well, I think the cat is traumatized.” I reached to pet her, and she ducked away from my hand, eyes wide and staring. “Yep. That’s the face of someone who’s gonna need therapy. Vic the Bold, defender of the world, terrorizer of small furry mammals. It has a certain ring to it.”

I will be sure to alert the bards.

I could almost feel his nonexistent lips curling in a smile.

Dawn broke as my skillet sizzled on the hot plate, full of the last eggs and bacon in my otherwise empty fridge. I’d been trying to do better about not spending money. The small inheritance my parents had left me wouldn’t last forever, and who knew what kind of expenses would come up with me trying to save the damn world?

“What’s next?” I poked at the eggs with a spoon. Things had been relatively quiet up until the night before, and it was starting to make me antsy. The bastards had been running a regular vampire factory in the Meatpacking District, and given the scale of that operation, I was willing to bet it wasn’t the only one they had. They weren’t going to quit just because some girl got under their skin.

Even if that girl was carrying a god-king’s sword.

No, they were up to something for sure. I just didn’t know what, and for once, I couldn’t beat it out of anyone.

You were correct last night. It is past time we change our approach if we want to make a real difference in the wars to come.

“You mean I have to stop punching people and stabbing them with a big-ass blade?” I made a big, dramatic sigh. “Fine. It hasn’t done me much good so far anyway. Though I have to say, I’ve gotten pretty damn good at it.”

Your pride is not necessarily misplaced, but I must inform you that not all minions of the gods will be so easy to vanquish. Lorcan is simply gathering his power, for now. When the time comes, be certain that neither he nor any of his counterparts will show anything close to mercy.

“Oh yeah?” Thinking he was just trying to counter my inclination toward cockiness, I goaded him a little further. “What sort of fun am I signing myself up for here? You know all kinds of crazy legends, don’t you? Which ones are true?”

Marcus hesitated. Most of them. All those you can remember, anyway. The gods look like beasts, and they look like people. They are beautiful as often as they are frightening. And they are all gathering their own armies as we speak. It is true that some will be more formidable than others, but altogether, they are not to be taken lightly. A thousand humans are no match for even the weakest of gods—and when they start fighting each other, they will have no concern for collateral damage.

“Then why are we just sitting here?” I asked impatiently. “You may not have noticed, but there are more than a thousand humans around. We could start... assembling or something. Better than waiting around to get steamrolled by a bunch of supernatural warring dickheads.” I tested the eggs. Still hot.

We are currently doing all we can. For now, we are on damage control only. Hunt down the fires, put them out, wait for new ones to arise. It is too dangerous to attempt a preemptive strike before the gods make themselves known, assuming you even knew where to find one.

“You’re saying no one will believe me.” I knew he was telling the truth, but he was right. I didn’t like it.

Precisely. You refused to believe until you saw it with your own eyes.

“Hey, I was doing my best.”

For now, we must remain vigilant for threats and gather information where we can.

The vamps were ugly, boorish, greedy sons of bitches, but they were not snitches. It would be no skin off my back to keep killing them until something turned up, but Marcus’s point was well taken. More than likely, all we’d get from a bloody rampage was a trail of bodies.

And that was something I couldn’t afford.

The servants of Lorcan aren’t talking, but there are others who might. Perhaps more information will provide a lead.

“Sounds good to me.” Breakfast sat cooling for approximately thirty more seconds before I shoveled it into my mouth straight from the pan. “Okay, let’s get out of here. If we’re looking for dirt, I know exactly where to start.”

Chapter Five

Mac sat with his feet propped up on a stool behind his stand, chewing gum and paging through a paper. His wrinkled face broke into a toothy grin when he saw me come up to the counter.

“Well, if it ain’t Vic! Good to see ya, kiddo. I was beginning to think you moved or something!”

I smiled. “Sorry, Mac. I’ve been laying low for a bit, but I knew you’d do okay without me.” My glance ran over the periodicals lined up neatly in the front rack of the newsstand.

No crimes in the front-page headlines, a rarity in and of itself. And nothing in the tabloids that sounded like it might apply to any real-world situation I knew of. I glanced at an article about aliens, but the monsters on my shit list weren’t invading from space—they were already here.

I just needed to hunt them down.

Mac frowned at me, the lines around his mouth deepening. “Don’t tell me you’re in trouble, Vic. You’re just keeping your head down because you know what’s good for you, right?”

I gave him a cheeky wink. “More or less. You won’t worry if I don’t give you details.”

He shook his head. “Then I won’t ask. The worrying is non-negotiable, though. That’s gonna happen whether you like it or not.” He slapped a paper down in front of me and added a pack of gum. “Here. For you, a quarter special.”

Fifty cents made the trek across the counter. “Keep the change. Thanks, Mac.”

I tucked the newspaper under my arm, pocketed the gum, and turned around, just another satisfied customer.

Good thing, too, because the next face I saw belonged to a certain smooth-talking FBI agent. And he was not alone.

“Damn it,” I whispered.

What is the problem? Marcus, who’d been silent as a lamb at the newsstand, suddenly jumped in on high alert.

Sucking in my breath, I hissed, “Don’t startle me like that! Deacon’s over there. I need to be invisible.”

The woman walking with Deacon St. Clare had a severe, sharply angled face that was only emphasized by the tightness of her pulled-back hair. She was the epitome of no-nonsense, dressed in exactly the same shade of black from head to toe, except for a crisp white blouse under her blazer. Her eyes snapped around like lasers, looking for something.

Prey, most likely.

Deacon ambled along beside her, keeping an eye on the side of the pavement that was closest to him, which just so happened to be the side I was on. It was too late to hide behind the newspaper; he’d notice that immediately. I turned my face away and increased my pace to a powerwalk, heading down toward the nearest alley. Unfortunately, that alley was behind me, and Deacon saw me turn around.

“Hey, Vic.”

I heard him but didn’t stop. Just short of a jog, I slipped between the buildings and aimed for the fence at the end. It was sort of tall but flat on the top. A feasible two-handed vault.

This agent knows nothing of the sword. He cannot connect you to piles of ash on the streets. I fear you will only draw suspicion by fleeing.

“If he doesn’t catch me, it won’t matter, will it?” I hooked my fingers over the top of the fence and began to pull myself up. Halfway over, I heard Deacon’s voice at a distance behind me.

“Don’t worry about it, Steph. I got this.”

“Oh, no you don’t,” I whispered. I hit the ground running on the other side of the fence, cutting through a dirty courtyard behind Mac’s stand. The next low wall had someone’s empty beer bottles lined up like shooting targets on the top, which clattered to the pavement as I went up and over. The smash of breaking glass sent an involuntary shiver over my skin. I resisted the urge to look back to see if Deacon had heard.

That was probably the only reason I saw the car before it hit me. The driver swerved, laying on the horn. I flattened up against the nearest wall and waved a half-hearted apology. If only more people viewed, “sorry, I’m running from the feds,” as a viable excuse for doing stupid shit.

Once the car was gone, I listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, I darted down the street and zipped over yet another barricade, doubling back toward my original position. I’d thought I could maybe fake Deacon out by staying close by. Turned out I hadn’t given him enough credit.

Gravity took over before I could reverse my movement, and I dropped down right in front of him. We stared at each other for a moment.

His radio crackled. “Well, you better hope she can set the record straight, Deacon. I don’t have time to be chasing petty criminals around Brooklyn.”

The voice was so steely, it had to belong to the woman I’d just seen with Deacon. My present situation was not ideal, but I thanked my lucky stars she hadn’t followed me, too. Something told me she would’ve carted me off to jail in a heartbeat if I looked at her the wrong way.

“That’s why you’re going back to the office while I handle things out here. I’ll update you when I get back.”

“Fine. Good luck.”

“Didn’t know you had a partner,” I remarked, leaning up against the fence, trying to look as casual as possible.

Deacon made a face that stopped within an inch of rolling his eyes. “I typically don’t.” He let out his breath. “The belief is that turning the investigation into a ‘team assignment’ will help ensure that progress gets made.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” I examined my nails, as if there was anything to look at. All I wanted was to seem bored instead of nervous.

“Well…” He drawled the word, his gaze a tangible sensation on my face. “Got me a chance to get up close and personal with you again, so I’d call that a win.”

“So that’s your play. Use the same strategy as last time—a dash of flirtation to make the interrogation go down easy.”

“There’s no play—honest. I’m just here to talk.”

“I’ve heard that line before.”

He laughed. “All right, look. I’ll level with you. The bureau is completely stumped. I can’t figure out what the hell happened back at the slaughterhouse a couple weeks ago, and it’s making me lose my beauty sleep.” Running a hand over his finely coiffed hair, he grinned. “Not that you’d be able to tell.”

That got a tiny smirk from me. “What makes you think I can help you with that? Last time we spoke face to face, I was in jail because someone else caused a disturbance at a comics convention. Not exactly the other side of the coin.”

He arched his eyebrows. “Yeah, I looked into that, too. Your friend didn’t just cause a disturbance, he pulled a damn sword. On a celebrity. You’re lucky as hell Cruze started crying. That’s the only reason he kept the whole incident quiet.” I snorted a laugh, and Deacon continued. “Anyway, give me a little credit here, Vic. It took like five minutes to trace that place back to the mob. And another five to figure out that Rocco Durant’s a missing man now. Puzzle pieces have a way of fitting together in the end.”

I shrugged. “Rocco was a real stain on the world. I wasn’t the only one who had beef with him. So I’m gonna need you to give me more than that.”

“Okay.” He began to tick a list off on his fingers. “How about video footage of you recovered from the scene? Audio of your voice? Eyewitness testimonials from at least five women who came forward and told us about being saved from a cage by a woman who matches your description?”

That is compelling, Marcus said.

Again, I barely managed not to jump, but Marcus was right. In the quiet aftermath of the slaughterhouse incident, I’d forgotten about all of Rocco’s security measures. And I should have known that just because one girl chose a lawyer over the cops, that didn’t mean the others would follow suit.

Deacon had led me into a trap. We both knew it. At a loss for non-incriminating words, I opted for stony silence, hoping he would break first. Surprisingly, he did.

“I don’t want to take you in, Vic. Trust me. I’m fully aware that whatever your role was, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. But I think you might be able to help me or, at least, let me know where Rocco Durant is.”

“You must be desperate if it’s come to this. Back alley negotiations with someone you think is a criminal.”

“We are not negotiating.” There was a hint of fire in his eyes now, a smolder that warned me not to poke too hard unless I wanted the flames to turn into a blaze.

I lifted my chin. “Aren’t we?”

I’d never been able to resist the allure of danger.

For the second time, Deacon appeared to give up the chase. He slumped his shoulders, studying the ground. “I guess it doesn’t matter. We’ve hit a wall. Either nobody knows shit, or they’re just not talking to me.” He scowled. “Experience tells me the second option is much more likely.”

“Maybe you need to learn to ask nicely,” I suggested.

“Yeah, yeah.” His brooding eyes roved over our surroundings. “If it were up to me, I’d start bashing heads in tomorrow, but you can’t do that when there’s a badge involved. I’ve got rules to follow.”

The admission was unexpectedly candid—and relatable. It also gave me an idea that I couldn’t believe had eluded me for so long. All of a sudden, I was itching to slip away.

“Sucks to be you!” I made my voice as cheerful as possible. “In my line of work, we don’t have those kinds of restrictions.” While he wasn’t looking at me, I took the opportunity to scan for possible escape routes behind him. From this side of the alley, it was obvious how he’d beat me at my own escape game.

Tables were about to turn, but first, I had to get behind him.

“Your line of work isn’t work,” he said pointedly. “I wish you’d give it up so I didn’t have to come at you like an adversary. We had a good time at that party, didn’t we?”

“That was before I knew about the badge in your pocket.”

“You know, for someone who’s been insisting she’s done nothing wrong, you’re not making a real strong case for innocence, Vic.”

“Well, you’re not making a real strong case for the FBI, Deacon.” Deciding that the best option was just to be bold, I pushed myself up off the fence and strode past him. My shoulder brushed his rock-hard bicep.

“Words hurt.” He reached out but missed my arm.

“Don’t.” I was walking backward now, making him watch me get away. “What do they say in court? Beyond a reasonable doubt? Call me when that’s what you’ve got.”

“Hey.” He moved to come after me, but his radio crackled. That same icy voice cut him off.

“Status report, Deacon. What the hell is taking you so long?”

Deacon’s whole face hardened. He raised the receiver to his lips. “See you in a few, Steph.”

Highly satisfied, I did a showy little pirouette and ran off in a very specific direction.

The next place wasn’t very far away. And it was one I’d seen before.

Are we going where I think we are going?

“Yep.” I muttered, in case Deacon was still within earshot. “Time to try an interrogation of our own.”

Chapter Six

Frank was not where I’d assumed he would be, but for some reason, the guy tending the grimy bar didn’t have any qualms about telling me where he thought Frank might have gone.

“Old rat bastard’s probably at Dickey’s. A few blocks from here. And he still has money on his tab, so feel free to shoot his nuts off when you see him.”

A novel idea, Marcus murmured approvingly.

Not my original plan, but worth considering, depending on Frank’s level of cooperation. I thanked the bartender and made a beeline for Dickey’s. It didn’t take long to see that it was a minor step up from the holes in the wall I was used to. For one thing, the lights in the barroom actually worked. For another, there was no brown haze of smoke oozing out the door—yes, even in our smoke-free city.

Looks like Frank is moving up in the world.

He stood out like a sore thumb, with his extra-wide frame crammed onto a stool at the curve of the L-shaped bar. I would have recognized that slouch and that awful hair from a mile away. He’d been keeping his head down since Rocco’s untimely disappearance, but as soon as I stepped into that place, I knew things hadn’t changed that much for my favorite sleazebag.

Still, he was the one who’d tipped me off about the vampire factory in the first place, so I was inclined to play nice this time.

Or nicer than usual, anyway.

“Gimme a straight bourbon on the rocks.” I signaled the bartender, sliding onto the stool next to Frank. He gave me a bleary glance, then did a double take.

“Aw, hell no. Not you again.”

“What’s the matter, Frank? I thought we were pals.” My fingernails tapped restlessly on the polished surface of the bar. No doubt, he remembered what had happened last time we met. He needed to know it could always go that way again.

“Fuck off, girlie,” he growled. “Everything went to shit, and I got a feeling it’s your fault. Don’t ask me how I know, but you ain’t convincing me otherwise.”

“Oh, please. Tell me more about your stunning intuition.”

He grunted. “All’s I know is, you came in asking where Rocco went and twisting my family jewels into a pretzel.”

Marcus chortled. I am sorry to have missed such a spectacle.

“We talked some, yeah,” I said, remembering it fondly.

“Uh huh.” Frank grasped his glass in one huge paw and took a swig. “And now he’s nowhere to be found. Ain’t gotta tell me that’s no coincidence.”

“I’m impressed by that logic, Frankie. Didn’t know you had it in you.” The barkeep put my drink down in front of me. I picked it up, testing the weight of the glass. It had a nice heavy base, and I held it as I scooted even closer to Frank. “Now, I’m going to ask you for something, and if you don’t give it to me, I’ll make sure this glass ends up where the sun don’t shine. And you’ll be lucky if it’s still in one piece when it gets there.”

Briefly, his rough skin blanched underneath the rose tint of burgeoning intoxication. Then he smiled, which I didn’t like. My instincts for trouble reared their head.

“Try me,” he said. “You think I didn’t learn my lesson? I ain’t the smartest crayon in the box, but I’m no damn fool, neither. Frank don’t go anywhere alone these days.” The smile widened. A gold-capped tooth gleamed on the side of his mouth. “How about I introduce you to some of my friends. I’m sure they’re just dying to meet ya.”

I shoved away from him and sprang to my feet, abruptly aware of the hush that had fallen over the room. Every other set of eyes in that place was locked on me. Anticipation thickened the air.

“Where the hell did you get an army?” I demanded. None of them were vampires—that much was clear right away—and that meant none of them were too much of a threat.

Poor Frank didn’t know that, but I let him have his moment.

“Outcasts.” He spoke with a tinge of pride. “They didn’t turn us into bloodsuckers, so we’re out of the club, I guess. Thing is, we’re still loyal to our own rules. And I’m connected enough to know that we could make some serious coin bringing your head in on a plate. Ain’t that right, boys?”

A ragged cheer went up from the ragtag crew. Most of them were like Frank, middle-aged, kind of tubby, clad in suits that probably fit ten years ago. I noticed, though, that they all had a fierce gleam in their eyes. There was a lot of anger in these downtrodden men, and it was about to come barreling straight at me.

I groaned. “Don’t make me kill your bros, Frank. It’s too early in the day.”

“You? Ha!” He pounded the bar with a fist. “Lady, you might have tied my balls in a damn fisherman’s knot, but if I had to bet on you or half this shitty bar, I’m putting my money on the bar.”

With that, he signaled his pack.

They were slow, and I was ready. Holding the Gladius Solis’s hilt in one hand and brandishing a barstool in the other, I watched them ooze toward me in a sweaty tide. Some of them rolled up their sleeves as they lumbered, as if that would make a difference. When they got close enough, I chucked the stool into their ranks. It hit the first casualty squarely in the center of the forehead.

He went down like a sack of rocks. The guy right behind him lunged, his fist primed to connect with some part of me. Nonplussed, I grabbed the punch out of the air, twisting his thick wrist to the side. He yelped like a wounded dog.

You are being wasteful, Victoria. Every one of these men has a weakness that you are failing to exploit to its fullest potential.

“It’s a bar fight, not a training session.” I struck a guy three times my size in his almost-nonexistent throat. He croaked and clutched at his Adam’s apple. “You can put the critiques away.”

What better time to train than now, when you are not facing off against a god?

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Someone grabbed me from behind with thick, muscled arms. I hooked my hands around his elbows and bent forward hard at the waist, tossing his considerable bulk into another advancing wave. They scattered like howling bowling pins. The scene devolved into fat, flailing dominoes among a drunken herd of wildebeests.

A bottle came sailing out of nowhere and struck me square on the skull, showering me with little bits of glittery shrapnel.

“Son of a bitch!” I shouted, more out of annoyance than anything else. I could feel a thin trickle of blood along my temple, but the pain that should have gone with it was nowhere to be found.

Good, Marcus observed. You have become sufficiently durable. The strength of Carcerum is with you from the nectar.

I was pissed about the bottle, but damn if he wasn’t right. A veritable hailstorm of flying appendages, and all I had to do was fend off the occasional fist or foot that made it close enough to my person. One more unlucky scumbag got heaved back into his comrades, under whom he promptly disappeared.

I wasn’t planning on killing any of these idiots. They didn’t really deserve it, and they weren’t worth the effort. But I wasn’t about to be gentle, either, and if they happened to get hurt in the process of trying to kill me? That was just collateral damage.

I pretended the bladeless hilt in my hand was a pistol and set to whipping, working my arm with the rhythm of a machine. Even the ones who were already down got conked in the side of the head. This little chat was between Frank and me. No witnesses.

Frank, for his part, stayed put on his stool as the drama unfolded around him, staring wide-eyed as his forces were demolished. He was shaking when I finished off his crew and returned to him, the beer glass dripping foam and ale onto the wood. The bartender was nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell?” he sputtered.

I shrugged. “Your help blows chunks, asshole. Maybe there’s a reason you didn’t get to play with the big boys in the first place.”

Frank’s chins quivered. “That was low.”

The bourbon glass was back in my hand. “So, let me repeat myself. If you don’t tell me what I want to know, you’re gonna be shitting bourbon for a week.” The sword hilt twirled lazily in my other hand. He eyed it from the corner of his vision. Beads of sweat stood out on the wide plane of his forehead.

He was still one hundred percent the Frank I knew—a big, lunkhead coward. Part of me loved him for it.

“This is bullshit,” he said. “What the hell do you think I can tell you? Didn’t you hear a thing I said? We’re out. Finished. Cut off. Those dogshit vampires don’t want nothing to do with us.”

Interesting. I was unaware that survivors were permitted to exist outside of Delano or Lorcan’s control. This could mean that there are other loopholes. These potential lapses in security must be duly punished.

I agreed, and I wanted Frank to get to the good stuff already. He was too busy moping into his drink to see me coming. I put the end of the sword hilt into his sternum and shoved. A thick wheeze squeezed itself from his chest, and in the next instant, he was sprawled on the floor.

“Dammit, why do you always gotta do this?” he spat, struggling to maintain his breath. “Do I look young to you? My back can’t take this kind of shit.”

Gravity sank the hilt farther into his generous torso. He squirmed. I could tell he thought something extremely unpleasant was going to befall him at any moment. Little did he know, I couldn’t do that to him. Frank was simply too much fun. And I only hurt people who deserved it.

Time continues to flow, Victoria. Do not spend too much of it toying with hapless underlings.

He was right. I lifted the butt of the now-bladeless sword a little so that Frank had room to get a full breath in. The guy gulped the air like a drowning man.

“Now you’re just being dramatic,” I said.

He narrowed his baggy eyes at me. “You’re a real card, you know that, honey? Look, all right.” Grasping for the nearest stool, he used the leg to haul himself halfway to a sitting position. A few truly disgusting coughs rocked his torso. “Just lemme paddle back across the damn River Styx.”

I poked the hilt into his belly and rolled my eyes. “Some of us don’t have all day, Frank. You gonna talk, or do you want this up your ass? Cause I’m happy to oblige.” The ice jangled against the walls of the glass. An expression of vague sickness crossed Frank’s countenance.

“Jeezum Crow. Well, you’re not going to believe me, but the mob’s dead, sweet cheeks. At least, as far as I’m concerned. Some freaky shit went down a few weeks back, and everybody scattered to the damned winds. Like I said, I didn’t take a deal with the devil, so I’m out of the loop. And you know what? That’s fine by me. Means I don’t need to risk my ass for these dickheads who don’t give a shit about me.”

His flabby face was redder than ever. After he stopped talking, he pounded the left side of his chest, and I wondered if his heart was about to burst. “Tell me what you heard, then. The rumor mill must be alive and well.”

Frank grimaced. “Not the way it was before the vamps crashed the party. Only thing I know for sure is that there’s a big job out west, and that’s because it was set in motion before Rocco’s plans went tits up. They never shared the details with us grunts, so I don’t know them. Okay? That’s it.”

“Where out west?” I prodded him with the sword.

“Hell if I know. Somewhere in Cali is what I heard. Lot of guys been going out that way and never coming back, if you get my drift. Seems like they had the right idea.”

If they are still alive, that is.

My thoughts exactly. “And you’re absolutely sure you don’t know specifics about this big job, Frank? Because I have ways of finding stuff out, and if this all comes back to you in the end, you can bet you’ll be seeing me again.”

He gave me a bitter look. “Were your parents pitbulls, kid? I told you all of it. Maybe this time, you’ll leave me alone for a whole month.”

“If you’re lucky.” But before I left, I helped Frank to his feet, pulling on one corpulent arm until he stood unsteadily with his hands on the counter. “Here. This drink’s on me.” I left the glass in front of him.

He muttered something indistinct as I left. “Did you hear what he said?” I asked Marcus.

I believe it was, ‘Thanks.’

I smiled. “See, he’s learning some manners. I’m already making life better down here.”

Chapter Seven

The next morning, I paced through my training with a million other thoughts zooming around my brain. The dissolution of the mob meant that Frank hadn’t been quite as rich a resource as I’d hoped. There were still vast gaps in my understanding of what was going on behind the scenes, but if this mystery job out west was big enough to move bodies three thousand miles, then it was definitely something to look into.

But where could I dig up more information? I hated the feeling of flying blind, and flying mostly blind wasn’t much better.

“What do you think, Marcus?” I asked. “We’ve seen Deacon, and we just saw Frank. Jules needs to stay all the way in the dark, so that means I’m out of people. You’re up.”

During my service to Kronin, he would frequently send me to deal with rogue Forgotten elements. Oftentimes, I was sent in relatively blind.

“So what did you do?”

It was simple, really. Just search out the bizarre, the strange, the out of place. The Forgotten have a way of disrupting the natural order of things. The gods leave their fingerprints on everything.

“Well the tabloids have turned up squat, and we don’t exactly have an eyes-on view of the world here in my shitty apartment.” I thought for a second, and then the answer hit me like a metric ton of bricks. “Marcus, I know exactly where we need to look. The greatest compendium of the bizarre the world has ever known.”

What is it? An oracle of some kind? An academy of philosophers?

“Even better. It’s called the internet.”

This net, it will help us find what we need?

“Trust me—if you were impressed by the newspaper, the internet is going to blow your medallion-trapped mind. But I don’t exactly have a computer on hand. We’ll have to head down to the library.”

There were truly astonishing libraries in my lifetime, Marcus remarked, almost dreamily. They contained tomes of knowledge in multitudes, stacked higher than a man could climb. Given sufficient time, one could obtain all the secrets of the world and beyond, if he so desired.

“Right, right. We totally still have that.” I had neither the heart nor the patience to attempt to explain the slow, inexorable advance of digitization. He’d see it for himself when we got there.

I sped up my sword strikes, channeling all my replenished energy into the downstrokes. The actual hilt was my weapon this session; the training swords had begun to look more like oversized toothpicks. It was a weird exercise of will to keep my mind from summoning the golden blade. There was little doubt that it could easily start a fire in the loft or cleave through the floor.

But soon, I wasn’t even thinking about the blade anymore. “We’ll head to the library,” I announced. “As soon as I’m done with this.”

How is that possible? Those locations must be ancient in this time.

“No, no. These ones are modern, but the concept is the same. You’ll see.”

Finishing my routine in a hurry, I put the sword aside, grabbed my bar of soap, and took a shower by dumping a bucket of lukewarm water over my head as I stood in the middle of the non-functional tub. The suds threatened to run down into my eyes as I scrubbed my scalp clean and wished for the umpteenth time that the meager plumbing in my loft extended to a proper shower.

Not that I wasn’t grateful for a working toilet—I was, immensely. But a true hot shower was one of the comforts I missed the most. It was moments like that one, me standing behind a wall of cardboard and washing my hair out of a bucket, that I realized with the most clarity how abnormal everything had become.

And maybe, just fleetingly, I let myself get close to wanting normalcy again. The feeling didn’t stay. Nothing could ever be normal with gods and monsters lurking in the shadows, threatening to enslave or kill all of humanity.

Still, a working shower would be nice.

I finished rinsing, pulled some clothes on, and kicked myself into high gear for the day. My hastily combed hair was still damp as I ran down the steps of my building out into the street. When was the last time I’d felt this kind of excitement over paying a visit to a library?

It was almost exhilarating in a super nerdy kind of way. This must have been how Marcus felt all the damn time.

When I was a soldier, there existed a library that was the pinnacle of its kind in Alexandria. His voice took on a wistful timbre. I was there once, in my younger years. Never again did I lay my eyes on such utter grandeur, until I reached Carcerum. The wisdom in that place was incomparable.

“I went to the public library on a field trip in middle school,” I told him. “Spent most of the time Frenching Tommy Minksi behind the stacks. But I do remember them teaching us how to use computers to do research.”

What is ‘Frenching?’ A form of warfare that you did on these ‘computers’?

I barked out a short laugh. “There’s an answer to that question, my friend, but I don’t have time for it.” I shook my head. “I might never have time for that one.” The idea of trying to explain modern romance or the internet to Marcus made my head spin.

He’d see one of the two in action soon enough.

We went to the branch on Fifth Avenue where I thought the immediate resource pool would be largest. A library card was something I hadn’t even thought of in years, and I had no intention of borrowing anything long term. With my recent luck, it would be lost or torn to shreds within a day.

“Ready?” I scaled the steps leading up to the central doors and laid my hand on the handle.

A champion is always ready, Victoria.

I pushed open the doors. The unmistakable scent of print and paper washed over me. I took a deep breath in. It reminded me of the back office in my parents’ shop and so did the ambient sounds of patrons checking out books and returning them, pages shuffling gently in that peculiar library stillness. For a split second, I was a kid again, tucked into the cubbyhole in my dad’s desk, listening to him keep the books.

This is not a library, Marcus said.

“Just you wait.” I went past the circulation desk, up some more stairs, and across the threshold into the first book chamber. “How about now?”

My stars. The wonder ran deep in his words, obviously evoking memories of his own. It is not Alexandria, but the feeling. The feeling is the same. Would that I had lived long enough to experience this place in my own body.

“That’s what you’ve got me for.” What I didn’t tell him was that I wasn’t here for the books. I passed the towering stacks, the long study tables, and the glass-walled cubicles for librarians and research assistants.

Where are you going? Surely, there must be something in this vast chamber that could be of use to us.

“Maybe. But it would take way too long to find it. So, we’re heading toward the future instead.” A sign reading “Digital Media Center” adorned a doorway at the end of the room.

Bingo.

I do not understand. Marcus sounded legitimately disappointed, and I felt a little bad. Maybe once all this was over, I’d come back and get a library card after all, just to make it up to him. For now, he’d have to deal with the fast lane.

I paused in the entrance to the digital media center. “It’s like this.” To my left were the looming rows of books. “All this stuff is the past.” I gestured to the right, at corresponding rows of computers, printers, copiers, and all kinds of other stuff Marcus couldn’t hope to fathom. “This is the future. And if we’re looking for something out of the ordinary, this will be our best bet.”

Illuminate me, he said.

There was one free computer in the very back, which I snagged before anyone else could. It made me feel better to sit with my back to the wall, especially given the sensitive nature of my research. It seemed unlikely that a standard search engine would unearth secrets of the gods, but the internet was full of surprises.

“Watch this,” I said to Marcus.

Following my conversation with Frank, I was fairly certain Lorcan was at work on the west coast. But that didn’t exactly narrow things down. I took a wild stab. My first search, jobs in California, brought up mostly employment sites in an abundance of fields. I went five pages deep into the results before I gave up. Then I tried news in California, in case strange things were plaguing the west coast the same way they’d begun to plague New York.

No luck.

I am unconvinced by this technology, Vic. We had more success with your newspapers.

“Ugh. Just give me a second.” I sat back in the chair, tapping my chin to encourage thought. The third time, I typed, events in California. At first, this one looked like a bust as well, but halfway down the first page, a link caught my eye. “A LIGHT in the Cosmos; Keynote Speaker Silas Monk. Silicon Valley Global Tech Expo, Palo Alto, California?” The words struck a weird chord of familiarity in my memory, so strongly that I actually shut my eyes to try and recall whatever it was. The slack-jawed, gap-toothed mug of that shitty vamp in the alleyway floated to the top of my brain. His voice echoed distantly.

“Pretty soon, we’re gonna have a light of our own.”

“Whoa,” I muttered. Could that possibly be a coincidence? Didn’t seem likely.

None of those terms are familiar to me, said Marcus, yanking me back to the headline on the blog

I ignored him and clicked on the link. It brought me through to a sleek, simplistic blog post discussing the finer points of the Expo, including dates, times, and special guests. “Hey, Marcus, this is next week!” A thought blossomed in my head. “What if the reason those mobsters weren’t coming back is that they’ve been sent to get ready for this thing?”

Why would the mobbing ones be so invested? Delano and Lorcan both have power that far surpasses the capacity of humans. They have no need for your technology.

“Maybe, but I think you’re wrong on this one. Back in your era, human technology might have carried no more damage potential than sticks and stones, but these days, we’ve got enough power in the US alone to blow the world up a hundred times over. You said Lorcan was a master of using everything at his disposal to his advantage. This could be it.”

I scrolled quickly, skimming the text. The guest list had two names on it. The first, Silas Monk, I recognized. Inventor, innovator, and technological guru, he had fast become the darling of the internet age. It stood to reason that he’d be attending any Global Tech Expo.

“It says he’s going to be revealing some new advancement he’s been developing. But there’s nothing about what kind of tech it is.” I hit the back button and scoured the following search results for something more. Just below the Global Tech Expo blog was a post entitled, “The Monsters in Silas Monk’s Closet.”

Modern technology wasn’t exactly in my wheelhouse, but I knew a thing or two about monsters.

“Check this out.” The post’s original location was a blog called Valley of Shadows. All of the site’s content was maintained and curated by someone named SplitScreen. What intrigued me the most was its sheer volume. SplitScreen had gathered pages and pages of lengthy articles on the noted inventor, and not just regular interviews or biographical stuff, either.

I had stumbled on a treasure trove of what looked like conspiracy theories. On closer inspection, however, some of the details didn’t seem so far-fetched. Not in the world I knew.

Who is this SplitScreen? Marcus asked.

“Beats me. But they’re presenting meticulously researched evidence that in addition to coming up with cool apps, Monk works on weapons contracts for the government. Most of this info is redacted, but I don’t know. I can’t say it’s fake.” The documents, both digital and scanned, certainly looked real enough to my untrained eye. If it was a hoax, it was a damn good one. “And holy shit.” I inhaled sharply and received a nasty look from a mean-spirited librarian.

Lowering my voice, I leaned in closer to the screen.

“Look here. This blog says that several employees of Monk Industries have been murdered in the last few months. Their bodies were found exsanguinated. Apparently, local law enforcement has kept the whole thing under wraps.”

I pushed back from the keyboard and rubbed my eyes.

That sounds like Lorcan’s minions at play. We must go quickly before they have more time to spread their sinister network. How long will it take to journey to this California?

“Six hours, give or take.” I navigated to the contact page on SplitScreen’s blog. A lone email address stood out against the white background, betraying no hints as to its owner’s identity. I copied it down. Maybe they knew more about Monk than they had put online.

“Okay, Marcus. I’ve got one question for you.”

Yes?

“You ever seen an airplane before?”

Chapter Eight

The cost of my plane ticket put a serious dent in my credit card balance. I saved the card for special occasions only, on account of hardly ever being able to pay it off. This was as special as things were going to get.

And hell, if the world were coming to an end at the hands of the gods, the last thing I really needed to worry about was paying the card off. That was one silver lining of a possible apocalypse.

I settled into my window seat near the middle of the plane. It was a nonstop flight, and I planned to sleep for most of the six hours and ten minutes. Marcus, however, was too gobsmacked by the whole idea of flight to be chill.

I should have known.

What is this contraption? He asked this while I gazed out of my window across the long wing of the jet. It is like sitting in the galley of a ship. But there is no water. How is it going to get us to California?

“It flies, dude.” I spoke very, very softly so that my seatmate wouldn’t hear me talking to myself. “Like we’re about to go six miles up into the sky and not come down until we’re on the other side of the country. Bet that’s a sentence you never thought you’d hear.”

Marcus didn’t believe me until it happened. Then, I was forced to take off the medallion and put it into the seat back pocket in front of me. I had no idea a spirit could yell so damn loud.

We got off in San Francisco just as the sun was beginning to slide behind a bank of clouds in the western half of the sky. Renting a car to drive the thirty-four miles to Palo Alto had been a consideration, but a cursory search of average hotel rates told me to find a room in the city and brave the commute. I told myself I’d fit in better that way: another young, eager techie driving into the IT Valhalla that was Silicon Valley.

But who was I kidding? Pretty much anyone could tell by glancing in my general direction that I did not belong in the polished, freakishly utopian world of the technological elite. Everywhere I looked, I saw people integrated with machines in one way or another. Glasses with glowing frames that augmented the wearer’s reality. Unmanned, remote-controlled delivery drones laden with small packages, whirring casually through the air. At the first crosswalk, I noticed that not all of the cars at the light had drivers behind their steering wheels.

You know, totally normal shit.

This is inconceivable. I had no idea humans were capable of such rapid progression.

Honestly, neither did I. Maybe it was the five years spent basically living under a rock, but being at the cutting edge like this was sort of stunning. It made me wonder if New York had a similar gleaming allure under all the layers of filth.

Nah, probably not.

I dug my phone out of my bag and thumbed the email app. Right before we left New York behind, I had sent SplitScreen the blogger a little message. Nothing too drastic or unfriendly; just a heads-up that I knew of yet another juicy secret Silas Monk was hiding.

Mostly it was another stab in the dark. Who knew what a face-to-face with a tech blogger would get me? It had taken me over an hour to comb through the blogger’s posts and links on Monk, and I couldn’t imagine that there wasn’t more inside of their head about the tech mogul. Maybe my charm could elicit a bit more useful data. At this point, anything might help.

For six hours, there had been no response, but something popped up as I trotted across the street in the middle of a jostling crowd.

It was an email from SplitScreen.

Tomorrow. 11 AM. Adam’s Rib. Back left corner table. Come alone.

“Yes!” Part of me couldn’t believe they responded. “Did you see that, Marcus? Tomorrow! I can’t wait to find out who this really is.” Or what sort of dirt they could help me dig up. Maybe Monk had a secret identity. Maybe Monk was the secret identity. Maybe there was a whole other dimension to things that I had so far completely missed.

I shouldn’t have been hoping for that last one, but hey, knowledge was power, right? And I really needed to know if Monk was Lorcan’s target, or if he was a key player in the game. The last thing I wanted to do was travel three thousand miles just to spin my wheels in different scenery.

After days of chasing down wild geese, it finally seemed as though we were about to get somewhere for real.

Victoria, I have a concern.

“What’s up?” A big grin spread across my face. Not even Marcus’s cautious attitude could bring me down from this high.

As far as I am aware, you do not actually possess any new information regarding Monk or his ideas. No doubt, this person intends to question you thoroughly about the nature of your intelligence. What do you plan to say?

“I dunno.” I shrugged. “I’ll make something up. If I do it well enough, it’ll get them to say something big.” All I needed was confirmation that Silas Monk was a lead worth pursuing. What did that sound like? I wasn’t sure. But I was confident I’d know it when I heard it.

Marcus was silent, thoughtful. And you believe this to be an effective strategy?

“Why not? I’ve talked my way out from under the mob plenty of times before. It’s gonna be fine, man. I know what I’m doing.”

If you say so, Victoria. Although your past record does not cast a positive outlook on the future.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Bite me, Centurion.”

Marcus could be a Debbie Downer all he wanted—that was his problem, not mine. Now that SplitScreen was in the bag, I had two more things to do.

One: find a room.

And two: figure out how the hell we were going to speak to Silas Monk. Sure, my hopes were high for the meeting tomorrow, but not even I was naïve enough to trust a conspiracy theorist blogger to give up everything they knew. Ultimately, we’d have to get to Monk.

I had a feeling he wasn’t going to be as accessible as Cameron Cruze. And I sure as hell couldn’t barge into the Expo with my sword out.

Greater men than I had already tried that and failed.

The first thing I saw about the west coast, other than its techno-fantasyland image, was that it was expensive as shit to stay anywhere. I would have to break out the credit card again.

The place I chose was a little motel, the kind where the doors faced out toward the parking lot and headlights shined through your windows at night. Far more glamorous digs surrounded the spot, but a nice place would ask questions, and I didn’t want to push my luck. No one would be there to post bail for me in San Francisco.

I reserved three nights to start. Seeing that the check-in slip asked for the make, model, and license plate of my car, I was suddenly glad I hadn’t rented one yet. I still needed to, but now, the motel didn’t have to know about it.

Score one stealth point for Vic.

I felt pretty good on my way to the room, key jingling merrily on its chain. “What do you think, Marcus? What’s Lorcan up to?

It is hard to say. He was powerful enough to deceive even Kronin, which means his moves will be far from predictable. But in New York, he sent his agent Delano to infiltrate positions of influence. It is possible he will do more of the same here.

“Monk is influential all right, but I have a hard time picturing him as a particularly potent vampire. The bigger question is, what would Lorcan want Monk’s influence for?” I switched the television to a local news channel and flopped back against the plumped-up pillows. “Man, this bed feels amazing.”

That is indeed the question.

A news anchor’s smooth voice filtered in one ear and out the other. A car accident on the freeway, an increased risk of brush fires due to recent drought, a measure going forward to mitigate the extent of smog pollution above the city. Zero mentions of exsanguinated corpses leading back to Silas Monk.

That didn’t mean squat. The guy was more than powerful enough to smother undesirable press. No, the bottom of this was way, way down. Near the center of the Earth, maybe.

“Well then, let’s just ask him. He’s in town for the Expo, so this could be our best bet to grab a little chat. I wonder how hard it would be to locate where he’s staying.”

Likely not in an abandoned slaughterhouse.

“And thank goodness for that.”

I punched Monk’s name into the search bar on my phone. On the outside, the venerated tech mogul looked like an average guy surrounded by amazing things.

“He looks like he could be a math teacher,” I remarked. “A math teacher with seven luxury cars.”

Was it as simple as that? Money could go a long way to establishing an army. Maybe Monk was the prime investor bankrolling whatever was in the works behind the gods’ invisible curtain? It certainly seemed possible—the guy looked rich enough to buy whole continents.

Which raised a whole new set of questions. What was he funding and why?

Chapter Nine

Anticipation cut through my efforts to sleep that night, despite the major bed upgrade and the forty-minute hot shower, which was damn near orgasmic. Lying on my side in the dark, I ran through all the possibilities I could think of as to who SplitScreen might be.

A random blogger? A whack job conspiracy theorist? Or maybe an insider at Monk Industries who had too much at stake to use their real name?

I rolled onto my back and slipped the medallion around my neck. “Hey, Marcus?”

Hail, Victoria. What bothers you at this early hour?

“How big do you think this is? Like how deep does the rabbit hole go here?”

You are asking me what level of trouble you might find yourself in, should you see this through to the end?

I smirked. “Yeah, more or less.”

Marcus took his time to reply. Then he said, It is trouble of the highest order. A deep and roiling ocean. There are hidden depths and currents you cannot hope to see until you are already drowning. But I will do my best to guide you and keep you afloat, even through the worst of times. We shall not be defeated.

The smirk on my lips softened into a real smile. I closed my eyes. “You got that right. These techheads won’t know what hit ‘em.”

He was quiet for a while. Then he said, It is possible that this place has become entrenched in the gods’ dealings while we were busy cleaning up after Lorcan in New York. We must proceed with caution until we know who and what we are up against.

“Yeah, of course we’ll tread lightly.” I stifled a yawn. It figured that as soon as he started getting serious, my sleep drive would start to kick in. “When have I ever just rushed into danger without a plan?”

Every single time, Victoria.

“Oh, come on. Not every—”

Yes, every time.

“Well, then it’s a good thing I have an old Centurion to help me out.” I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. “You just said it yourself, man. We’re not going to let this beat us. All we have to do is meet up with this SplitScreen guy and find out what he knows. I’ve done this a million times before.”

Are you comparing this person to one of your mob men back home?

“They’re called mobsters,” I said, grinning into the pillow. “And if SplitScreen is anything like Frank, then this is going to be a piece of cake. Trust me.”

I trust you implicitly. But I do not trust others, and it is the others who hold the power at the moment.

“That’s why we’re here.” I was mumbling now, sliding inevitably down toward sleep. “To get it back.”

The big plate glass window on the front of Adam’s Rib, a little bistro wedged precariously on one of San Francisco’s slanting side streets, both surprised and worried me. I hesitated on the approach, trying to see inside at an angle without looking too conspicuous. Doing this, I understood why my enigmatic contact had chosen it—peering inside without being seen proved to be difficult.

“Guess we’re going in blind,” I said to Marcus.

Do you know any other way?

I laughed. “I guess not.”

A little bell chimed sweetly as I stepped across the threshold and into the presence of an empty reception counter. The sign standing nearby read: PLEASE SEAT YOURSELF. Following SplitScreen’s instructions, I took the table in the back-left corner, just out of the window’s range. It was then that I noticed the place was almost empty.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up, last night’s confidence ebbing away. Was this a set-up?

As if on cue, Marcus murmured, I do not like this.

“That makes two of us. I feel like I’m about to be ambushed.”

“Hi,” a voice said from behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

My hand was on the hilt of the Gladius Solis, a heartbeat away from pulling it, when I saw the waitress looking at me politely.

“Welcome to Adam’s Rib!” she said in a cheery voice, having no idea how close she’d come to getting a face full of god-king sword. I looked up into her sparkling blue eyes with a forced smile. Not the ambush I was expecting. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes.” My throat felt very dry. “Could I get a water, please?”

My brain screamed at me to get the hell out, SplitScreen or no SplitScreen. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being tricked.

Or that I was being watched.

“Of course,” the waitress said. “Here, I’ll leave you a menu to browse while you wait.”

“Thanks.” She walked away, and I turned my attention back to the giant window. Why did it make me so damn nervous? And where was SplitScreen? Only two other people occupied the restaurant besides me, and they were ensconced in their own little corner. A troubling thought occurred to me. “Marcus,” I whispered. “What if this place is a front?”

What do you mean?

“I mean, what if it’s not really a restaurant? I could’ve walked straight into a Trojan Horse just now.”

Traditionally, the Trojan Horse did the walking.

“Thank you for the history lesson, but I’m saying that I think we’re in danger.”

Possibly, but it is too late to retreat now. You must be vigilant. Do not let anyone surprise you.

“Including the waitress?”

Especially the waitress.

Right on cue, she approached with a glass of water. I made a concentrated effort to wipe all hints of suspicion off my face.

“Here you are!” She just could not stop beaming directly into my eyeballs.

“Thanks,” I said, studying her face. I saw nothing sinister behind her expression, but the way she looked at me hinted at something.

“I’ll give you a few minutes while you wait, okay?” With that, she left.

It occurred to me then that she thought I was being stood up. She might not have been wrong.

Where the hell was SplitScreen?

Two more minutes ticked by in slow motion. I checked my phone once for emails, then twice. On the third pass, Marcus gave me an auditory nudge. Victoria. Eyes up.

On the other side of the window, a small figure in a hoodie came up to the door. The bell chimed. Their eyes were obscured by a giant pair of aviators, but the direction of their face made it look like they focused on my table. They made a beeline for me.

I kept my mouth shut until the stranger had slipped into the booth across from me. They’d pulled a hat down over the glasses, and the whole lower half of their face was obscured by a thick black scarf. We stared at each other.

“Tell me what you know,” SplitScreen said.

I blinked.

SplitScreen was a girl.

She was also absolutely stone-faced, and the rainbowed reflective lenses of her aviators acted as an impenetrable defense against me. I’d expected her to unwrap the scarf from her face, but that was apparently not happening anytime soon. Her hands stayed under the table, out of sight. It made me nervous.

Was this chick packing heat?

“Spit it out,” she said. “You said you had something good.”

The touch of impatience jolted me back into real time. To my dismay, making something up was a lot harder with those damn aviators boring into my skull.

I would strongly advise you to not mention the gods at this juncture.

So naturally, my brain took the other path. “Monk is working with vampires.”

That is not exactly what I meant.

“Keep your voice down,” SplitScreen murmured. “Also, vampires? What the hell are you talking about?”

Her head was turned just to the side, presumably so she could monitor the view out the front of the restaurant. Over her other shoulder, the smiling waitress angled back toward the table, but as soon as she saw my new companion, she made a neat U-turn.

I would have spent more time questioning it if I wasn’t so relieved.

“Look, I saw your blog about the bodies,” I said.

“There are a lot of those.”

I pursed my lips. “The ones without blood in them.”

“Uh huh. And your groundbreaking conclusion is vampires? Twilight much? This is a waste of time.” She scooted her chair backward. “Thanks anyway, I guess. And if anyone asks, which they shouldn’t, you never saw me, and you don’t know who I am.”

“No, wait.” Desperation threatened to weave its way into my voice. “That’s not the whole story. It’s way bigger than that. I need your help.”

She paused for a moment, on her feet. I could see her mulling it over, the gears turning behind her full-face getup. “You need someone’s help. But probably not mine.”

Then she pushed the chair in and strode toward the door before I had the chance to say anything else. I stood up, too, but it was too late. SplitScreen was out the door.

That went well.

“Shut up. Don’t you say a damn word.” Watching her bundled form hurry toward the crosswalk, I sighed into my water. “Now what?”

I have received strict instructions not to say a word.

“Ugh. Marcus—”

As I stood there, talking to thin air, a dark van swooped up to the curb, barely stopping as the side door slid open. One second, SplitScreen was there, and the next, she was gone in a cloud of exhaust.

“Holy shit! Did you see that?” It had not been my original intention to follow the blogger—even I had enough common sense to know that was a bad idea—but unless I’d hallucinated the last fifteen seconds, I had just witnessed her kidnapping.

And that changed things somewhat.

“Come on.” I was talking to Marcus, even though he really had no choice in the matter. “We’re going after her. This can’t be a coincidence.”

Go quickly. The nectar in your veins is not enough for you to outrun a steel chariot.

“It’s enough for me to try.” I brushed past the poor waitress on my way out, nearly spinning her around. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I just really have to go.”

She called after me. “Thanks for stopping in!”

I reached the sidewalk just in time to catch the boxy back end of the van whipping left at the end of the block. The light at the intersection turned yellow, then red, and I took the opportunity to dart into the flow of traffic, zig-zagging around cars as they slowed to a stop. A chorus of half-angry, half-bewildered shouts and honks tracked my progress across the street, but as a native New Yorker, the noise barely registered in my consciousness.

I popped up over the opposite curb and dashed headlong after the retreating van. “Hey, can you read that plate for me?” I asked Marcus. “You’re sort of all-knowing now, right?”

He frowned audibly. As I’ve said before, my access to the world is currently limited to what your senses can provide. And your vision is far from perfect. I think we need a pair of correctional lenses.

“Oh, that is bullshit!” But instead of wasting time and breath arguing with him, I pushed my legs harder. Another main street crossed up ahead, and this one was even more clogged with traffic. Not only that, but I spotted a narrow back way, which I knew from experience likely led to shortcuts.

While the van nudged its way into the crawling stream of cars and trucks, I zipped back across the asphalt and down the alley. Narrow urban spaces were quickly becoming my new native habitat. I guessed there were some things every city in the world must have in common.

At least this one didn’t reek of garbage.

Chapter Ten

I scrambled over the dead-end wall and hit the ground running on the other side, keeping the main street city traffic on my left. The area beyond the alleyway turned out to be residential, dotted with fences, lots, and the occasional hedge. When I finally found access to the roadway again, at first, I couldn’t see the van anywhere.

“Damn it to hell! I think—”

Over there.

The roof of the van drifted in the middle lane, twenty feet away. It was trying to carve a path, but midday traffic in San Francisco was just as unforgiving as its East coast counterpart. But, of course, as soon as I laid eyes on my target, the current picked up again. I needed to find a way to game the system and fast.

That was when I noticed the pedestrian bridge crossing over the street. “Aha!”

It was behind me in the wrong direction, but if I played my cards right, I could totally make up the difference. Or I hoped I could. Out of time, I sped toward the stairs, taking them two or three at a time. Although it wasn’t a warm day, the sun beat down on the top of my head, and I felt weirdly exposed. A stiff breeze pulled its fingers through my hair.

I positioned myself over the correct side of the bridge and gazed down at the traffic passing below. The height hadn’t looked like much on the ground, back when this had seemed like a good idea, but I felt the reliable old lurch in my stomach. Was I really about to fling myself off a city bridge just to try and catch up with a getaway van?

Yep.

The railing, made of strong metal piping, held my weight nicely. I perched on the rungs long enough to scout my landing prospects and get a feel for the black van’s most likely route. There was an on-ramp in the near distance. It was probably heading for the freeway, which meant I had to get to it first or else I’d lose my mark for sure.

I stepped up higher on the railing, swaying in the breeze, eyes narrowed against the unrelenting sunshine. Directly below, a flatbed carrying what looked like a dumpster emerged from the shadow below the bridge. It was full of all kinds of weird garbage, but the thing I cared about the most was a slab of old foam resting across the top.

“Look at that,” I said to Marcus. “It’s like the universe wants me to do this kind of stupid shit.”

I would tell you not to, but I know it will do no good, he responded. Instead, I will request that you please attempt to preserve yourself. It would be an apocalyptic disaster if I had to find another hero, particularly in my current form.

“No promises,” I shouted, then lunged.

I pushed off the bridge with my back foot, catapulting into the air and crossing my fingers that I’d calculated correctly. The colored gleam of traffic fell away and then came rushing up to meet me way too fast. It was stupid, but I shut my eyes at the last second. If idiocy was going to wipe me off the planet, I didn’t want to see it coming.

Instead of asphalt, my face struck the rough foam with all the grace of a botched Olympic dive. The edge of my molars dug into the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood, and the shock of impact reverberated through my whole skeleton, but when I rolled over and snapped my eyelids open, the cerulean blue of the sky beamed down at me. Moments later, the familiar scent of trash assaulted my nostrils. “San Francisco smells like ass.”

Surely, you did not think this cushion rested atop a bed of flowers.

“Being a hero is a lot less glamorous than I thought it would be.” Gripping the edge of the dumpster, I pulled myself up on the rim and sat with my legs dangling over the side, peering over the roof of the cab for signs of the van. As expected, it signaled right and slid onto the freeway ramp almost as soon as I’d found it again. This time, luck was on my side. My unwitting chauffeur followed suit.

I let out a sigh of relief. One crazy jump I could manage, but trying to switch rides would’ve been too crazy even for me.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat hunched over to protect myself from the wind. Every now and then, I poked my head up to make sure we were still tailing the van, and as soon as I saw it veering down the exit in front of us, I knew it was almost time to bail.

“Marcus?”

Yes?

“Full disclosure: I don’t really know how to do this part.”

You are about to find out. It is like all great adventures. Did I ever tell you about the time I battled a griffin?

“That sounds awesome, but I should probably focus,” I said.

Making sure my grip was as tight as possible on the side of the container, I leaned down to try and get an idea of how fast we were actually moving. A loose strand of hair whipped into my face, bringing with it a sour stench. Another long shower would be in my future, assuming I didn’t end up as a stain on the pavement in the next few minutes.

Maybe we weren’t rocketing along at highway speeds anymore, but it still felt way too dangerous just to drop off the side. Then the truck took a curve, and my center of gravity swung down, nearly solving the problem for me.

Victoria!

“Oh, shit! Shit!”

The force generated by the turning truck swung me dizzyingly outward before it crushed me up against the metal siding of the dumpster. My arm twisted, and a sharp, hot pain shot down from my shoulder. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I swear time stretched out for an instant or two.

The truck began to slow down, and its body straightened up, leaving me hanging like a damn windsock from the edge. I started to pull myself back up one-handed. Then, I saw a red traffic light coming up and embraced the lightning bolt of luck that had just been bestowed upon me. As the truck rumbled to a halt, I dropped ten feet to solid ground.

“That was way too fucking close,” I muttered, darting off to the curb. Some car behind me emitted a confused little honk, but I didn’t even look. I’d lived in a major metropolitan center long enough to know that eventually they’d see something weirder than a girl jumping out of a dumpster on a flatbed.

Are you all right?

“I’m great. It’s not every day that I get to make a truck full of garbage look that cool.” More importantly, I’d caught a glimpse of the black van on the other side of the intersection, making a right. “I mean, I don’t smell as cool as I look, but don’t worry about it. We need to move.”

If I hadn’t been sure about having heightened abilities before, booking it down that stretch of road made the transformation abundantly clear. Marcus was right—I couldn’t quite keep pace with the van, but it wasn’t shaking me off, either. I might have even gained some ground.

It felt pretty damn amazing. Not quite up to leaping a building in a single bound but amazing nonetheless.

After I saw where the van was headed, I understood that things were about to get much, much worse.

The warehouse lot was poorly maintained, an uneven pit of rocky debris and loose gravel that sprayed from underneath the van’s tires as it pulled into a space. I hung back under cover of the tall, scratchy grass along the side of the street, observing the panel door slide open again. One guy lumbered out with SplitScreen practically tucked under his arm. Her obvious squirming didn’t seem to slow him down one bit.

He joined up with the driver at the back and walked into the building with SplitScreen slung between them. I could see her thrashing, but again, her efforts were spectacularly ineffective.

She kind of reminded me of myself in the early days, except I didn’t have anyone jumping into a heap of garbage to rescue me.

I cased the van with as much as a two-second sideways glimpse would let me while I tiptoed up to the warehouse door. Leaving it uninspected made me itch. That vehicle had to be a goldmine of information, but the blogger’s safety took precedence over all of that.

After all, she was the one who could talk.

The only thing I saw with any clarity was a weird strip of white running down the body of the vehicle. The telltale sign of a careless sideswipe. So, these guys were shitty drivers, too. Maybe SplitScreen was lucky she’d made it this far in one piece.

I doubted she would agree with me on that one.

The door was solid and very locked. Soundproof, too, judging by its apparent weight and thickness. A rock began to form in the pit of my stomach. None of these signs were good. I hadn’t forgotten what I’d found in the last large abandoned structure I broke into.

And I kept thinking about SplitScreen’s story about those exsanguinated bodies.

“How long does it take to set up a vampire factory?” I whispered to Marcus, sidling along the edge of the wall. “Could there be a new one in two or three weeks?”

If the benefactor is powerful enough, supplying the initial blood source would be a trivial matter. So, yes. Far too easily.

“Great.” I felt for the shape of the sword hilt in my bag. “Maybe the cage will be full of grizzly bears this time.”

Vampiric grizzly bears would make things more difficult.

“No shit,” I muttered. The side of my foot struck something hard. I glanced down at a stack of cinder blocks, then up at the window just above them. “Don’t tell me I’m not the first one to bust in here.”

I suspect you will be the first to remain undetected.

The back of my neck prickled. I hoisted myself up onto the blocks and stood on my toes to peer in through the dirty pane. Unlike the New York location, this place was only one big, barren room. Naked lightbulbs hung on wires from the exposed beams in the ceiling. Whenever they were jostled by doors opening or heavy footsteps approaching, all the light jumped up along the walls.

I shivered. “Man, that’s creepy.” A few chairs and a battered table furnished the space. Suspicious stains dotted the floor.

I didn’t see a pit or anything that looked like it might be concealing a pit.

I do not believe this to be a vampire creation facility, Marcus declared.

“Why doesn’t that make me feel any better?”

Because it means we do not know who or what is using this place—and why.

At that moment, SplitScreen and her two escorts came into my field of vision. I shut my mouth, directing all my focus into sight and hearing. The guards shoved their captive into a chair. One started to secure her with some kind of cable. The other ripped the scarf and glasses from her face.

SplitScreen said something clearly nasty, and the goon hesitated, like he was half a step from hitting her. Thinking better of it, he got out a roll of duct tape and taped her mouth shut instead. Her death glare transcended the distance and the grimy glass.

It made me want to be her friend—or, failing that, at least not her enemy.

The windowsill vibrated under my hand, a sensation I recognized from living in a half-condemned loft, indicating that a door had been opened somewhere. Sure enough, both burly guards glanced up and backed away at the same time. I knew that gesture well, too.

The boss had arrived. All these idiots were basically mirror images of Rocco’s cronies, so naturally, I expected their chief to be more or less his clone.

No words in existence could define precisely how wrong I was.

Chapter Eleven

“Who the hell am I looking at?” I jerked backward away from the window and then leaned forward again very slowly until my forehead touched the glass. “That doesn’t look like a nasty-ass vampire.”

On the contrary, the woman in the room was without a doubt the most beautiful I had ever seen. I had thought the guards were shrinking deliberately from her, but as she drew level with their position, I saw that she was just extremely tall. Long red hair, like the deep embers of a bonfire, framed her oval face in flowing rivulets. I swore she had a visible glow.

Not a vampire, no. But still not to be trusted. Marcus was not having any of this lady’s undeniable badassery.

“No kidding.” A little awestruck, I watched her move around the back of SplitScreen’s chair. “I just want to know what her deal is. I’ve never seen anything like her before.” He didn’t answer me right away, and that gnawing curiosity refused to go away, so I prompted him again. “Hey, are you listening?”

Do not be seduced by this woman’s beauty, Victoria. Not all monsters have fangs.

“Noted.” I noticed the woman engaging SplitScreen in conversation. The words were ninety-nine percent inaudible, but I was still able to discern some of the expressions on their faces.

Boss lady started out friendly, handing out smiles that showed all her perfect teeth. But she wouldn’t stop circling the chair like a shark around a sinking ship, and after SplitScreen failed to respond with the same warmth, the boss’s demeanor slipped. She would occasionally turn her face toward the wall or toward one of the guards, and in those instances, I got a snapshot of a completely different person.

“Right,” I said, frowning at the dark mask stretched across her otherwise flawless features. “I really hope she doesn’t try to murder the blog chick. She looks like she can kick my ass.” Not only did Marcus not dispute the statement, he didn’t even make fun of me for making it.

That was when I started to worry.

The Gladius Solis still hung wrapped up in my bag, always ready for duty. “Marcus, if things turn ugly, do you think it’s fine to just, like... whip the sword out in front of SplitScreen?” It was looking like we had no other choice, but everyone else who had seen the legendary weapon up to now had either known about it or ended up dead. “She’s a blogger, Marcus. What if this gets out?”

Perhaps it is time. The entrance of the gods is imminent. The world must know there are instruments against them.

“What happened to not making our move until the gods go public?” I kept my gaze fixed firmly on the scene inside the warehouse. The redhead was glowering now, her face a mask of frustration. We were running out of time.

Under present circumstances, I am afraid discretion cannot be helped. This child must be saved. And I believe that ensuring her salvation may grant us a certain amount of leverage over her sphere of influence, would it not?

Sometimes, I forgot Marcus had a flair for strategy. He’d had two thousand years to sharpen his instincts for war. Increasingly convinced that things were going south on the other side of the window, I resolved to just cross the present bridge and handle the consequences later. That was my usual MO, after all.

“Dude, she’s not a child,” I scoffed. “You’re only saying that because Gargantua in there would make Bigfoot look like a halfling.” The next time I looked at SplitScreen, though, I found myself unable to deny that she did look little. Her voice hadn’t sounded too young, but I could no longer be positive until I saw her face up close. “Dammit, she better not be a kid.”

I told myself it didn’t matter and forced the issue from my mind for the time being. Whatever her age, we had to get her out of there. If she was running some kind of scam on me, I could deal with that later. For now, I needed to keep SplitScreen alive.

On the other side of the gross window, the woman made one final orbit around the chair, her face marred by exceptional discontent. I still had no clue what SplitScreen had to say specifically, but it was not to her captor’s liking. The fire-red mane of hair swished angrily as Gargantua turned to her guards for a moment. Then, shooting the blogger one last, withering glare, she marched from the room.

Seventy feet away from me, the door to the warehouse swung open.

Acting on pure instinct, I dove for cover in the overgrown weeds, flattening myself as much as possible. I couldn’t see her this way, but a velvety female voice drifted into my ear.

“The little one is no longer an issue, my lady.” Feet crunched on the gravel. A purring car pulled up, received its passengers, and pulled away. I leapt toward the window.

The guards remained in the empty room. One of them stood by the table now, casually loading a gun. He glanced over at SplitScreen, who sat with her head down, mouth still taped over.

It didn’t take a keen mind like Marcus’s to figure out what was coming next.

Hopping backward, I hefted a cinder block in both hands and hurled it through the glass. The sound of breaking glass surprised the guards inside, and the one not loading his gun fired at me. His shot went wide, burying itself in the wall.

SplitScreen flinched and hunched down lower in the chair. Strands of dark hair were falling from beneath her hat. I’d hoped she would look bigger, less utterly vulnerable, once I levered myself over the sill and into the same room as her. She did not. In fact, she appeared to be even tinier.

Another shot rang out. I heard the bullet zing past my head and into the floor. To my left, the first guard popped the last round into the chamber. He cocked back the hammer and leveled the barrel at me.

SplitScreen’s shout was muffled through the tape, but it sounded like, “No!” He was standing a little too close to her, and she lashed out with her boots just as he squeezed the trigger. He missed me, and like a bull, I put my head down and charged.

He attempted to get off one more shot, but I was faster. I slammed into him as he frantically hammered his finger on the trigger. In a second, the gun was in my hand. In two seconds, it was connecting rapidly with various parts of his face. In five, I spun around and chucked it viciously at the other guard, whose crooked nose exploded in a gush of blood.

He clapped his hands to his newly messed-up face, making a strained, honking wheeze through his fingers. It was almost too easy after that. He didn’t even have the chance to guard his nuts before I kicked them back into his body. On the floor, the honking turned into more of a pathetic gurgle.

My work done, I turned to SplitScreen. The tape left a pink rectangle below her nose when I pulled it off.

“Son of a bitch, ow,” she said. “But also, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me until this place is in the rearview mirror,” I answered. “And maybe not even then.” Using my pocket knife to cut her bindings, I pointed toward my original point of entry. “That way. I’ll give you a boost.”

She shook the blood back into her hands. “Are those guys gonna be okay?”

“You mean the assholes who kidnapped you?” I gave her a look. “Did you forget what just happened? They were totally going to shoot you.”

She scowled. “Look, I’m always the girl behind the curtain in case you haven’t noticed. I just write about this shit… I didn’t sign up for murder.”

“Let me guess.” I led her pointedly toward the window. “You have people who do that for you.”

“Ha ha.” She jumped up to grab the windowsill and let me push her the rest of the way. When we were both on the other side, she finished her thought. “No. I don’t hurt people. I simply expose them.”

“Right. And how was me telling you Silas Monk runs with vampires not exposing the shit out of him?”

SplitScreen pulled out her cellphone and punched a number into the keypad. “About that. I think I was wrong. If you have a minute, we should go somewhere and talk. For real this time.”

“Okay, but it’s gonna take more than a minute. And I have no idea where the hell we are, so we’re going to need a car.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The blogger glanced at her phone. “I’ve got it covered.” Two minutes later, a sleek silver sedan with tinted windows pulled into the lot. “Get in, and don’t talk to the driver.”

“Uh, fine?” I got in the back seat. An opaque partition separated the front and back. SplitScreen disappeared into the front passenger’s side, leaving me alone in an odd cocoon of silence. We eased back out into traffic, and soon, the freeway streamed past the window.

I felt a little nervous alone in the back of the car, but I had to assume SplitScreen wouldn’t try to kill me after I saved her life. I wrapped the medallion chain nervously around my finger. “Marcus?”

Victoria, you did well against the guards.

“Thanks, but do you think I screwed everything up by getting in her car?”

She seemed content to leave you behind at the restaurant. I doubt she wants to harm you. He paused. Besides, you are twice her size. You could easily overpower her.

“That’s true.” I stared at the partition and pretended I knew where we were going. “I wonder what she’s going to tell me.” An image of red hair flashed through my mind’s eye. It had been a long time since I’d met someone so intriguing. I already knew I didn’t like her, but she was just inherently fascinating.

Like the next piece of a puzzle I was hellbent on solving.

The car dropped us off outside of a sketchy little storefront with painted signs I couldn’t read hanging in the windows. Realizing SplitScreen expected me to accompany her inside, I balked. She looked over her shoulder. “C’mon. I promise it’s clean.”

“Clean of what? And what is this place?”

“Bugs.” She spoke with an air of forced patience, as if we had spontaneously swapped ages. “It’s a net-café. I know the owners. And I don’t want to stand around outside.” With that, she went to the door and propped it open for me.

Do you want to make an ally out of this child or not? Marcus asked.

“You know what I want? I want you to call her a child to her face. I have a feeling that’s something I’d pay actual money to see.”

Just go inside, Victoria.

I smirked, jogging a little to close the gap between us. “That means I win.”

Chapter Twelve

“I want to make something clear.” SplitScreen sat across from me again, only this time, her face was in full view. Her huge brown eyes remained unnervingly steady on my face as she spoke, hardly even blinking. The hair I’d seen tumbling out of her hat turned out to be jet black and straight as a pin. “I’m just as paranoid as you, if not more. So, you can at least trust me as far as confidentiality is concerned. I have a blog, yeah, but I won’t use it to sell you out.” She chewed her lower lip. “I know how shitty that is.”

“Fine.” I decided I could live with that if it facilitated an open exchange of information. Trust never came easily, but I was in a damned tight spot. “Do you care if I ask you some questions, then? I don’t mind working with you as long as it benefits both of us, but I’m not super into the whole cloak and dagger bit. Riding in that car was like solitary confinement.”

She turned a little sheepish. “Sorry. Maybe it’s sort of over the top, but when I started writing the articles about Monk, you know what happened? My inbox filled up with threats, people asking where I lived, people saying they’d find and kill me. So, these days, I feel it’s necessary to take some extra precautions. Getting kidnapped today just proves I was right.”

I shook my head. “Hold up. Death threats? I feel like I’m missing something. Why is this rich nerd such a threat?”

“Have you never seen a Bond movie? Rich nerds are always trying to blow up the moon or some shit.” She opened an ornate little bottle, which she poured into a square cup. The liquid was strong enough that I smelled it from my seat, like flowers soaked in mean booze.

“And he’s more than just that anyway,” she said. “More than what people think. And that’s the problem.” She lifted the cup to her lips and sipped it delicately. “He’s walking down a dangerous path. And rubbing shoulders with some real asshats along the way.”

The scent of her drink both burned and delighted my nose. It sucked all the excitement out of my regular stout. “What sort of dangerous path, and why do you care? The dude’s a freaking billionaire. Something tells me you don’t run in the same circles.”

“Are you kidding?” She huffed. “He revolutionized my industry. Monk has everything to do with me. He is the reason we’re sitting here today, right here, right now.” A beat passed. She let out her breath. “Do you want some sake? You might need it if you want me to tell you everything.”

“That’s what this stuff is?”

“Yeah. I’ll only pour you a little to start. It’s an acquired taste.” She poured what looked like three drops into a cup and pushed it across to me. “So, a few years back, I was a recently graduated computer science major from Stanford. My dream was to be at the absolute forefront of the technological world. It wasn’t enough to be on the cutting edge. I wanted to be the one creating it.” A wry smile curved her mouth. “What better way to realize that dream than to pack it to Palo Alto after I got my degree, right? There were things being developed here that couldn’t even have been imagined anywhere else. A utopian enclave of geniuses.”

The smile turned bitter. “I was naïve. I really thought this place was full of visionaries, innovators, and people who wanted to make the best version of the future come true. But then I got here and took a job at this startup that was pitching a way to redefine communications. The way people thought. The way people saw themselves, saw each other. What an amazing new Earth that would be.”

“I’m guessing it was all bunk.” The tiny sip of sake I’d just taken burned down my throat like sweet fire. I swore I felt it land in my stomach.

“Not all of it.” She stared into her square cup. “But there was a lot—most of it—that they didn’t tell us, such as what they meant by ‘communications.’ The company grew like crazy, and a couple years in, I found out our main source of income was mining and selling customers’ data. I mean millions of people who just became commodities. Everything they were and everything they wished they weren’t, out there for someone to buy. Just so they could market stupid shit even better.”

“Pretty slimy,” I remarked. It was the best response I could muster, my own sense of ethics having been dulled by my thirst for vengeance. “So, you quit?”

“Of course, I quit!” She glared at nothing in particular. “They don’t give a shit about people in Silicon Valley. All they care about is money and ownership.”

“Sounds about right.” I drank the last two drops of sake and switched back to my beer, which tasted like water in comparison. “It’s like that in New York, too.”

“It’s like that everywhere. Which is why I started my blog, to expose that kind of garbage.” Suddenly, she blinked. “Wait, you came here from New York? That’s a long way just to talk.” Her hands steepled beneath her chin. “I spilled my story. Why the hell are you here?”

I leaned back in my chair. “I’ll just throw you in the deep end and see if you can swim. My parents are dead, and while I was chasing the guy who killed them, I got wrapped up in some truly unbelievable shit. The kind of thing you dream about after eating pizza at midnight.”

I expected her to jump on that, but she let a moment of stillness filter through the air. “I’m sorry about your parents.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said. It wasn’t necessarily the correct response, but defusing the awkwardness that came with any explanation of my current state of affairs was second nature to me.

“I want to,” she said. “My parents are really, well, important to me.”

We were quiet then, not looking at each other. “Thanks,” I told her finally. “It was five years ago. I’m working through it. And honestly, it sort of helps that my life’s gone off the rails since then.”

“Then, I’m… glad?” She smirked. “Is this where the vampires come in?”

I raised my eyebrows and grinned. “Yeah... turns out they’re real. And worse. It’s basically my new life’s calling to stop them.”

“So you’re like Buffy the Vampire Slayer?”

I rolled my eyes—I knew that joke would get old fast.

“Yeah, something like that. And I have reason to believe they’re somehow tied to Monk Industries.”

“Why? Because of that story I wrote about the exsanguinations?” She poured more sake for both of us. “I’m not saying I believe you, but it’s no less insane than some of the stuff I know is actually happening in the Valley. It’s like, if Monk can build a weapon that will potentially solve the energy crisis forever, why can’t there be a bunch of blood-crazed weirdos with fangs running around? The threshold for normality gets lower every day.”

“Run that by me again? Silas Monk is doing what?” All of my senses perked up.

“No one knows for sure yet, but I’ve been around a while, and I’ve done my research on him. He’s always talking about trying to change the way we use energy on Earth.” The blogger’s dark eyes lit up with a keen spark of excitement. “And he’s spoken a lot in recent months about geothermal methods specifically. It’s complicated, of course, but the simple explanation is that energy drawn from deep within the planet is a renewable resource and could theoretically replace all of our current finite sources like fossil fuels. Which is basically saying it has the potential to save the planet, and therefore, save humanity.”

“I’m sensing a catch,” I said, signaling for another beer. This was one of those times where I didn’t want to be hammered inside of half an hour, and I didn’t trust the sake not to do that. “And I noticed that you called this thing a weapon, not a tool.”

“Yeah. Monk has always been shady, but recently, he’s changed. His clothes, the way he talks, the people he interacts with. Monk’s been screwing around with weapons contractors on the side. He thinks he’s being discreet, but I mean, the evidence is all over if you know where to look. We’ve even uncovered a possible code name. Light.” She shrugged. “Most likely an acronym for something.”

The entire planet screeched to a halt. Everything dissolved except me, this stranger whose life I’d just saved, and the mental videotape of that vamp in the alley, talking at me through two major holes in his mouth. Pretty soon, we’re gonna have a light of our own. His words ambled through my head, over and over.

My brain told me the connection was a stretch at best, but a tiny little voice in the back of my head, the one I associated with my instincts, refused to let it go. A light of their own. No, not light, but LIGHT. All caps.

How could it be a coincidence?

“Interesting,” I said, so as not to be silent for too long. “Any guesses what it might be?”

Are you thinking what I am thinking, Victoria? Marcus inquired.

I nodded slightly, pretending it was to myself as I considered everything SplitScreen had said. On the inside, my head spun like a carnival ride. This was it—this had to be it. The reason mobsters were being shipped out West, never to return. The reason things were so damned quiet in New York as of late. All the baddies were flocking here to get a load of the brand-new toy they were about to nab from the humans.

“I don’t want to contribute too much to base conjecture,” the blogger said. “It can be risky to put too much of this stuff out there. Besides, Monk is set to present something at the Global Tech Expo next week—something big, by the sounds of it.”

“The weapon.”

“It might not be a weapon,” she said.

“You don’t buy that.”

She leaned forward. “Listen. The death threats I was getting? They started when I was writing about Codename: LIGHT, whatever it is. I’m paranoid, but I’m not an idiot. There’s something going on here, and I need to know what it is.”

Spoken like a smart girl after my own heart. I sat up straight and looked her dead in the eye. “One last thing.”

“Shoot.”

“I need to ask you about what went down in that warehouse. I’m sorry if it’s too soon, but that woman and her lackeys obviously meant business, and I have to know what that business was. What did she say to you?”

The blogger fell silent for a few seconds, studying a point on the wall over my shoulder. When she spoke again, her voice was very quiet. “I’m not afraid of much,” she said. “But she freaked me the hell out.” Her eyes suddenly snapped to my face, full of burning intensity. “If you know her, tell me who she is. Just because I didn’t crack the first time doesn’t mean she won’t come back for me.”

“I have no clue who she is. I was hoping she gave you a hint.”

SplitScreen frowned. “All she wanted to talk about was that damn drill. What I knew. What I’d heard. What I was planning to ‘release,’ as she put it. She wanted to know if I was a threat.”

“Are you?” I asked.

SplitScreen smiled. “If I wasn’t before, I am now.”

Staring into her stony, defiant expression, I saw no hints of deception, and even though I’d already seen her champion level poker face in action, it was a lot easier to believe her when I could actually see her face. “All right. Looks like we’re on the same side of this one. But if we’re going to work together, I need to know your name. SplitScreen was fine until you got a face.”

“Oh!” Her pale cheeks pinked a little. “Namiko.”

“A mononym?” I grinned. “Does that make you an artist?”

She snorted. “You didn’t tell me you were gonna make fun of it.”

“It’s cool,” I said. “I got one, too. It’s Vic.”

I put my hand out. Namiko took it carefully. We shook.

“Here’s to the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” she said.

Chapter Thirteen

Namiko’s phone vibrated as she was using it to call her car. She read the notification without saying a word, but then her hand reached out and gripped my arm. “You’re not going to believe this.”

“What?” I steeled myself for news of the earth splitting open or another golden meteorite crash landing in San Francisco Bay.

“The news just broke. Monk decided to move up his reveal. Guess he’s just too excited to wait until next week.” This last sentence fairly dripped disdain.

“What?” I asked. “When?”

Namiko pursed her lips. “Tonight. Tech Institute of San Francisco. Invitation only.”

“Well, I know what I’m doing tonight.” I ran a hand through my hair and frowned. “I should probably take a shower first, huh?”

My new friend laughed. “Yeah, right, Vic. Do you know how totally exclusive these things are? I have a whole web of connections, and I wouldn’t be able to get in.”

“Good thing I’m not you, then,” I said cheerfully. The silver sedan slipped into the lot.

“Hilarious. Really though, you don’t get it. They won’t even look at you if you’re not on the list.” She held the door open and then got into the back beside me. “Better come up with a plan B.”

“And miss this golden opportunity to see everything up close and personal? No way in hell. There must be some way to hack the system, right?”

“Maybe you should ask a hacker,” she retorted. “Although... hang on.” She entrenched herself in her phone for a minute. Then she held it up so I could see the screen. “Do you think you could pretend to be her?”

“What?” In hindsight, I probably should have seen this coming, but in the moment, I was totally blindsided. “Who’s that?”

I pointed at the picture of the woman with long, dark hair and green eyes. We shared the same complexion, but the similarities didn’t go much further.

“Her name is Monica Tellenburg. She’s a tech journo, which means we have the same job, except hers is above board. She’s one of the top writers for the biggest tech site out there. And that means she is going to be at the event tonight.”

“How do you know that?” The picture of Namiko’s plan was beginning to form in my mind. I had never engaged in that sort of actual espionage before, but if it would get me closer to Monk and his secret weapon, I was already warming to the idea.

“Oh, please. They wouldn’t miss this scoop if their lives depended on it.”

“And how exactly am I going to get in under her name? If she’s a big shot, they’ll recognize her, won’t they?”

“‘Big shot’ is a relative term in our field. She might technically be more successful than me, but she’s not even orbiting these guys’ pay grade. Most of them know her name, and maybe they’ve seen her headshot.” She looked at the picture and then up at me. “I mean, you’re a couple of all-American white girls. How hard could it be? As long as you get there first, you can slip in. I can call someone who’ll make it a little easier. Deal?”

I pressed my lips together. “This is our best bet, huh?”

“Unless you have a better idea, yeah. Also, I’ll give Monica an offer she can’t refuse.”

Raising an eyebrow, I responded. “You deal in threats in the blogosphere?”

Namiko laughed. “Hardly. I have a scoop on a new driverless car tech that I got the first leak on. I’ll offer her that, in exchange for her not showing up at the expo tonight. It’s a pretty huge scoop. She’d be crazy not to take it.” She pressed down a silver button in the backseat with her thumb. “Drop my friend off at The Crown, please.”

For the first time, I examined the interior of the car—all white leather seats and wood accents. “Real wood?”

She tapped the button. “And real silver. What’s the point in being bougie if you’re not going to take it all the way?”

I laughed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but how can you afford it if you’re living on the fringes of society as an outcast blogger?”

Namiko sighed. “It’s a weird dichotomy. My dad does import/export over in Japan. Suffice it to say, he makes bank. I don’t really like to flaunt it on the outside. Most of the things that I have, I earned myself. That distinction is critical to me. I need to feel like I’m playing an active role in my own life.” She thought for a minute. “It’s also important to note: I attended Stanford on a full-ride scholarship. My father did not pay my way. But now... let’s just say that he believes in the good that I do.”

So, she made up for her miniscule stature with a brain five times the size of mine. I tried not to think about the last time I did real math. “That’s cool. I’m glad you’re on my side.”

“You know what?” she said. “I think I’m glad, too.” The silver sedan cruised to a slow stop outside the front of my motel. I moved to get out, and Namiko stopped me. “Oh, I almost forgot. Silas Monk has a new lady in his life. You might want to keep an eye on her.”

I do not recall any mention of a partner in your research, Marcus piped up. Of course, he’d want to talk about the girlfriend.

Still, his sentiments were worth paraphrasing. “I didn’t know Monk had a girlfriend.”

“That’s the thing. He didn’t up until a few weeks ago. Now, he’s got this hot model glued to his side. He hasn’t made a single public appearance alone since he met her.”

“Maybe they’re in love,” I quipped.

“Uh huh. Or maybe one of them is hiding something.” Her face eased into a small smile. “Good luck, Vic. I’ll contact you later with details on your admission. I’m rooting for you.”

Among the surreal landscape that continued to be my life, it felt strange to have sort of made a friend. I took a quick shower, resisting the urge to soak in the actual bathtub, and pulled on the clothes I grabbed from the store beside the hotel. White blouse. Charcoal pants. Black pumps. They would have to do.

As an afterthought, I used the motel’s wall-mounted dryer on my hair, carefully brushing out every errant snarl. If Namiko was right about the status of this event, then I needed to be sure I was as divorced as possible from my true identity.

“What do you think?” I asked Marcus as I stood in front of the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. “Nice enough? Or do I look like a poser?”

You are not Cleopatra, but there is a certain regal bearing to you, unlike normally. Let us hope your manners match your appearance tonight.

I grabbed my bag off the back of the hotel chair. “Did you hear that? That’s the sound of me never asking for your opinion again.” Satisfied that I had everything I needed to fake my way through the night, I sat down on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand to wait for Namiko’s message.

Are you prepared for this, Victoria? Marcus asked. It is something of an unusual undertaking.

“It’ll be... fine.” I hoped that projecting an aura of confidence would make my words true. “I wanna know what you think about that woman. The tall one with the red hair. Other than the fact that I shouldn’t trust her; I got that part.”

It is hard to pinpoint her nature, except to say she is clearly a creature of deceit... and likely also one of significant power. Not every Forgotten appears as the monster they are, you know. And not every battle requires a sword.

“I—” My phone went off with a message from Namiko: Monica took my deal. Get there early. You’re going to get ‘recognized.’ Pick up her press pass. Boom.

It all seemed straightforward enough. I stood up and checked my reflection one last time. “Let’s get this shit show on the road.”

The San Francisco Tech Institute was a marvel of modern engineering set like a diamond in the middle of its meticulously groomed campus, all sparkling glass and sleek metal. A red carpet had been rolled out from the main entrance of the built-in conference hall, all the way down to the curb. I had asked the cab driver to let me out two blocks away, and the walk over gave me a full view of the technological elite stepping out in their finest evening wear.

I glanced down at my outfit. “Definitely a poser.”

Your appearance is satisfactory.

“Aww, that was almost a compliment.”

Regardless of how I looked, it was too late to do anything about it now. Besides, the success of this night hinged heavily on Namiko’s help and, to a somewhat lesser extent, my capacity for stealth and cunning, neither of which I had honed much in recent days, beyond the occasional takedown of inattentive guards and a few surly vampires.

So, I was already off to a promising start.

I picked up my pace as I wove into the edge of the throng gathered alongside the red carpet. Namiko had said I’d get recognized, but she neglected to provide further details. What exactly did she mean? I kept my eyes peeled for a plant—if there was one, they’d have to be somewhere out here on the border of the event itself. Photographers jockeyed for space along the velvet rope perimeter, calling out to the rich and famous in hopes of snapping the perfect shot.

Still constantly on the move, I leaned in to see if I could catch a glimpse of Silas Monk. His bland, face barely stood out in my memory. Would he look different in front of the lens? Would there be some miraculous transformation to reflect his wealth and intellect in the eyes of the public?

Probably not. I fully expected him to step onto the makeshift catwalk looking like the universe’s most illustrious geometry teacher, because in this part of the country, the nerds were the rock stars.

A matte black limousine purred up to the sidewalk, causing the crowd to hush for a second. I got bumped in the shoulder by an eager dude in a bowtie and a jacket that didn’t fit his skinny arms.

“Sorry,” he said, looking at me a little too long. “Hey, do I—”

“Monica? Monica, over here!” Since my name wasn’t Monica, it took me a few to realize that the call was directed at me. “Monica! Come pick up your press pass! You’re gonna be late!”

I shot a look at the guy calling me, intending to confirm that he had identified the wrong person with the right intentions, but he just beckoned insistently and then disappeared into the crowd. Not much of a failsafe, but I guessed I’d never really had one. Namiko had been very clear on the whole “no promises” thing.

“You’re press, right?” asked the guy with the skinny arms. “Lucky.” He did his best to approximate a suave smirk. “Do you think you could sneak me in? I’ll make it worth your while.”

I commanded my facial muscles not to organize themselves in any configuration resembling disgust. “Sorry, pal. I didn’t get a plus-one.” Before he had the chance to reply, I waded off in the direction where the guy had motioned for me to go. There was a table outside the conference center’s ticket office manned by a fearsomely put-together middle-aged woman.

“Media?” she asked. There were only a few media cards left unclaimed, which she had fanned in front of her on the tabletop. I scanned them quickly with my eyes. Thankfully, there was only one Monica.

“Monica Tellenburg.”

She sifted through the IDs, barely double-checking with a quick glance at my face. I put on as much nonchalance as I could muster. “Here you are, dear. Better get in there quick. I think it’s going to be quite full tonight.”

Somewhat startled by the simplicity of the ruse, I thanked her and walked away. In line to enter the special side door, I checked the credentials she’d given me, and I had to do a double take myself. As it turned out, Monica Tellenburg did look like me. No wonder Namiko had singled her out so quickly. A twinge of guilt poked at my stomach.

“Thanks, Monica,” I whispered. “I hope you nail the driverless car story.”

I am sure she will make the most of the information on the steel monsters that lack a charioteer.

“Do me a favor and keep it quiet tonight?” I said. “I’m gonna need to concentrate, and it’s hard to do that with you talking in my head.”

Noted. I will only speak to notify you of your mistakes.

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

The inside of the conference center looked like it was made of jewels. Points of light reflected off the glass and stone façade like stars on the polished floor. Soft piano music piped through hidden speakers as impeccably dressed waiters circulated with the fanciest appetizer trays I’d ever seen. I kept my head on a permanent swivel, scouring the glammed-out room for signs of Monk, who’d escaped my scrutiny by slipping in during my press badge adventure.

It didn’t take me long to locate the press table during my circuit of the room, but I did my best to stay away from that area. Our little trick had fooled that woman at check-in, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t work as well around the actual press, particularly if there was anyone over there who knew Monica Tellenburg in real life. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I’d be able to bluff my way through small talk. I’d never been much for extended improv.

The party itself wasn’t altogether unpleasant. Among the legitimate guests, I felt woefully underdressed, but everyone was either too polite or too intent on getting sloshed on the free high-end booze to notice me slowly circling the room. My first sighting of Monk happened on the third or fourth pass and only because my ears caught a woman’s voice gushing, “Oh, Mr. Monk, you’re just as delightful as I imagined!”

Surreptitiously, I turned to see the back of a trim figure in a dark blue suit, his arm around the waist of an hourglass in red. He was nothing like the nerd-turned businessman that I expected from his photos. And as Namiko had said, his new girlfriend appeared to be physically affixed to his side. A sweep of gold bangles on both wrists matched the rich twist in her hair. Her perfect manicure stood out brightly against the dark shade of Monk’s suit. They were both laughing.

She started to turn her head in my direction.

My whole body pivoted as I looked away toward the empty stage. We had just barely missed making eye contact, but I could feel her gaze linger on me for a second or two, as if she’d known it was me watching her. Part of me wanted to turn back toward her as a challenge, but the risk was too great. I was there for recon only, not to make a scene.

Despite that, just the shadow of her glance chilled me to the bone. I shivered. Why the hell was she looking at me? Why did I feel like she could see through me? There was absolutely something going on with Monk’s new squeeze, and I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know what it was.

Plainly speaking, she freaked me out. The next time I spotted a waiter holding water glasses, I flagged him down, took one, and downed half of it in one gulp.

How are you feeling? Good old Marcus, just checking in. You look shaken.

“I think I might be in over my head,” I whispered, so softly there was almost no sound.

You know what they say, he answered. Sink or swim.

Chapter Fourteen

By the time Monk actually got up to do his thing, I had acclimated somewhat to the atmosphere of the gala. To my immense relief, the real press had dispersed rapidly throughout the crowd, seeking quotes and sound bites from the biggest stars. They paid no attention to me.

When my feet got tired of methodically circling, I found a seat in an inconspicuous corner and took it, content to wait for the main event. Eventually, the lights in the hall flickered a few times and dimmed, and a guy in a silvery white ensemble got up to make introductions.

He spoke for about four minutes, during which, by my estimation, he said absolutely nothing. It was easy to see the version of Silicon Valley that Namiko saw now that I was surrounded by it. Dozens and dozens of ludicrously wealthy mavens only concerned with getting richer.

“This is a man who has built an empire out of nothing but a few simple pages of code, a man who formed diamonds from sand. He stands before you all tonight as the greatest, proudest innovator of his time. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Silas Monk!”

The crowd, which had been mercifully subdued up to this point, erupted into a dignified roar. Monk took the stage like a real celebrity, smiling and waving, posing for a few well-timed photos. Unsurprisingly, he was not alone. The woman in the red dress hung delicately on his arm. She smiled, too, but she didn’t make any attempt to draw undue attention to herself.

She didn’t need to. My false brothers and sisters in the media devoured her. The image of Silas Monk, tech star extraordinaire, paired off with a perfect blonde bombshell was too good to resist. I supposed if I was in their shoes, I’d be excited about it, too, but as an observer, the whole spectacle just sort of rubbed me the wrong way. It felt too much like a put-on.

To Monk’s credit, some of that feeling went away when he began to speak—but only some. The fact that his girlfriend sat perched in a chair just to the side of the podium detracted from the impact of his words. Half the men and a fair number of the women in his audience only had eyes for her.

Monk himself was possessed of a certain kind of awkward charm. His enthusiasm was so potent that it was difficult not to get caught up in it. He paced excitedly around the stage, talking with his hands, even jumping up and down a little bit.

“I can’t tell you how privileged and grateful I feel to be able to share these incredible advancements with you tonight. We are on the cusp of something truly life-changing, not just for the lucky few here in this room, but for every man, woman, and child on Earth. While it is indisputable that we live in a time of frequent uncertainty, I am beyond proud to announce to you tonight that those uncertainties will soon come to an end.

“My developer and I have poured our blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of the future; indeed, into the salvation of mankind. It is my esteemed pleasure to present this gift, so long in the making, tonight.”

The lights went down, and a tense murmur ran through the onlookers. As the lights came up again, a sheer curtain dropped from the back of the stage, and something mounted atop a heavy square pedestal came rolling forward, draped in a shroud. Silas Monk took the woman in red by the hand, and together, they each grasped a corner of the covering. Cameras flashed. He threw the captive crowd a wide grin.

“For too long, humanity has toiled in the darkness. Now,” he announced. “Behold the LIGHT!”

The shroud fluttered down to the stage, revealing an object in a thick glass case. It was smaller than I’d anticipated, and from my vantage point, I couldn’t really tell what it was supposed to be. The guests at the front sent up a dutiful cheer, and there was quite a bit of chatter from the experts in the room.

Monk stood beside his latest gadget beaming, his arm once more locked around the blonde’s waist. Her facial expression hadn’t budged an inch, but her eyes picked over the crowd.

I made sure not to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time. The prospect of making eye contact filled me with dread, which was doubly upsetting because I didn’t know why. Keeping my head down, I joined the waves of curious spectators moving up to get a closer look at the LIGHT.

I never got nearer than three rows back from the stage, but by then, I could ascertain that it was, in fact, some sort of drill, albeit one I’d never seen before. The slot for the bit seemed impossibly thin, and I thought I could see something glowing down in the mechanism of the device.

A slew of diagrams were brought out on boards and easels, ostensibly in order to explain how the thing worked, but they were one hundred percent inscrutable to me. Combined with the constant camera flashes, I was starting to get one killer headache.

Monk waved his hands at the advancing throng, grinning with delight at the palpable excitement in the room. “Ladies and gentlemen, I must implore you to wait a moment,” he said, putting on airs. “You see, we’re not quite done here.” The crowd murmured. Monk stepped back toward the glass case. “In fact, I would consider what you’re about to see the main event of our little soiree. I couldn’t leave tonight without a demonstration, could I?”

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the atrium. The hinges on the back of the case squeaked in the dead silence as Monk reached in and released the securing anchors. The glass lifted away, leaving the device naked on its pedestal. At the same time, a huge, thick sheet of apparent stone or metal came down on a heavy-duty apparatus to be positioned in front of the drill.

Monk put on a pair of tinted goggles. A sheer curtain dropped down in front of the drill’s bit path. “And then,” he intoned, “there was LIGHT.” He flipped a switch on the side of the instrument. A glow began in its bowels. I heard the distinct sound of a mechanism spooling up.

It was hard to describe what happened next. The curtain seemed to flash and ripple, and a plume of sudden smoke erupted around the target slab. When it cleared, a clean hole stood out in the center.

Monk turned to the audience and bowed. A beat later, the applause began. My brain, still wrapping itself around the brief spectacle I’d just witnessed, throbbed with the effort.

“I need some air,” I whispered to Marcus. “Let’s go.”

The conference center had a row of side doors that opened on a garden promenade. I stepped out onto the walk, deeply inhaling the crisp night air. The stars were out in full force, as much as they were ever out in the heart of the city, but the breeze had a bite that was enough to keep most of the attendees inside. Personally, I found both the temperature and the solitude extremely refreshing.

“So, what do you think?” I asked my medallion, making sure to face out toward the lush garden so that no one could see me talking to myself. “Weapon of the gods or just Palo Alto’s latest modern gem?”

Not a weapon yet, but it could be formidable if it got into the wrong hands.

“I think one of those diagrams said there’s a laser in it.” I fished my phone out of my bag. “Gonna have to go back in and snap a few photos. Namiko’ll be all over this.”

I am glad you have found a living ally, however temporary. Your quest is brave, but lonely.

“It’s… it’s not that lonely. Plus, I get to do cool shit like crash this party pretty much all the time now. And Lord knows you’re never going anywhere.”

Deep down, though, I kind of agreed. Having someone to share the experience helped me feel like I was finally getting to move past the darkest phase of my life. Vic Stratton, Emo Vigilante, was emerging from her cocoon to become Vic Stratton, Hunter of Gods.

That had a pretty nice ring to it.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed out there, but I had a miniature heart attack when someone called to me. “Miss?”

My whole body froze, a million different scenarios spinning through my head. A million ways I could have messed up. My first thought was that Monica Tellenburg had turned up and wanted revenge. But the guy trying to get my attention was just a friendly staff member.

“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” he said. “And let you know the reception is starting if you’d like to come in and get a drink.”

Would I ever.

“You’re too kind,” I said, stepping away from the railing. “I guess I did lose track of time. I just came out for some air.” None of that was technically untrue. Being present at this event was, I suspected, likely very similar to being a human inside Carcerum: beautiful people, lavish displays of wealth, and a pervasive sense that you did not belong.

“I understand, miss.” He chuckled. “It’s awfully full in here tonight. Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening.”

He left as abruptly as he had arrived, and I let the crowd carry me back toward the stage. The LIGHT drill itself was gone, but the diagrams remained. Snapping a photo of each, I put away my phone and headed toward the bar.

Now that I’d seen the great invention, it was time to get close to the mastermind.

For a larger than life, celebrity tech guru, Silas Monk sure knew how to blend in. I first tried to locate him by tracking down areas with the loudest noise, but that seemed to just show me who was the drunkest. Then I tried looking for dark blue suits, but there were a thousand of those. Ultimately, it was the red dress that I spotted, practically exploding in a sea of sensible shades. And of course, Monk had his arm wrapped around her.

Hmm. Marcus chose not to elaborate, so I didn’t press him. Instead, I started gently pushing my way toward Monk’s location, tracking him through glimpses of that scarlet fabric. I knew I was getting close when I could hear the blonde’s gold bangles jingling along the length of her arm

All of a sudden, I had broken through some sort of invisible people barrier, and I stood face to face with her, not a single person between us. There was an extreme familiarity about her that I couldn’t pinpoint until I realized she was tall. Too tall, really.

She smiled at me with her perfect teeth. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced, have we?”

“No.” My voice came out as an anxious caricature of itself. “Not yet.”

“My name is Eve.” She appraised me thoroughly. “I love your sweater. Come, sit down and have a drink.

“Oh, I’m all right.” I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. “I was just wondering if I might have a chance to speak with Mr. Monk? I’m a huge fan of his work.”

The woman laughed softly. “Of course you are, darling. Everyone is.” She glanced over one slender shoulder. “I’m afraid Silas is terribly busy at the moment, but I’m sure he won’t be too much longer. You’re welcome to wait here with me if you like. Then you’ll be sure to catch his attention.”

“Right.” The whole interaction made me feel like I wanted to jump out of my skin. My gaze moved restlessly around the room, lighting on everything except her face. But I couldn’t stay away from it forever. Eventually, our eyes happened to lock for the tiniest fraction of a second.

I instantly forgot why I hadn’t liked her before. She was so sweet, so welcoming, so safe. Who was I to deny her generous offer of a drink at the bar? The whole purpose of this little adventure was to gather information, right? And what better way to do it than networking with Silas Monk’s constant companion?

If there was a Nobel Prize for investigation, I deserved it.

“Tell me about yourself,” Eve encouraged. “You’re so young to have been invited to one of Silas’s galas. It’s very impressive.”

Her voice bubbled like newly poured champagne, and I suddenly felt very warm—like someone was wrapping me in a thick blanket. A buzzing sound seemed to fill the room, drowning out any voice but hers.

Without thinking, I answered, “Oh, I wouldn’t say I was invited.”

Victoria, Marcus cautioned.

I scrambled for damage control. “I have a press ID. I’m just… not on the official guest list.”

“Is this your passion then? Tech journalism? If so, it must have been very exciting to watch Silas unveil the machine that’s going to change the world.”

I smiled widely. “This has been the best night of my life. The only thing that could make it better is a real interview with the most famous genius on Earth.”

Eve laughed. It was a sound like falling water. “You are just darling. What’s your name?” She accepted a drink from the bartender and offered it to me. “Please, I insist.”

I hesitated, but it didn’t last long. One drink would barely register. “Thank you. I’m Vic.”

“Vic? That must be short for something. Victoria, perhaps?”

The name I had so deliberately abandoned sounded brand new—at least coming from someone other than Marcus. “Yeah, that’s right.”

“May I call you Victoria instead? It’s such a beautiful name. One I would consider for my own daughter.”

Victoria? Marcus’s voice rattled in my head.

I sent Marcus a barrage of psychic messages to can it and let me handle things. I was doing great on my own, paving a way to my real target. The more Eve warmed up to me, the easier it would be to access Monk, preferably one on one. All I had to do was keep her focused on me until he appeared.

Then, almost out of nowhere, there he was. That dark blue suit obviously cost more money than I had ever earned in my entire life, and it was tailored expertly to fit his form. His unremarkable face notwithstanding, he was like a living catalog picture, at once a pioneer and the industry’s clean-cut golden boy.

It was a powerful image.

Monk sat himself down on Eve’s opposite side, directing a smile and a vaguely friendly nod my way. I wanted to get up and maneuver myself beside him so that I might have the chance to ask a few questions, but the weight of a finely manicured hand fell on my knee. Each tapered nail was deep blood red.

Victoria, I think it is time to leave.

I glanced up into Eve’s beautiful, still-smiling face and decided Marcus was wrong. Just because I hadn’t been able to talk to Silas Monk didn’t mean I had to bail already. This was a slow burn kind of deal. It required patience and finesse. And I was so close.

So, I ignored him. An hour passed, and then another. Marcus periodically tried to get my attention, but I pushed him away and kept talking to Eve. I told her I was from New York. She told me she hadn’t spent a lot of time there—which struck me as odd for such a glamorous woman—and that she’d love to hear more about it.

Every so often, she interrupted my stories to check and see if Monk was available to join in the conversation, but he had always just been snagged by someone else, or he was talking to a reporter, or in the midst of procuring another round for a group of guests.

And before I knew it, the conference center was closing down, and I was in a cab going back to the motel. That was when it hit me that I never spoke to Monk at all.

Not a single word.

Chapter Fifteen

My sleep after the gala was strangely heavy and deep, like I had gone to bed beneath a weighted blanket. The drapes, wine-colored and thick enough to shield me from the prying eyes of truck headlights, blocked out nearly every iota of sunlight that passed through the window on the other side. When I finally forced my eyes open at ten in the morning, the room was as dark as a subterranean cave.

I sort of liked it. Amid the hectic insanity that characterized my version of business as usual, lying around in the dark like a human-shaped rock was a nice change of pace. I indulged myself in twenty minutes of undiluted peace. Then I reached across to the nightstand with the alarm clock on it, grasped Marcus’s medallion, and dragged it over my head.

“G’morning,” I mumbled.

Fine morning, Victoria. How was your rest?

I rubbed a hand over my face. “I dunno, dude. I feel kind of loopy today.”

I do not recall you imbibing too many beverages.

“Hell, no. I only had the one from…” I frowned. “What was her name? The woman in the dress. Monk’s girlfriend.” Troubling blank spots surfaced in my memory when I examined the reception after Monk’s speech. She had told me her name; I knew she did. But it was just out of my reach.

Eve, said Marcus helpfully.

A connection completed in my brain, clearing away a little bit of the fog. “Yes! Eve. She gave me the only drink I had last night.” I studied the shadows lurking on the motel ceiling. “You don’t think she drugged me, do you?” Why was it so hard to remember?

Doubtful. I was vigilant all night. But I would suggest that you exercise caution around her in the future. You were... very open about who you are. That doesn’t seem like a wise approach.

Hauling myself reluctantly into an upright position, I ran my tongue over my teeth. The inside of my mouth tasted like a dry sock. “What the hell? I’m officially too old for parties.”

The blurriness surrounding my conversations with Eve still needled me as I trudged into the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth. I sat at that bar for hours and still managed to miss the star of the evening entirely—because I was talking to his girlfriend?

None of that really made sense to me, but I wasn’t awake enough to piece anything together. I just went and sat on the edge of the bed. Then, a definite recollection sprang into my mind. I extracted my phone from my purse on the chair and checked the camera roll. Sure enough, the pictures I’d taken of Monk’s onstage diagrams were there. I put them in an email to Namiko with the subject line: Look what I got!

She replied in less than a minute: Meet at your motel in 15??

I grinned. She was either ravenously interested, jealous, or both.

Part of me hoped for a little bit of both.

Namiko knocked on my door in fifteen minutes flat, and when I answered, she was back to being a pair of outlandishly huge, reflective sunglasses wedged in a pile of assorted fabric. She looked both ways along the bank of rooms prior to stepping into mine. Only then did she pull down the scarf. “You can never be too careful.”

I nodded and made sure the door locked behind her. We sat in the dark with the bedside lamp on while she pored over my photos.

“I don’t suppose he demonstrated it, did he?” she asked.

“Yeah, he sure did. He demonstrated the hell out of it.” I pulled up the diagrams on my own phone. “Turns out the laser at its core has some kick.”

“Wow. That’s... bold. He just fired it off? Nothing between you and it?” I shook my head, she shook hers. “That must be their solution to the problem of melting drill bits.” She pursed her lips. “But that could also make this thing exceptionally dangerous if the beam is amplified and used for destructive purposes.” She turned to me then, her huge eyes deadly serious. “Vic, I have something to tell you.”

A tiny chill ran through my bones, but I made my outward mannerisms remain calm. “What’s up?”

“Someone came to visit me after I returned from our meeting yesterday. His timing was rather suspect.”

I felt my teeth set themselves on edge. “Who? A man?”

“Yes. A bit strange-looking, but hey, San Francisco is a weird place, right? Originally, I wasn’t going to let him through the gate, but he asked me a question that I thought you should know about.” She paused thoughtfully, the tips of two fingers pressed in the hollow of her chin. “He wanted to know Silas Monk’s address.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s not good. What did this guy look like?”

Namiko scowled. “He gave me the creeps. He was like three times my size, and he was wearing dark glasses, gloves, and a trench coat. Didn’t stay long enough for me to get a read on him. I think he was carrying something, but I can’t be sure.”

“Something like a weapon?” I asked.

“Maybe, yeah. In one of those holsters across his back. I thought I saw a handle when he turned around.”

“Huh. Did you tell him where Monk is?”

“Of course not. Said I didn’t know, which is true. He doesn’t publicize his personal information. And now we know why.”

“We also have to get to him before this guy does. I guess he could just be a weirdo superfan, but let’s be real about how likely that is. A stalker, maybe? He could be trying to case the place.”

It is also possible that this mystery man is one of the Forgotten.

Damn. This mess was getting worse by the second. “We need to figure out exactly where Monk is staying so we can protect him.”

“Doesn’t he have his own people for that?”

“It really depends on what he’s dealing with.” I knew for a fact that Silas Monk would have been utterly destroyed by any of the vampires I had to kill. And I had a strong suspicion that this new interloper was not on his appointment schedule.

“I’ll take your word for that.” Namiko brought a photo up on her phone. “Here’s a shot of him outside a hotel in Palo Alto. I’m pretty sure it’s the Onyx. That’s probably where he’s staying.”

I rolled my eyes. “I can’t even afford to dream about that place.” But even as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d have to get in somehow.

When I looked the place up online, the idea of infiltrating the hotel seemed impossible. Not only did it have tight security for super wealthy, famous people, but it was also tall as hell.

“He couldn’t pick a place that’s like three stories high with parking lot access?” I grumbled. “It’s gotta be the Everest of luxury hotels, and I’m willing to bet money he’s on the top floor.”

I still wanted to speak with Monk, but the odds were looking worse by the second. Namiko stood up.

“Take this.” She dropped a device that looked like a tiny bean in my palm. “It’s an earpiece. So I can help you. When I get home, I’m going to see if I can send you some stuff that’ll make your job a lot easier. Watch your phone in like, half an hour.” Without waiting for an answer, she pulled up her scarf and slipped out the door. I peeked through the curtain to see the silver sedan make its escape.

“Do you trust her?” I asked Marcus nonchalantly. A layer of drowsiness threatened to descend on me again. I leaned back on the hotel pillows.

It appears that we have no choice. While my faith in you is unerring, the structure where Monk presently resides would be a fool’s errand for one person to handle alone. If Namiko offers her aid, we must accept or run a much greater risk of failure that we cannot afford. Do you disagree?

I shook my head. “Nope. Just making sure it wasn’t just me.”

Right before noon, my phone shook me out of a daze with a message from Namiko: Put in your earpiece.

I did as instructed. Within seconds, I could hear yet another voice in my ear. My head was getting awfully crowded.

“Vic? Testing.”

“You’re good,” I said. “Loud and clear.”

“I found some maps that might be helpful to you. They’re basically just floor plans, but at least this way you’ll sort of know where you’re going. Obviously, when we’re done with this you should delete them, just in case.”

“Whatever you say, Namiko.”

“Great. It’s not much, and you’re going to have to improvise, but you’re good at that, right? If you leave now, you’ll get there in about thirty-five minutes, give or take a few. Oh, and you were right—Monk is king of the hill. Right at the top. And I’m positive the place is full of security, if only because he’s there.”

I allowed myself no more than a brief moment of self-pity, and then it was time to get ready for the show. Ten minutes later, my Uber driver pulled out onto the road heading south toward Palo Alto.

As I rode, I tried to think of ways to tell a very rich man that he was in mortal danger.

“Oh, dammit,” Namiko mumbled through the earpiece. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

“Good news first,” I replied.

“A friend owed me a favor. He has the cameras from the Onyx streaming to my machine as we speak. I’ve got a god’s eye view of the place.”

“Funny.” I paused on my approach toward the ground floor of the Onyx. “What’s the bad news?”

“Remember how I said the place is probably full of security? That wasn’t an exaggeration. Be careful. I don’t know what they’re packing.”

“I’ll do my best,” I said. “Can I bypass the ones on the bottom?”

“Yeah. Go straight through the lobby to the elevators. There’s one that goes directly to the top, but it’s not available to the general public. You’ll need to get off on the level below and find a way up.”

“And I’m guessing there will be guards there, too.”

“You got it,” she confirmed.

This was going to be a regular freakin’ riot.

Chapter Sixteen

The Onyx had thirty floors, the topmost of which was reserved for the likes of Silas Monk. I sauntered casually across the lobby and front desk security and stepped into an open elevator as if I were a rich person who belonged in here.

Thumbing the button for floor twenty-nine, I clasped my hands in front of me and stood quietly for the smooth and silent ride up, jazz piping through the elevator speakers. The doors opened on a lushly carpeted hallway where sound seemed to stop in its tracks before ever reaching the other end.

I saw the first guard’s shadow on the silk floral wallpaper immediately upon exiting the elevator car.

“Only one,” Namiko said. “Move fast. The others will be coming back around.”

I crouched slightly, pinned my body to the wall, and crept up behind the guard as he stood innocently keeping watch. I struck silently, and my new strength allowed me to let his unconscious bulk down gently to the floor.

“Okay, get ready to do that four more times,” Namiko said like it was no big deal.

I stepped over him, shaking my hands out. “Are they all going to be coming down this way?”

“Yep. Just make sure you get them all so you have the maximum amount of time before someone figures out that something’s wrong.”

“Roger.”

So, I waited in that corridor, put the first two guys in chokeholds, and hit the last two neatly over the head. I left them sleeping peacefully where they fell.

“What am I looking for, now? Stairs?”

“I think so. There should be a stairwell right around—”

“Hey! What are you doing up here?”

I looked toward the owner of the voice—a surprise sixth guard—and then booked it in the opposite direction, hoping he wouldn’t immediately radio for help. He didn’t, which was gratifying. Even more gratifying was spotting an open room door with a housecleaning cart in front of it. Spinning the cart horizontally to block his path, I grabbed the heavy mop from its holder on the side and used it to whack my pursuer from a distance. He crashed to the muffling carpet, out cold.

I glanced around. “The good news is that I don’t see the cleaning lady anywhere, so I don’t have to attack an innocent woman. The bad news: all the doors I’m seeing are marked with alarm signs. There might be one or two that don’t set it off, but I’m not willing to risk it.”

“That is a problem,” Namiko said. She lapsed into focused silence.

“Wait.” I peered into an open room at the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. “I have an idea. A really, really stupid idea. Stand by.”

The glass opened without a sound to admit me onto the balcony. This high up, the wind tossed my hair, threatening to pull out my loose ponytail. I looked directly upward. The bottom of the top floor’s extended balcony hung above me.

Bingo.

I grabbed a chair from the room and dragged it outside. I tested my weight with one foot, and it seemed sturdy enough. I climbed onto the seat cushion and swung my arms a little, preparing for the highest vertical leap I could muster.

“Oh man, this is such a bad idea. In the running for the worst I’ve ever had.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little at myself, even as I swayed in the open air. “Necessity is the mother of insanity.”

I believe that phrase has been altered, Marcus remarked. But fear not, Victoria. This is hardly the most foolhardy thing I have ever seen. There was one time in Rome when—

“Dude, don’t get me wrong. I definitely love every single story you’ve ever told me, but I need to concentrate right now. If I miss this, I’m in some serious shit.”

“What was that, Vic?” Namiko asked in my ear.

I almost laughed out loud. I forgot she could hear every word, even the ones that I said to the centuries-old centurion hanging around my neck. “Nothing. Just… um… talking to myself.” She didn’t respond.

The wind buffeted me mercilessly. Before Marcus or Namiko could start talking again, I jumped.

The tips of my fingers just brushed the iron underbars of the balcony foundation, but I couldn’t quite secure my grip. When I came back down, my balance faltered on the chair’s plush seat, and I almost busted my ass on the floor. “Oh, shit!”

“What’s going on?” Namiko asked, alarmed.

I sucked in my breath. “Don’t worry about it. I’m fine.” The heartbeat jackhammering crazily in my chest suggested otherwise, but she couldn’t hear it, and I wasn’t telling her.

The second time, I bent my knees slightly and jumped when the wind wasn’t blowing as strong. My left hand ended up flailing in empty air, but the right caught hold of a metal rod. Half gasping with breathless, pounding adrenaline, I began to monkey-bar my way across the balcony supports until I reached the outer side where the railing was. My hand barely fit over the lip of the balcony floor, but barely was enough.

“Where are you?” Namiko asked. “It’s so loud.”

I didn’t answer, only because I was too busy making sure I didn’t fall to my death. Once I had a firm hold on the iron struts, I hoisted myself up and over the top. Then I lay there for a minute, still gasping and trying not to think about what I’d just done. If anything had gone wrong, I would have died outright. Not my wisest, most well thought out plan, but effective and fun, in a terrifying way.

“Okay,” I told Namiko finally. “I’m on the balcony. The top balcony.”

“You’re what?! How did you get there?”

“Up and over. Took the scenic route.” I was on my feet again, stretching the nervous tremors from my legs.

“That seems rather foolish,” she said calmly. Now that her initial surprise had worn off, she sounded like a long-suffering parent admonishing an idiot child.

I chose to ignore it. “It wasn’t so bad. Now what?”

“The top balcony wraps all the way around to the front entrance of the thirtieth-floor suite. Just follow it until you see another door.”

The wind still tugged playfully at my clothes, though its strength was far less threatening with my feet on solid ground. My hair was a wild mess of tangles, the tie forever lost to the void. On the opposite side of the building, the gale died down, and I was able to smooth my mane into something halfway presentable as I walked up to the entrance leading into the suite.

“I’m here,” I told Namiko. “Should I just…”

Silence. I felt around inside my ear for that little bean, but it was gone. Another casualty of the cruel winds.

Alone now, I reached out and tried the door. It swung open into a room with another set of doors. Through the glass, I could see a lamp on in a back room. My brain spun into overdrive; I still hadn’t figured out what I wanted to say.

After a moment’s uncertain pause, I just whispered, “Whatever,” under my breath, raised my hand, and knocked.

Footsteps came toward the door. The lock disengaged. The knob turned.

Eve stood on the threshold, smiling. She wasn’t wearing the blood red ensemble from the gala, and her hair was down around her shoulders. I might have believed she was normal, except for those piercing eyes.

“Hello, Victoria,” she sang, seemingly unsurprised to see me. “Please come in.” She let the door shut behind me. “You look like you’ve been stuck out in the weather, poor thing. What can I do for you?”

I took a deep breath. “Well, I realized earlier that I never got a chance to talk directly with Mr. Monk, so I thought it couldn’t hurt to drop by and try again.”

“Oh, of course, sweetheart. I’m sorry. That’s probably all my fault. You’re just so interesting, I had to keep you all to myself.”

Just then, another door swung open in the back of the suite. “Eve?” Silas Monk emerged from what I assumed to be a bedroom. We looked at each other with equal bewilderment.

“Eve!” Monk said. “You can’t just let strangers into the room like this! This is my home right now. My private sanctuary!” He turned to me. “How did you get up here, anyway? I thought I had the elevator sealed to the public.”

I shrugged. “Sorry, sir.” It was all I could think to say. The awkward silence that descended was thick enough to be palpable.

“Be calm, Silas.” Eve focused her radiant blue eyes on him. “Everything is all right. There’s nothing to get upset about. She just wants to talk to you.”

As Eve spoke, the air in the room grew softer—I could feel it caressing my skin. Monk settled more or less immediately. He adjusted his shirt’s fit, brushing off the collar and cuffs. “I hope you’ll forgive me,” he said, sounding much more like his normal, easily confident self. “I’ve been under a lot of stress these past few days.” He examined me closer. “You were at last night’s reveal, weren’t you?”

I nodded. “It was an incredible honor to witness the unveiling of your latest masterpiece.” Laying it on a little thick, but I knew Monk’s type. Guys like him loved to have their egos stroked; craved it, even. He made a big show of waving away the compliment, even as his chest puffed out.

“Please, you’re too kind.” He made a grand, sweeping gesture toward the sitting room. “Why don’t we use the furniture like civilized people?” The coffee table had a full, untouched service on it. “Feel free to help yourself to anything you like.” Monk sat back on the couch cushions. “Really, it’s no trouble. I don’t think I caught your name, Miss…?”

“Vic. Just Vic is fine.”

Monk stroked his chin. “I like that. It suits you.” He scooted over to make room for Eve, who lowered herself elegantly down beside him. “And I have to say, I admire the ingenuity it must have taken to find a way up here.”

Eve chortled. “That’s why I let her in, love. I think you two would get along just perfectly.”

“You’re never wrong, my darling.” Monk leaned over and planted a kiss on the woman’s cheek. “So, what is it that you’re so keen to discuss with me?”

I had expected my nerves to get worse as the conversation went on, but I noticed, looking between the two of them, that I was perfectly at ease. Eve’s gentle smile and Monk’s laid-back demeanor dissolved all the pressure I had put on myself on the way up. “I’m interested in the LIGHT drill as a multifunctional device.” At least half that sentence had been completely bullshitted up, but Monk didn’t seem to mind.

“You mean as a weapon,” he said, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “I’ve never denied the possibility of LIGHT arms being developed, either right now or sometime in the future. And of course, it’s important to emphasize that I’m not what you’d call a warmonger. Not at all. But we need to be able to keep up with the advance of technology around the globe. We’re not the only country constantly seeking to innovate and improve. If we want to maintain our position as one of the tech industry’s global leaders, it’s important for us to explore all avenues, including those that may be viewed as controversial.”

Spoken like a true salesman. I smiled and got ready to burst his bubble.

“What’s the likelihood that the LIGHT drill might end up in the wrong hands?”

Be careful, Victoria.

Marcus’s warning barely registered over the gentle buzzing filling the room. Or was it filling my mind? I couldn’t be sure.

Briefly, Monk was shocked. He laughed as he recovered himself and said, “Right now, the drill is only equipped to be used as a gamechanger in the energy industry. It is also the only prototype to have successfully completed production, so we’re not treating weaponization as a primary concern. We don’t know of anyone who would want to use the drill for anything other than its specific, marketed purpose.”

I tilted my head to the side. “You don’t? Because I do.”

Victoria. Be mindful of your words.

Marcus’s voice was stronger this time, urgent. But I just didn’t care. Silas and Eve were there to listen to me, to understand my concerns. For some reason, I knew that with certainty. And as a creator of potential weapons himself, Silas deserved to know what darkness was lurking in the world.

“Please do enlighten me,” Monk said. His casual posture disappeared; he sat forward and ready, a spark of hungry intellect alight in his eye. Eve still reclined against the sofa, fondly stroking his shoulder.

“Vampires,” I said.

No!

“What was that?” he asked.

“You heard me,” I said.

He nodded, and the gears in Monk’s formidable brain began to turn. “But what do you mean by that?”

“Real ones. Created from the blood of a god. I’ve seen them being manufactured. Mass produced.” The words came out easily.

Victoria, stop! You don’t know what you’re saying!

Marcus’s voice was like a mosquito whining constantly in my ear. I pulled off the medallion and stuck it in my pocket. This was just one more thing he would never understand. If Monk knew everything, he could help us, and we would win the inevitable war.

Monk’s eyes narrowed. “Gods, you say? And you mean the kind I think you mean? Omniscient, all powerful, each governing separate domains? I’m going to need proof of that.”

“I have some.”

I reached into my bag and grasped the sword hilt. Eve’s eyes went wide enough that I knew she understood exactly what it was. Monk, on the other hand, was less impressed.

“How do I know that’s not just a weird, useless artifact?”

“Because.” I stood up and stepped away from the very flammable couch. “This is what it does.”

The astonishment etched on Silas Monk’s face upon beholding the Gladius Solis for the first time legitimately warmed my soul. I was proud to have shared something new with a man whose hands created so much. For a minute after I extinguished the blade, he stared speechless at the hilt.

“How did you…” He shook his head. “I feel like my entire world has just been shifted.”

“Darling.” Eve reached out a slender hand and took mine. “That sword is a sacred object with a myriad of undiscovered properties. Who knows what miracles are hiding within its golden blade? You must entrust it to us so that Silas may study it further and use its strength to better humankind.”

The medallion burned in my pocket. I looked between Eve and Kronin’s sword, and then between Silas Monk and the sword. Eve was right; if Monk applied his brand of genius to the power of the Gladius Solis, he could do incredible, revolutionary things. He was a far greater hero than I was, that was suddenly clear to me.

This was a gift I owed to the world and one I was willing to give to them.

“Take good care of it,” I said to Eve. “Please. It’s way more important than I have time to explain.” There was no denying her words.

I reached out my hand to give her the sword.

But before she could reach it, the room descended into chaos.

The window overlooking the city skyline shattered into thousands of tiny shards. A cool breeze filled the room, and I felt very strange. As if I was waking up from a dream. Eve shrieked and recoiled; the hilt dropped to the floor. A long, sharp object whistled through the gaping maw in the glass. I ducked to the side. “What the hell!”

Another shriek cracked the air. I noticed drops of crimson pooling on the floor, leading up to Eve hunched over with her hands on the knife in her side. I grabbed for the hilt and tried to scramble to her, but a massive weight came down in front of me, obscuring her from my view.

“Hey!” I cried. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Stay out of this.” The voice resonated deeper than any other I’d ever heard, underscored by a touch of gravel. A pixie dusting of glass was still raining down on everything, lending a glittering haze to the unknown figure. He hefted a vicious-looking hammer above Eve’s prone body. The voice sounded again.

“This is my fight.”

Chapter Seventeen

His fight?

“Like hell it is!” I growled.

I stumbled to my feet, still trying to figure out what the shit just went down. The newcomer stood with his heavy-ass hammer poised above Eve, looking down at her. “Reveal yourself, creature,” he said. “Your kind is nothing more than lies.”

“Marcus, who is this, and what the hell is he talking about?” Remembering myself, I put the medallion around my neck.

Vic, you are out of your depth here. You need to leave, now.

“What? He’s gonna kill Eve!”

I very much doubt that he will. And your mind is clouded.

Unconvinced, I started toward her body, which was now stained with blood. Two steps in, she twitched and rolled over onto her back, moaning. The knife dislodged from her side and clattered onto the tiled floor. Eve took a slow, deep breath.

The blood stopped.

She rolled again, gathering her limbs beneath her and using them to push up onto her hands and knees. Her golden hair fell forward as she arched her neck down.

A sharp hissing began to come from somewhere, but it wasn’t until her head snapped back up that I realized the sound was coming from between her bared teeth. The shoulders of her blouse burst outward in a rain of shredded fabric, destroyed by the emergence of two giant wings.

“Okay, I need to ask a question,” I said. “What in seven hells is that?”

Eve was standing now, the tips of her wings almost dragging on the floor. The corpses of her blouse and skirt clung to her changed body, and when she looked at me now, it was with wide, burning, hate-filled eyes.

But I wasn’t the one with whom she had a bone to pick.

“You!” Eve brandished a skinny, almost skeletal finger, tipped with a long, sharp nail, in the direction of the hammer guy. “Intruder! The weapons are for our hands only, not for your kind of vermin!”

“My kind of vermin? Lady, have you seen yourself lately?” He lifted his hands and began to whip the hammer in lazy circles around his head. “You’re in no position to be throwing that term around.”

She flew at him, kicking up a storm of debris with her massive wings. “Get out! Go back to Hell and stay there!”

The man laughed. “I get that a lot. Never seems to take, though.”

“I don’t know whose side I’m supposed to be on,” I murmured.

It is safe to assume that neither is ideal at the moment. Choose the side of the living.

The hammer picked up speed, blurring into one oblong shape in the air. Its wielder maintained the same stoic expression.

“Come any closer, and I’ll roast you alive, you damn vulture.” He showed no signs of tiring or wanting to slow down, and the effective barrier created by his weapon only served to enrage Eve more. I could just glimpse Silas Monk crouching behind the relative safety of a solid wooden side table at her back. His face seemed to have set permanently in a mask of confused shock and horror.

I was past the horror part, but confusion and shock still got me, especially since Marcus was in the same boat. We retreated farther into the sitting room where there were no windows to shatter on us.

“You really don’t know what’s going on?” I eyed the standoff between Hammer Guy and Eve, my rat’s nest of hair getting extra tangled by the drafts from her wings. “Like, are they gonna each land one major strike that cancel each other out and explode? I would rather not be here when that happens.”

I am unsure of who he is, but it is clear now what we have been dealing with. Eve is a harpy—and the red-headed female from the warehouse was probably one as well.

I made a face. “Well harpies look freaking gross.” It was like all her skin had simultaneously stretched and aged across her body. The teeth behind her faded red lips were needlelike and jagged, and when she opened her mouth all the way, her jaw gaped wide. To me, she was a child’s nightmare drawing come to life.

Not only are they formidable fighters, they have power over the mind.

“What, like they can make someone bark like a dog and roll over?”

Like she could make you ignore me—your loving and trusted advisor. But worse, she could make you give her the Gladius Solis. Kronin’s blade and the one weapon we have against the coming darkness.

“What? There’s no way she could…” But then I looked down at the hilt in my hand, and a sense of horror came over me as the realization hit of what I had almost done.

“Oh, shit.”

Indeed. Now if you are done fawning over the bird-woman, I suggest we depart. This room is about to become a warzone.

I looked up at Eve and saw her crouching, guarded before the large man. It was clear he knew how to handle himself, but beyond that, I couldn’t get a read on him.

It was like he was determined not to look like anything or anyone. He made me think of Namiko in a way, with his thick, black glasses and gloves and trench coat that touched the floor. The antithesis to the harpy’s neurotic, constant movement in every way, he manipulated the hammer as though it weighed nothing, calmly waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

They sustained this terrible stalemate for a couple of minutes longer until Eve’s wild impatience boiled over. With a head-splitting war cry, she fanned out her wings and rushed him again, aiming to claw out one or more of his vital organs.

The man in the shades didn’t flinch. He simply spun his hammer faster until fire erupted along the iron face. The flames were orange, then blue, then white in rapid succession. By the time Eve realized she was on a direct collision course with his controlled meteor, it was too late.

The impact made a horrible sizzle that awoke the last remaining dregs of my squeamishness and forced me to look away. Somewhere beneath her agonized screaming I thought I picked out the sound of vomiting too, courtesy of Silas Monk.

Funny how quickly the glamor had been torn right out of his life.

But Eve was far from dead. The harpy’s haggard silhouette stood out against the flames from the hammer, one shaking limb jabbed toward the enemy.

“Look at what you’ve done!” she howled. “Look at my face! My beautiful, exquisite, precious face!”

“Trust me,” said the hammer man. “I’ve seen it, and it’s none of those things now. Looks like you’re stuck with your charming personality now.”

I braced myself for another wild rage, but she sank to the floor, clutching her face and sobbing with her whole body. Seizing the opportunity, I ran behind her and grabbed hold of her former lover.

“Come on, Monk. We have to go!” He was slow to regain his sense of motion, but he followed along without complaint once I’d gotten him to his feet. “Does the elevator work?”

“Huh? Yeah, for me.” He pulled a cardkey from his pocket.

“Well, start that thing up before he decides to come after us.”

On cue, that deep voice roared, “Oh no you don’t. You’re not getting away, technician!”

The cardkey slid into the reader, and we both got a face full of angry, charging hammer before the doors slammed shut just in time.

But the elevator didn’t move. The sides of the doors began to dimple. Hammer Man was holding it in place just to keep Monk from escaping. I reached down into my bag.

This was a scenario that called for the big guns.

The Gladius Solis stabbed straight through the elevator doors the same way it cut through everything else: as if it were paper. I heard the guy on the other side give a wary grunt, and the elevator car was released. Silas immediately reached for the button panel. I stopped him.

“Wait. I want to try something.” The car wavered back into place, waiting for an input, and I put my thumb to the Door Open button.

“What are you doing?! Are you crazy? He’s gonna come rushing at us as soon as he sees the doors start to go!” Silas’s face was pale and clammy. He had never looked less like a billionaire playboy.

“That’s what I want! As long as your reflexes are good enough.” The elevator opened to reveal our friend had backed up to the other side of the room, getting a good running start. Exactly as I’d expected. “Okay, Monk, go when I say go.” I waited for four tense seconds, judging the distance as our adversary charged forward. “Go!”

We exploded from the elevator, and on my way out, I swung the Gladius Solis up to the farthest extent of its reach so that it just managed to slice through the elevator ceiling and fatally wound the car’s main support cable. Unable to slow his momentum in time, Hammer Guy smashed into the back of the open car, which rocked and wavered unsteadily before the cables snapped.

Its passenger roared all the way down.

“Shit, that was the elevator!” Monk cried. “Now what do we do?”

I gave him a look. “Duh, we take the stairs.”

That was easier said than done. The door I chose happened to be rigged with an alarm, which blared so loudly I couldn’t hear myself think. Still, it was our only option, and after the elevator crashed down into the lobby, an alarm didn’t seem out of place.

I grabbed the genius inventor with one hand, my sword in the other, and started running. The first few floors were okay, but the lower we got, the more wholesale panic we encountered; not to mention that some congestion was caused by two newly arriving harpies in cocktail dresses coming up to meet us instead of the other way around. These ladies had their wings out, blocking the path with armatures of feather and bone. I felt Monk cower at the sight of them.

“This is not happening,” he mumbled, somewhat maniacally. “Not happening. Not happening.”

“Stay with me, Monk. Try not to think about how you were banging one of those.”

He looked at me, disgusted, but at least he had broken out of his looping denial.

The stairwells were too narrow and crowded to use the blade, so I resorted to bludgeoning via hilt, and also good, old-fashioned shoving. This was when I discovered that the harpies were built like brick shithouses under all that blinding, bird-like ugliness. As I tried to barrel my way past them, they squared up between the railing and the wall, their wings bristling. Claws tore at my hair and clothes.

Monk screamed. I could tell he was about to start losing it again. “Get... get away from me! Get the hell away from me!”

“Sure,” I said. “Ask them nicely. I’m sure that will work.”

One of the harpies, in direct defiance of his request, thrust her arm over my shoulder in an attempt to grab him. It was a greedy mistake. I seized her forearm and used it to wrench her off balance. The bulk of her wings now worked against her. I dropped down as she fell forward, and then I drove my shoulder up into her chest.

The bird monster shrieked, and I was a little disappointed she didn’t squawk. She struck the railing hard, flailing against me. I took a couple serious wallops to the head and shoulders. A hank of my hair came out in her fist.

“Oh, you feathery fucker!” I shouted. “Now I’ll never get my hair right in the morning.”

Her friend rushed forward, and I braced myself against the steps, shoving her in the chest with all my might. The harpy’s center of gravity tipped over the railing, and she fell. Her massive wings flailed around to stop her descent, but the stairwell was too narrow. Her quick trip to the first floor ended with a meaty, squishy thud.

“Well, that’s a sound that’s gonna haunt me,” I said, mostly to myself.

I wished I could say for his sake that Silas Monk had been dashing and helpful, but he wasn’t. He mostly used me as a human shield, which I could hardly blame him for, since I was the one with the sword. This strategy became slightly less effective when the hotel security started flooding up the steps.

I almost lost him a couple times just because he couldn’t follow up after I’d whipped a harpy or strong-armed a guard out of his way.

At least he wasn’t crying or mumbling insanely anymore.

The first-floor stairwell had two possible exits: one that led into the lobby and one that opened into the underground parking garage. I grabbed Monk’s elbow. “You got a car in there?”

He nodded, apparently devoid of words as this point.

“Is it fast?” I asked. He nodded again. “Good enough! Let’s go.”

And that was how Silas Monk and I ended up leading a caravan of uniformed security personnel, monster harpies thinly disguised as gorgeous women, and the occasional, very confused luxury hotel guest on a conga line of madness through the Onyx subterranean lot.

If nothing else, I was learning to find fun in the strangest places. Plus, Monk’s car turned out to be a banana-yellow Aston Martin convertible, which would undoubtedly kill us both instantly if we got into an accident.

So, I made him put the top down.

If I had to go, I was determined to die in style.

Chapter Eighteen

By the time we found his car, Monk had gathered his wits enough to insist that he had to be the driver. He yanked the top down in a heartbeat, and as his car careened wildly over the brushed-stone paths of the garage, I leaned out the passenger’s side and clubbed anyone who didn’t get out of the way in time.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t fun as hell.

Well, it was slightly less fun when Monk nearly decapitated us going underneath the gate to leave the garage. I could have sworn the lady in the ticket window fainted as I ducked to keep the stick from coming down on my neck. He whipped out to the right, and we burned down the street, ahead of a wave of sirens and flashing lights.

I glanced over my shoulder. “Hope you’re a good driver, Monk!”

“Are you kidding me?” A grim smile broke across his features. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

“A nerd,” I said.

“Not just any nerd. A nerd with money out the ass!” Spotting a police cruiser coming at us from a side street, Silas punched the gas. The car leapt forward, clearing the police bumper by a scant few inches. He whooped as we left it in the dust.

“You should’ve told me all it would take to cheer you up is to let you drive the getaway car,” I said as I gripped the armrest.

“Hey, I’m not much of a fighter, but I can drive like a son of a bitch.”

His bragging was cut short by a huge thud and then a frantic shout. At first, I thought we’d hit a large black dog, and my stomach sank with the guilt. Then I saw the glint of eyes behind a thick curtain of hair. The harpy’s claws dug into the yellow hood, and it snarled at Monk and me. This one looked particularly pissed off.

Monk began to spin the wheel furiously. “What are you doing?” I yelled, over the squealing tires.

“Trying to shake her off! She’s wrecking the paint!”

I glared at him. “I think you can afford the repairs. Now get us the hell out of here.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He took the next right way too hard, and even though I almost fell out of the car, our little hitchhiker actually did fall off, so it was worth it.

Monk zipped down some side streets for a while, winding among houses with trees in the front and playgrounds in the back. The sound of sirens faded in the distance, but as soon as we shot out onto another main road, the cops resumed the chase. But as it turned out, Silas Monk was more than happy to drive his snazzy yellow Aston Martin with a total disregard for safety.

I cringed every time he squeezed narrowly between two cars or took an exit ramp at ninety miles an hour. We made more tire-squealing U-turns than I could count.

“Where the hell did you learn to drive like this?” I asked over the squealing tires.

“Video games!” he shouted back.

I groaned. “Just remember that we don’t have any extra lives, all right?”

He laughed as he swerved around a police cruiser that tried to ram us. “I wish I’d brought my Hummer,” he said. “Then we could have just run these dicks over.”

Hard to argue with that logic. “I’ll remind you next time.”

After forty minutes of speeding back and forth all over the city, tracing and retracing our tracks, Monk just narrowly avoided a miniature jam getting onto the freeway that cut off our pursuers. Monk cheered as we sailed ahead into the middle lane.

“Hold on,” I said. “You know this isn’t over, right? Now you need to tell me what’s going on with you so I know how deep this goes.”

“What do you mean, how deep? I made a drill that will save Earth huge energy costs in the long run. Things didn’t get weird until I met Eve.” He went quiet for a moment. “I can’t believe that guy hit her with a flaming fucking hammer.”

“Did you not see her transform into a horrible creature of myth right before that?” I sort of couldn’t believe this guy.

He was under her spell, Marcus said.

That made a lot more sense.

“She… transformed?” Monk looked horrified and a little sick all at once. “I don’t remember… wait… I do remember them turning into monsters. Holy shit!” His hand tightened and released on the wheel, knuckles whitening. “Shit. Those weren’t just nightmares.” He started to lose the color in his lips. “I thought those were just dreams, or episodes, or something. What the hell did she do to my brain? Everything is muddled when I think too hard about her.”

I shrugged. “Harpy magic, I guess. If you can remember anything, this sounds like a story I really want to hear. For more reasons than one.”

“Yeah, all right.” He took some deep breaths to calm the persistent shaking in his hands. “Maybe it would be better if we stopped somewhere for a second. Just real quick.” He kept his gaze fixed on the road, as if he thought looking anywhere else would jeopardize his grip on reality. “I need a minute to process all this bullshit.”

“Fine by me. Let’s grab some food. I’m starving.” I was also worried about having him behind the wheel. He’d gotten kind of a wild, unpredictable look in his eye. “Take the next exit. I don’t care what’s there.”

Monk pulled into an old-fashioned burger joint on the side of the road, gave me some money, and we ate in the car while he told me how he’d gotten mixed up in this mess.

“Honestly, I can’t remember exactly where I met Eve. It was sort of like she just appeared one day, and we were suddenly inseparable. A lot of the details are fuzzy in hindsight, and it makes me wonder what was going on during those times.”

Mind control, said Marcus. Quite effective, as far as I can fathom. The harpy’s secret weapon.

I decided to keep that fact to myself. No use freaking Monk out even further when we still had to drive back to San Francisco. He was away from Eve for now, but she wasn’t dead yet. We would have to go back to finish her off.

“What’s going to happen to her?” he asked, intruding almost uncannily on my thoughts. “I know what you think you saw—what I think I saw—but I’m not sure. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

I forced myself to have patience with this guy, maybe even a little sympathy. In the span of a few short hours, he’d had his charmed-ass life thrown into total upheaval. “Which part doesn’t seem possible?” I asked slowly. “Because I hate to tell you this, but it’s all possible, and it’s all happening. To you. Right now.”

“She can’t be a harpy.” Monk sounded angry now.

“Why, because you two hooked up?”

He scowled. “No, because harpies don’t exist! This is insane.”

“I’ll give you that last part,” I said. “About this being insane. But that’s it.”

“Shit,” he muttered. He was still holding onto the wheel with one hand. His face was red. I had to calm him down before he just dropped dead from stress and denial.

“I’m not saying this isn’t tough or that it doesn’t suck balls. Trust me, I know. But like I said, it’s happening, and we don’t have that much time. You need to accept this new reality and move forward. Which means I need you to help me try to figure things out. At least this way, you’re being proactive, right?”

At first, I got nothing. Then his shoulders started to slump, the tension leaking out of his body. He leaned back in the driver’s seat and shut his eyes. “Yeah.” He spoke almost gently. “Yeah. You’re right.” The inventor’s chest rose and fell. “Go ahead, then.”

“When did you start working with her?” I asked, feeling like an interrogator with a jumpy witness. I couldn’t lose him until I figured out what the hell the gods thought they were doing, screwing around with a new weapon. And I knew we might need him in the event that we’d have to use the drill in self-defense. Who better to explain how to use it than its inventor?

“It wasn’t until after the production prototype was finalized. Eve came on to me strong, started talking about not getting younger and how that really made her passionate about the planet’s future. All the right stuff, basically. The stuff I want to hear. She told me she had extremely generous investors who couldn’t put a price on innovation. I should have known it was too good to be true. But I let it slide until the first investors’ meeting. That was when I met her.”

Ah yes, her.

I couldn’t decide if it was good or bad that Marcus already knew who Silas was talking about.

“Eve blindfolded me for the ride to the meeting place, which was not completely usual for business meetings, but I mean, I’ve been called quirky a million times over the course of my career. If they wanted to keep their location under wraps, who was I to argue? And I was extremely gung ho about this project myself, so honestly, I would have let them get away with almost anything.” He frowned. “I think Eve must have known that.”

“Or she mind controlled you,” I said.

He nodded. “Right. Anyway, they brought me into this room, sat me down in this chair, and took the blindfold off. And at first, there was just an empty chair there that’s obviously nicer than the one they gave me. I was thinking I’d gotten conned, and I was trying to formulate a plan to get out of there. But they finally bring in the person they say is the investor.” He paused to experience the memory to its fullest extent. “She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen. To be honest, it’s difficult to picture her clearly. But she was an amazingly gorgeous woman, and she made me... certain promises—as long as I told her about the drill.”

“You didn’t think that was weird?” I asked. He really was the perfect target for a pack of power hungry harpies: dreamy, idealistic, wickedly smart, and yet still able to get shit done.

“You know what I thought was weird?” Monk asked. “This woman was like, nine feet tall. Even now, I don’t really know if that’s right or if it’s something I made up. I just recall her towering over everyone else. Maybe that one thing was enough to make everything else seem normal by comparison.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. And I don’t say that a lot.”

Her name is Lysiani. She is a goddess and the master of seduction. Tell the scientist that.

I hesitated. Silas Monk was in a fragile state at the moment, maybe one of the most fragile states of his life. Could his extremely secular world withstand the blow of learning that gods were real? What if his head exploded? What if he flipped out and crashed the car?

If he is to help protect the weapon he has built, he must know about the Forgotten and the true threat they pose. And you had no qualms about revealing this truth to him earlier.

I cleared my throat. “Monk? I need to tell you something that’s gonna make a lot of sense and none at all, at the same time.” He didn’t say anything, but his eyes caught mine, which I took as clearance to proceed. “She was nine feet tall because she’s actually a goddess named Lysiani.”

“A goddess,” he said, his blank eyes fixed on the floorboards at his feet. “What would a goddess want with a geothermal mining tool?”

For all intents and purposes, I had temporarily ceased to exist. His brain required every inch of space it could find to try and make space for the possibility of this new truth. Convincing a “normal” person of the Forgotten was hard enough; a scientist would take some work. Thankfully, he’d seen some really strange shit lately.

I gave him a nudge in the right direction. “Nothing, dude. That’s why I asked about weaponization.”

Okay, so it was less a nudge and more of an impatient shove, but I knew what was at stake better than he did, and while I was totally sympathetic to his maelstrom of feelings, we didn’t really have time to discuss them in a burger joint parking lot on the side of the highway.

“It has a laser in it,” Monk said numbly. “Everything I said back at the hotel is still true. The laser isn’t a weapon, but it could be.” He closed his eyes. “I think she told me what she wanted to do with it. I just… didn’t want to hear.”

“Was it something about killing gods?” I asked. “How about we swap seats? You can drool over this all you want as a passenger. I got shit to do.”

All the fuss had gone out of him. We switched places, and he settled back as I started the engine. “So, is that what it takes to kill a god-level being?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I designed that drill from the ground up. I know exactly what it’s capable of. And you’re telling me it would be enough to kill a god?” A wry smile emerged on his lips. “I should be proud of that, shouldn’t I?”

“Depends on who has control of the drill.”

“Uh oh,” Monk said.

“What? You never thought of that?”

He pointed through the window of the burger joint at the anachronistically large TV mounted on the wall inside. “Isn’t that you?”

The freeze frame of my face took up most of the screen. It had been ripped from hotel security footage, so the image wasn’t as clear as it could have been. I squinted. Monk only knew it was me because he was involved. The security camera was far too grainy to give anyone a positive ID on me.

“Yeah it is,” I said. “And we gotta get the hell out of here. I’ll give you that. Not your biggest problem, though.”

“Which would be what? That some nine-foot-tall goddess wants to use the tech I’ve practically gifted her to take over the world?”

“Not even.” I turned out of the lot and put the gas pedal to the floor. “If they’ve got me on tape, then they have you, too.”

I only drove the Aston Martin for ten minutes before ditching it on some quiet side street in favor of a less conspicuous car. “Just buy another one after this all blows over,” I told Monk. “Or like… buy it back from the police. You’re rich; can’t you do that?”

“No.” He sighed. “Well, maybe.”

“See? Problem solved.”

The nondescript grey hatchback I chose coughed to life, and I took it the long way back to the freeway just in case we’d been followed somehow. Even away from the city center, the alleyways were slanted and narrow. I was navigating purely on instinct, hoping none of my turns would result in a dead end.

That luck held out for longer than I expected, but not long enough to keep us out of trouble.

“There’s no outlet,” Monk said. “Oh shit, it’s the guy from the hotel!”

He stood dead center in the alley, still looking like a dystopian sci-fi extra in trench coat and glasses, still wearing a big-ass hammer across his back. When he saw us, he didn’t flee from the path of the oncoming vehicle. He got down into a fighting stance.

Victoria.

“Yeah I see him.”

I stepped on the gas.

Chapter Nineteen

My lead foot lasted only as long as it took for me to realize the dude in the alley wasn’t budging. I cursed and stomped on the brake. “Hold on tight!”

The grey hatchback skidded to a hard halt amid the squeal of tires and a cloud of acrid rubber smoke. Silas Monk cowered in the seat beside me, arms over his head. “What the hell is happening?” he demanded, his voice shaky.

“Well, we didn’t hit him,” I said. “But I think he’s about to hit us.”

A resounding boom shook the car as his giant hammer slammed the concrete wall next to the car. Debris pattered onto the roof and windshield. The shadow of the weapon passed across the roof and struck again. This time, the debris sounded bigger.

On the next backswing, I flung my door open and rolled low into the alley. Hammer Man beat on the wall a third time, and now I could see it was starting to crumble inward at the point of impact.

“He can’t help either of us if you crush him to death,” I shouted, standing up and brushing myself off.

“My conflict is not with you, human.” He kept his obscured gaze intently on Monk. “It would behoove you to get lost while you still can.” He adjusted his grip on the shaft of his hammer, his broad face expressionless beneath those impenetrable sunglasses. His mouth made a hard, dark line beneath a nose that had clearly been broken at least once. With a grunt, he pulled his weapon back for another mighty swing.

“But, see, that’s where you’re wrong. You’ve got a beef with Monk, and I need him. So, hell yeah, your conflict is with me.” The Gladius Solis was in my hand now. “Are we gonna sort this shit out or not?”

He stopped mid swing, faltering slightly against his own momentum. “All you’re doing is making this worse for yourself.”

“Eh, that’s the story of my life.” I backed away from the car, hoping he’d take the cue and follow me. “Just one request. Don’t blow that thing up, all right? I’m gonna need it to get out of here after I kick your ass.”

He laughed gruffly. “It’s almost a shame we met this way.” Then that damned colossal hammer was coming for my head. I ducked in the nick of time; the edge of it skimmed my hair.

Victoria!

“Not now, Marcus!” I shouted. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not any less busy than I was a minute ago!” Kronin’s blade sliced through the air, but it clanged to a stop against the shaft of the hammer.

“That’s not going to work here,” Hammer Guy said smugly. “Guess you’ll have to think of a way to ditch the cheat codes.”

I was more surprised than I had any right to be, and it pissed me off. Marcus had said over and over again that the sword was unbeatable, and so I felt like I had a right to expect it to actually cut through everything. My first instinct was that this dude had found a way to game the system, even though he called me the cheater.

I braced the flat of the blade against his next strike. Sparks jumped from between the weapons. “Who are you?” I demanded. The sheer weight of the hammer’s head gave me the edge I needed. He stepped back, and I forced him up and off. “Come on, spit it out. You’re not going to win this, man!”

By way of answering, he swung the hammer up over his head and brought it down two-handed between his feet. A web of rumbling cracks surged toward me, warping the surrounding ground. I leapt out of the way as the shockwave crashed into the wall at my back.

“Defeat me, and you might be worthy of my name.”

“What the shit is with you weirdos? You wanna be Hammer Guy for the rest of your life? Fine by me.”

Hammer Guy smirked. “I like how you’re assuming I’ll let you kill me.”

I growled. “I’m not assuming shit, dickass. I’m just going to do it.”

Victoria, listen to me. Engaging this individual is a mistake. Back off, retrieve Monk, and get to someplace I can explain without distracting you.

“I don’t know, man. I’m already pretty damn engaged.” The sword swiped across Hammer Guy’s black-clad abdomen as I lunged forward, singeing a hole in his shirt. The fabric stretched as he moved back, and I caught a glimpse of a dark chain-link tattoo on his skin. He responded by jabbing me with the broad end of the hammer. I stumbled back, gasping for breath.

“You got an invisible friend?” Hammer Guy sneered. “Or did Kronin’s sword just happen to find its way to a human lunatic this time?” The medallion fell from my neckline as I steadied myself. His eyes snapped to it. “Invisible friend it is.” Before I could stop him or get out of reach, he stepped forward and grabbed the chain, inspecting the coat of arms. “I think I know this guy. I’d ask if you killed him, but he probably died saving your life or something. They’re all about that shit in Carcerum.”

He let go of the medallion, and I stuffed it back into my shirt. “Do me a favor and don’t ever touch my shit again.” I squared up. “Let’s get this over with.”

“If you say so.” He whipped the hammer down at me, forcing me to dive out of the way. When I looked up, it was already spinning like a rotor above his head. “You were at the hotel before. You know what comes next.” The hammer started to sizzle.

“Fuck off!” A torrent of rage burst in my chest, and the next thing I knew, Kronin’s sword was flying through the air. Clean throw, but he had too much warning. I watched as he deflected it with the whirring hammer.

Not my finest moment, but I had a trick up my sleeve. I took a deep breath, held out my hand, and called, “Gladius Solis!”

The sword, lying where it had fallen after bouncing off the wall, skidded a few feet in my general direction.

“Not much of a teacher, was he?” Hammer Guy started to advance. “That’s all right. He’s not here to see this.”

The searing heat from the hammer bore down on me, the glare of the fire burning my eyes. I threw myself to the side, barely clearing the white-hot flames, and darted for the sword. The blade came out just in time to save my skull from being forcibly reshaped.

Damn, I wished Monk knew how to fight. Or do anything besides sciencey stuff and hiding in a stolen car. Vamps with knives and guns were one thing, but this guy was bigger than Rocco, and his hammer threw me off my game. Plus, it sketched me out that he seemed more interested in treating me like a toy. I’d take pure murderous intent over mind games any day.

“You’ll be sorry if he runs,” I said. The sword cut upward.

“I’ll be surprised if he gets the balls to look out the window.” Hammer Guy did a back turn and met my next strike with infuriating ease. “If he runs, I’ll go after him. I told you, my conflict isn’t with you.”

“Aren’t I the luckiest girl on Earth?”

“If I’m not mad at you, you’re up there.” He moved to take another swing but was stopped dead by a screeching cry from the other end of the alley. His head snapped around, and the semi-playful smirk fell off his mouth. “Dammit.”

A horde of lithe, slender shapes poured out of the street, filling the width of the alley like a screaming, vengeful torrent. It took me a second to realize they were harpies. Not as tall as Eve or the other one, but definitely louder.

“Where the hell did they come from?” I asked to no one in particular.

“I’ve been asking that question my whole life!”

I turned to look at Hammer Guy, but the harpy tide crashed between us, and he was gone behind a wall of wings and slashing claws. The report of the hammer blows cut through the screams with vicious regularity. I could already see the crowd starting to thin.

While the girls were preoccupied with Hammer Guy, I got back to the hatchback, which was now covered in scratches. A skinny hand snatched at me, so I cut it off. The claws clutched grotesquely at nothing.

It almost made me miss the familiarity of my boring New York vamps. Those guys didn’t constantly screech like they were on fire. Sure, they catcalled me, but I had established ways of dealing with that.

The door was closed and locked somehow. I could still see Silas Monk scrunched up in the seat. He’d lapsed back into staring silence, but at least he reacted when he noticed me. His thumb hovered over the unlock button on his door panel.

I nodded, and just as I heard the sound of the locks opening, a hand jerked me backward.

The air rushed from my lungs as I landed hard on my back. A short harpy loomed over me. “Going somewhere?” she asked, in a scratchy, witchlike voice. Her skin looked like it had hairline cracks, her eyes bloodshot scarlet. If Lysiani was the Harpy Queen or whatever, she didn’t have very high recruiting standards.

Then again, this bitch had just flung me like a ragdoll, so maybe it was in my best interest not to judge a book by its ratty cover.

She seized me by the arm and hauled me to my feet, aiming to toss me again. I dug the point of my sword into the pavement, stopping her at the cost of a painful jerk to my shoulder. Once she saw what was holding me in place, she bared her teeth, hissing, but she made no move to get near the blade.

I ripped my arm from her grasp, yanked the sword from the concrete, and shoved it through her bony chest. She dropped like a sack of rocks, and I dove into the car. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, let’s go.”

“Are you okay?” Monk asked. “You just killed her.”

As if I hadn’t noticed. “Yeah.” I put the car in reverse and burned rubber back toward the street. “It happens. Tell me if they start chasing.” There was an even chance that we’d be obliterated by oncoming traffic the second we popped out of the alley into the street, but given what was on the other end of the car, I thought it was a worthy risk.

At the mouth of the alley, I craned my neck as far back as I could then swung the wheel. The car swerved a little wide as its tires squealed, but we didn’t die, so I called it a victory as I punched it forward. “Yes!”

Monk let out his breath. “Holy shit. What are we gonna do? Where are we gonna go?”

“Working on it.” I pulled my phone from my pocket and tossed it into his lap. “Go into my email. Send a message to my contact named SplitScreen. Ask if she knows somewhere safe we can stay for now.”

Monk looked like he wanted to say something, but he wisely kept his mouth shut as he typed. A minute later, the app dinged. He looked at it. “She wants to know if you’re okay, what happened, and what you found out, in that order.” He paused. “And if you’re alone.”

“Well, I’m not, so you better announce yourself.” I wasn’t real happy about introducing Namiko and Silas Monk directly, given her history in Silicon Valley, but at this point, it couldn’t be helped. I just hoped she would see it that way too. My email alert sounded a few more times. “What’s she saying?”

“I think she’s mad,” said Monk. He sounded uncharacteristically cowed. “Look, I recognize her handle. I’ve seen her stuff. I’m trying to tell her I don’t necessarily disagree with everything she’s said, or all the information she’s uncovered, but she isn’t—” He looked at the screen again. “She says to bring me to her house so she can look me in the face.”

I held in a smirk. “Address? You might need to help me find it. I don’t know the area.”

“I’ll tell it to you if you swear this girl isn’t going to kill me when we get there.”

“You’d rather deal with the harpies, huh? Trust me, Namiko is like two feet shorter than Eve. You can handle it.”

Grudgingly, the richest tech mogul in Silicon Valley assumed the role of GPS, guiding me to my friend the computer espionage agent’s house.

Life had not stopped being weird as hell.

Namiko lived in a wealthy, sprawling neighborhood where most of the giant houses had gates. Hers was gothic wrought-iron, topped with four-inch spikes that Monk eyed nervously.

“She is not going to impale you, okay? She’s way too invested in this to ruin it now.” I pulled up to the intercom box. A camera swiveled to face the car. “Hey, it’s Vic. And… this guy.” I jabbed my thumb in Monk’s direction. “Sorry I had to bring him. It’s a long story. Turns out his girlfriend was a harpy.”

Namiko snorted.

“Hey, am I the only one who thinks it would be cool if we didn’t broadcast that information?” Monk asked.

“Pretty much,” I said. The gate clicked and began to swing open. “Don’t feel too bad. She might consider you humiliated enough not to torment you further.”

“Great.” He sulked all the way up the driveway and then all the way to her front door. Two more cameras examined us as we waited for her to let us in. A slot in the door, positioned precisely at Namiko-height, opened and closed in a flash, followed by the door itself.

She locked it three different ways behind us, repositioned the cameras, and primed a keypad. Then she led us down the front hall into a lofty, well-decorated living room. Noticing me staring at a wall of ornamental masks, she said, “This is my dad’s old house, from when he was still working in the States. Those oni masks are his.”

A laptop surrounded by three monitors was set up on the table in front of a leather couch. She posted herself in front of it and cast a disdainful glance at Monk. “Okay. So tell me how the hell this happened.”

Chapter Twenty

“Wow.” Namiko pushed her laptop away so that she could fully absorb the craziness I’d just related to her. “All that shit you were talking before, about the Forgotten—vampires and gods and monsters—it’s real? I... I’m not sure what to think about this.”

“I know you don’t care, but I can vouch for her,” Monk said. “I was there too. Obviously.”

She ignored him, getting back on her computer. “First things first, we should probably try to figure out who the guy in the trench coat is. He might be a problem if he’s going to keep turning up everywhere.”

“I know who he is.” Monk’s voice was weak. “Eve, she told me that I wouldn’t be safe without her protection. She said that all manner of creatures would come for me.”

“So what kind of creature is he?” Namiko asked.

“A demon,” he said. “And he’ll come for me again. I know it.”

Namiko stared at him with an open mouth, then turned to me. “Is that possible?”

More than possible. Marcus’s voice was tinged with worry. And more than that, I know which demon he is. A particularly foul creature by the name of Abraxzael.

“Abraxzael?” I said his name out loud before I had a chance to stop myself. Now it was their turn to look at me.

“Do you know him?” Namiko asked, somewhat suspiciously.

“What? No.” I touched the links of the golden medallion chain. “This is going to be hard to explain, but as long as we’re in this for the long haul, it might save us all some unnecessary confusion if I just tell you.” I held up the medallion for them to see. “The short version is that I had a friend at the beginning of this mess, he died, and he left me this. If I wear it, I can hear him.”

“Can he read your mind?” Namiko wanted to know.

“I… don’t know,” I admitted. “I hope not.”

I probably could if I wanted to, but I do not want to. I wish to continue respecting the established boundaries of our relationship.

“He says no. And he also says that he knows who the guy with the hammer is.” We all waited expectantly.

That being is Brax, otherwise known as Abraxzael. He belongs to a subset of Forgotten called the Marked. They are akin to what you would call demons.

I sighed. “The dude goes by Brax. And Brax is a demon.”

The blood drained from Monk’s face. “We’re all going to die.”

“Just shut up, nerd,” Namiko shouted. Monk flinched when she spoke.

The term is merely the closest approximation I thought to make. I admit that I do not know as much about the Marked as others. During my tenure in Carcerum, I never bore witness to one. My predecessor, however, had multiple encounters with Abraxzael over the years, and your hammer-wielding assailant fits the description.

“Well, what’s his deal?” I moved over and sat down next to Namiko, motioning for Monk to join. “I won’t lie; this is gonna be pretty weird. I can tell you what he says, but you’re just going to have to trust me on it. Can you do that?”

Namiko didn’t look happy, but she relented. I glanced at Monk. “If we all wear it together, would we be able to hear him?” he asked.

“I don’t—” The question put me way more on the spot than I expected.

Namiko saved me. “There’s no way I’m getting that close to you.” She never looked up from her screen.

I cleared my throat as Monk retreated a few inches across the couch. “Sorry, Marcus. Please continue.”

The history of the Marked is thus: they were the gods’ first attempt at creating an enslaved race, but they proved too willful to subdue. After several failed rebellions, the largest of which resulted in many human casualties as well, the Marked were formally banished to their own realm.

Namiko and Monk stared at the medallion while I related Marcus’s message. Namiko shot me a look. “Do you know how this works?”

“Ghost magic, as far as I can tell. He told me it holds the spirits of his ancestors. Anyway, why would Brax have a vendetta against Monk if he helped him build the drill?”

It is not the vendetta that worries me. It is what will happen if he gets ahold of the drill.

I grumbled. “That makes more sense to me than I want it to. It seems our sex goddess isn’t the only one who wants your weapon.”

“What can we do?” Monk was draining confidence by the second as the weight of his actions bore down on him.

“We have to make sure no one else gets it,” I interjected. “Doesn’t matter who or what stands in our way. You made it, it exists, and some really bad shits are trying to get their hands on it. But we can use this to our advantage. If this thing really is powerful enough to use in a fight against the gods, we need to secure it for our side. If the gods have a plan and that plan is coming to fruition, I want to have access to everything that will help us.” Specifically, I wanted access to anything that would help me, but I kept that to myself, giving Monk a look. “It’s not in your hotel room, is it? Please tell me it’s not in there. Please tell me it’s not already gone.”

“Of course, it’s not in there,” he said, insulted. “The only one that exists right now is in my lab. I had it transported back there after the presentation at the Tech Institute.”

“That settles it. We need to go back and get it.”

“That’s not going to be easy.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Namiko cut in. I could have hugged her.

“Something that doesn’t involve tons of law enforcement,” Monk retorted. “They’ll be all over us by the time we get there.”

She frowned. “Right, because I’m sure the demon guy from hell cares about how many cops are guarding the thing he wants to steal. I would bet money that after you met him on the street, he decided you were too much trouble and he could take care of you after he recovered the tech. He’s probably on his way out to your facility right now.”

Monk wanted to disagree with her, vehemently, but he couldn’t. He opened his mouth, inhaled, and closed it again. A cloud rolled in over his features. “He’s going to get everything,” he said quietly.

Namiko didn’t answer, but she didn’t twist the knife either. The tension in the room thickened.

“I know it doesn’t look great right now,” I said. “From any angle. But don’t give up yet. I know a guy who may be able to help us with the cops.”

“You know a guy who can stop an entire investigation?” Monk brightened. “Because if so, I can make you very, very rich.”

“Gross,” Namiko scoffed. “I’ll be over here figuring out the best way to break into your place.”

“Will you show me when you’re done so I can better optimize security?” Monk asked.

She glared at him over the top of the screen. “No.”

I shut the door to the next room behind me before breaking out my cell phone. Content to shun Monk with miles of icy silence, Namiko was happily at work devising a plan to break and enter, should that become necessary. For someone with the face and stature of a mid-teen at the oldest, she had the razor-sharp cunning of a seasoned criminal. And apparently, their joy of committing crimes.

“What a motley crew we are, huh, Marcus?”

I am concerned for your safety, Victoria. These are much larger risks than we ever had to take together, and you have only just made the acquaintance of both your partners.

“It could be better, and yeah, maybe I wish it was. But we don’t have any other option, dude. We’d be doing the same shit if you were here, except I guess you’d at least have armor.” I smiled. “Remember all that bullshit you said about being wrong about me? Just assume you’re still wrong about me, and I’ll come out of this kicking all kinds of ass.”

Very well. I only wish that I was better able to assist in such a critical mission.

I stared at the phone in my hand. “You can join me in hoping Deacon doesn’t bite my head off when I call him in three seconds.” I grimaced. “It pains me to admit, but I need his help. I don’t know jack about smooth-talking my way out of trouble. Usually, I just cause as much damage as I can.”

Are you confident he will not simply inform his colleagues of your imminent arrival?

“If he does that, I’m going to be pissed as shit.” I wanted to seem like I was joking, but inside, I had an identical fear. Yes, I liked Deacon, and under different circumstances, I would have tried harder to keep him coming around. But I was also keenly aware of our positions on either side of a certain line.

He didn’t owe anything to me—in fact, I sort of owed him. He could have brought me in on suspicion of any number of things at the jail. He could’ve made sure I didn’t get out before I hit middle age.

It felt pretty bad to be putting him on the ropes again. And yet, I did it anyway.

The world was at stake.

Chapter Twenty-One

“Deacon St. Clare.”

I’d sort of been hoping he would sound different this time. Uglier, maybe. No dice, he still sounded as smooth as they come. “Hey, it’s Vic.”

“Vic? Hold up.” Footsteps sounded on his end of the line, followed by a door closing. Then he said, “What the hell are you doing out there?”

“Out there?” I shot back.

“Yeah. I saw the shots from the cameras in San Fran. The images are blurry enough that my people won’t get a solid ID on you, but it won’t fool me.” He paused. “Why am I seeing you all over security cameras in some swanky hotel parking garage? Why are you stealing Aston Martins? This is not why I let you go.”

“Whoa there, cowboy. I would just like to state for the record that the car I allegedly stole belongs to Silas Monk, and he is the one driving it in that video—even if they could see me. Okay? So it’s not stolen. And also, you did not let me go, Deacon. You don’t get to dictate my life because you don’t own me.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. But it doesn’t make this shit you’re pulling legal, Vic. Think about the position you’re putting me in now that you, a wanted individual, has contacted me. Now I either have to lie for you or turn you in. I don’t want to do either one of those.”

I chewed my lip. “I’m sorry, too, because everything you just said is right, and I totally thought about it and called you anyway. I know this is really unfair of me, and I know I’m putting a lot on the line without your permission. I just… need help.”

“And what, I’m the only one you can go to?” He didn’t sound like he was buying it, which made me nervous. If he bailed, we’d have to wing it, and I wasn’t real confident in Monk’s or my ability to do that successfully.

“I mean, Jules is a public defender, but… she’s a public defender, man. She’s the public defender type. If I told her I needed advice on how to screw the law, she’d have an aneurysm on the spot.”

“I’m not gonna give you advice on how to screw the law, either, whatever the hell that means.” I could tell he was pacing by the cadence of his voice. “Look—what are you dealing with here? If you’re trying to avoid charges or evade arrest, I really can’t help you on the grounds that it would make me a criminal, too.”

“What if I couched it in purely hypothetical terms that can’t be proven to be rooted in reality?” I asked. “Then you’d be, like, a crime consultant. You’d be clarifying details in a theoretical case that is not at all real under any circumstances. Right?”

“Vic?”

I dared to put the smile back on. “What?”

“You’re a real pain in the ass.” He sank audibly into a chair. “Okay, okay. Hit me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dammit, woman, you spend five minutes sellin’ me on hypotheticals and shit, and now that I’ve finally agreed, you ask me if I’m sure? You’re trying me, Vic. You’re really tryin’ me.” But there was the sound of a smile, if a little strained, under the veneer of frustration.

I laughed. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you when I get back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Lay this thing on me before someone comes busting in here and sends us both to jail. Not too many details, okay? I still need my plausible deniability.”

“All right. Say there’s something really important we need, but we have to get through a police or FBI barricade. What would we say to get access?”

“That depends. Is it a murder scene?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

Deacon paused. “No, I’m not even gonna ask. Robbery?”

“Maybe.”

“Vic, if it’s a robbery you committed, I’m going to have to strongly recommend you do not return to the scene.”

I laughed again. “Screw you, St. Clare. I have not committed any robberies as of late.” Too late, I realized I’d forgotten about the grey hatchback, which was now sitting in Namiko’s driveway. Although technically, that was grand theft auto. “No, it might be a robbery depending on whether or not we’re too late.”

He groaned at that. “It’s like, I want to know, but I also don’t want you to tell me, like ever. You’re lucky I’m not stationed out there.” For the third or fourth time, he sighed. “All I can tell you is this. You don’t really have any say in whether or not they let you by, unless you’re their superior. If you’ve got someone with you who owns the place or lives there, that could help your case a bit, but not always.”

“That’s not much, Deacon. How is that supposed to help me?”

“Look, I can’t say more without feeling like I’m aiding and abetting a crime. It all depends on the individual circumstances, including the specific agents you’re talking to. Some of them are dicks.”

“I’m surprised you’d admit that, given your current profession.”

He laughed. “How do you think I know?”

“Thanks, Deacon. I owe you one, or five, I guess.” The phone went silent for a second, and I checked the screen to see if we were still connected. “Deacon?”

“Yeah. Still here.” Silence again, and then he spoke in a hush. “Okay. There’s one more thing I shouldn’t tell you. This could get me into deep shit.”

“It’s the only shit I know,” I answered with a grin.

Deacon laughed from the other side of the country. “Listen, you need to keep this between us, but it’s about Monk. He’s on a list.”

“Shit. What? Like al qaeda?”

“No. Not yet. The bureau keeps a list of guys like him, tech guys. There’s a slew of them that make it onto the list, but some of them get upgraded. A few weeks ago, Silas Monk got an upgrade.”

“Upgrade?”

“Yeah. Just being on the list means he’s working on something that could be of interest to national security. Getting an upgrade means either he’s made suspicious contacts or something that would raise an analyst’s eyebrows and make his asshole pucker. I can’t tell what it is by just looking but…”

After a beat, I asked, “But what?”

“But… Don’t trust him, okay?”

I glanced up at the doorway, not knowing where Monk, or Namiko for that matter, was. Playing it safe, I answered, “Yeah. Sure. You got it.”

“Do something else for me, and be careful. Whatever it is you’re up to. I know you’re a little crazy, but I want to know you’re looking out for yourself.”

I chuckled. “I’m the only one I look out for. See you later. And Deacon... thanks.”

I hung up on him to save us both the agonizing awkwardness of trying to end that call in any other way. Taking a moment to collect myself and force the redness from my cheeks through sheer power of will, I slipped my phone into my bag and ran my fingers through my hair. “I am going to go back out there, we’re gonna nail down a plan, and then we’re going to execute. Flawlessly. Like always.”

That last part might not be entirely true, but a little optimism couldn’t hurt.

Namiko looked up from her screen as I crossed the threshold. “Hi. What did your friend say?”

“Hang on.” I panned my gaze left, then right. “Where the hell is Monk? He wasn’t stupid enough to ditch now, was he?”

Namiko’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even notice he wasn’t here anymore. Maybe I was ignoring him too hard.” She did a full spin on the couch and found nothing new. “It’s a big house. He could be lost.”

“Okay, but why is he sneaking around in the first place? He was kind of growing on me, but this sets him way back.”

“That’s a shame. You were growing on me, too.” Both of us jumped and whirled to glare at the doorway where Silas Monk was now standing. He grinned at us. “A guy can’t go to the bathroom once in a while?”

“You never asked me where it was,” Namiko said accusingly.

“It’s a bathroom. I figured it couldn’t be that hard to find. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.”

Namiko looked extremely dissatisfied by this explanation, and I couldn’t blame her. It didn’t sit right with me, either, but now I knew we needed him for the next step. “Don’t do shit like that,” I told him, meeting as close to the middle as I could. “If you have to go somewhere, tell us. We thought you got kidnapped again.”

“Sorry. You’re right. I just didn’t want to disturb her since I think she’s annoyed just knowing I exist.”

Namiko muttered, “You’re not wrong.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have a plan, you guys, so listen up.” To their credit, they both actually looked at me. “My—”

Namiko’s computer beeped. She glanced at the screen, and her face dropped. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Her expression told me exactly what was wrong.

“The cops are here.”

Reflexively, I turned toward her front door, even though I couldn’t see anything from the living room. “How many are there?”

A knock rang out down the front hall.

“Police!” someone called. “Open up!”

Namiko whispered, “There are a lot.” She turned the laptop toward me to show the policemen filling both camera screens. My mind raced, trying to come up with one more, last ditch, miraculous solution.

There was none. The jig was up. Silas Monk seemed to know it, too. He ran his hand over his face, and his whole body deflated. He glanced at me.

“I can’t fight cops,” I said. “No, wait. I won’t fight cops.”

“No, yeah.” He nodded. “I understand. I’m not a fighter anyway.” Truer words had never been spoken, but I let it slide.

“Let’s just get this over with,” I said and let Namiko lead us to the door. She popped the locks and cracked it open.

“All the way,” said the officer in front. “We’re not here to hurt anybody.” Reluctantly, Namiko stepped back. As soon as he saw me and Monk, the cop got on his radio. “We got ‘em. They’ll be in for questioning in about twenty minutes.”

Monk went first to be led down into the driveway. They didn’t shackle him, and he looked back before he got in the squad car, meeting my eyes for a split second. He was so hang-dog that I was suddenly awash in both pity and guilt, and that made the concept of questioning and jail seem like something I might just deserve this time.

“Don’t look so worried, ma’am. We just want to find out what you know.” My cop was handsome: dirty blond, rugged jawline, blue eyes. He had the kind of smile that made him a shoo-in for violent crime units; victims’ families would cling to him in the midst of their own personal storms.

I didn’t trust him. He reminded me of things I had tried and failed over and over to forget.

“Let’s go,” I said quietly.

“Vic—” Namiko’s fingers brushed the back of my arm. She’d never looked smaller than she did right then, still half inside the doorway and completely helpless. The house looked like it was swallowing her.

I smiled, hoping it came out more convincing than it felt. “I’ll be fine, Namiko. Everything will be fine.”

Then I faced forward again and saw someone weaving through the crush of squad cars jammed into the driveway. Her blood-red hair gleamed.

When I noticed her, she was looking at Namiko. Then her gaze shifted directly to me. I hardened my face, determined to communicate the explicit disgust with which I associated her whole kind. Instead of responding with anger of her own, she smiled.

That was a thousand times worse.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“See? That wasn’t so bad.” The cop had a deliberately gentle hand on my elbow as he guided me toward his cruiser. “You don’t have to be cuffed. We’re just going to talk.”

“That’s fine.” Thirty seconds ago, it had been fine. Now that I knew who was behind this whole situation, it was mostly just enraging. Still not enough to make me want to hurt cops, but I could definitely fight some.

As for the boss bitch, she was going down.

I stood with my hand on the car door, monitoring the red-headed harpy’s progress. Every step seemed to make her grow, and by the time she reached speaking distance, she towered over everyone around her. I had seen it before in the warehouse, but face to face, the effect was daunting. I hated having to look so far up to make eye contact with her.

And I hated the pure objectiveness of her beauty. There wasn’t a single flaw on her body, not even an out of place hair. The constant smile on her lips widened as she finished closing the remaining distance, waving the rugged officer away. He didn’t resist or even ask her any questions. He just left.

“Must be nice to have an inexhaustible source of mindless slaves,” I remarked.

“I like to think it’s nice for them, too. You’ll know what it’s like soon enough.” A slight frown creased her forehead. “Unless I decide to just finish you off. You’ve proven to be a little too feisty.”

“Yeah.” I rubbed the toe of my shoe in the dirt. “Turns out I don’t like it when Earth gets overrun by a bunch of power hungry monsters.”

She giggled, flashing me a glint of deceptively sharp teeth behind her rosy lips. Like when I spoke with Eve, a warm sensation crept over my skin. Except this time, instead of bringing me a calming peace, all I could feel was rage. The buzzing sound when she spoke was like a gnat flitting near my ear, waiting to be squashed.

“Aren’t you precious?” she continued. “Power hungry monsters took this world the moment the gods left—they’re called humans.” A malicious light crept into her eyes, behind which I saw nothing except vanity and ruthless pride. “Give Earth over to my goddess, and she will make it into an oasis.”

“Somehow, I doubt that very, very much.” I gestured to the scene around us, the cops, the cars, and the flashing lights. “How about this? You call off your dogs, and we settle this one on one.”

“A tempting offer,” she said thoughtfully. “But no. Why would I rid myself of such an advantage just to guarantee a lesser being a fair fight? That is not a logical course of action. However…” She grinned cruelly. “If a fight is what you want, then that’s what you will get.”

As she finished speaking, I realized two things. One: her minions were closing in on me. Two: it was suddenly very dark. Glancing up, I saw that the latter was because she had spread her wings, blocking out the sun with their expanse.

“Oh, shit.” The beat of those wings sent the driveway gravel spinning. She looped her way into the sky, until all I could see was a vague shape. I wrenched my gaze back to Earth. She’d come down eventually. And I’d deal with her when she got here.

A quick assessment of the situation told me things were not good. The harpy was the only one I had any sort of beef with. She was just using the cops as a bunch of human shields.

But as I looked at them now, I realized they weren’t humans at all. They were vampires.

Anger flooded my veins as they closed in, and I lashed out with my bare fists. I was tired of taking it easy on these bastards. I barely felt it when my fists connected with jaws and stomachs and noses, but I heard the shrieks of pain and hunger as my enemies fell. The power in my arms was dangerously intoxicating.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I heard a voice calling out to me. But I couldn’t focus on it. There was only the rage and the fight. The howls of the swarming vamps buzzed in my ears as I tore through them, breaking limbs and dropping bodies to the ground. They started to flee before me, terrified by the force I had become.

I gave chase, then stopped as a large figure stepped in front of me.

It was Rocco Durant.

He snarled at me with his wide, toothy grin, like he had on the day I chased him down the docks.

“You,” I shouted. “You’re dead.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but only laughed instead. It filled me with a fire I had never known before. Without thinking, the sword was in my hands. I felt like I could cut a mountain in half, but I didn’t need to go that far. All I needed was to end this miserable life.

I raised the blade high, and Rocco transformed into the monster he had become on the day I last saw him. The day I killed him.

The day Marcus died.

Marcus.

Something wasn’t right, and my blade wavered. Rocco beat his chest but he stayed rooted to the ground. A faint voice called out to me and I reached for it.

Vic... Victoria... you are under her spell.

“Marcus... I…” I blinked and suddenly the world changed. Gone was the buzzing, the heat, the anger. And the figure standing in front of me wasn’t my parents’ killer but a terrified looking Namiko.

I dropped to my knees, the blade extinguished by my side.

“Are you, okay?” Namiko asked. She stared at me wide eyes like her whole world had been turned upside down.

“I’m so sorry, Namiko,” I choked out. “It was the harpy. I was under her spell.”

“I know,” she said. “I saw her, the woman from the warehouse, talking to you. Then she turned into this hideous creature and you went nuts.”

I lifted my head sharply. “The vamps.”

Spinning around, I saw a dozen police officers rolling around in the dirt. They weren’t vampires at all, just men and women trying to do their job.

“Shit, go to them,” I said. “Make sure they’re okay.”

Namiko nodded. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to go clip that bitch.”

I grabbed my sword and marched past the cars and fallen officers. I could see the harpy waiting for me, floating near the end of the driveway.

“You’re with me, aren’t you, Marcus?”

Always.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep her out of my head. I can’t trust myself.”

Then trust in me. Follow my voice, and I will guide you.

I nodded. Time to end this charade.

“My, my.” The harpy’s shadow fell over me as I walked near. “It looks like our little rat is smarter than we imagined.” She flapped her wings above, eyeing me with a predator’s vision. The wind blew my hair back. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

The creature dropped like a stone from the sky, aiming for me with deadly purpose. Her long claws snaked out toward my throat.

The wide end of Namiko’s driveway was empty, her heavy gate closed. This was what I had wanted from the beginning. And I was prepared to follow through.

I dodged, but she was too fast. The feel of her nail edge scraping my skin set me back into battle mode, no holds barred. The sword seemed to jump into my hand as if it had been waiting for me to snap out of it. Nothing had ever felt as good as that first hard swing. I missed, but it didn’t matter. The only thing of any importance was that I was fighting the way I wanted to fight so that I could win the way I wanted to win.

This harpy was either more agile than the others I had fought before, or she was just more filled with bullshit. She was constantly half a step ahead of me, dancing mockingly just out of my reach. All of my swings, no matter how sure I was that they’d land, left little more than scratches. She was doing it on purpose; I felt it. Pushing me to the brink of my tolerance. Trying to break through the armor I thought I’d built up.

Concentrate, Victoria. Call on the fire in your soul to sustain you. Your heart is true. She cannot corrupt it.

“No, it’s not. There’s a lot of shit wrong with my heart, Marcus, and you know it. I’m just too damn stubborn to let it go this way.”

All this hit-and-miss wasn’t helping. I was wasting my energy pool, which, although extended considerably, remained finite. I could feel the strain of a battle that had gone on far too long wearing on me in more ways than one.

And then suddenly, there were three of her.

I stopped mid-swing and blinked. Three perfect copies of this redheaded crone flew before me. They swooped in for an attack.

I slashed outward at the first, but my blade passed through it as if it were made of smoke. The second veered toward my right, and while I was distracted by it, something plowed into me. A huge chunk of skin was ripped from my side.

All three figures rushed skyward—all I could hear was their laughter.

“Marcus…”

It is another one of her tricks, but you can beat this. Steel your nerves. Wait for my word.

The three harpies turned around for another attack, screeching the whole way. The one in front came at me with raised claws. They were aiming for my eyes, ready to gouge at my face.

Steady.

I didn’t even blink as the mirage passed through me.

The second buzzed overhead, trying to get me to take the bait, but I held my ground and waited for number three.

Now!

The moment Marcus spoke, I sprang into action. Like I was chopping a log, the Gladius Solis swung overhead. Blood and feathers rained down around me, and I heard a wail like a bat caught in a cage.

I turned around to see the harpy flopping in the dirt, one wing completely severed from her body.

“How dare you.” Her voice was gnarled, rasping against my eardrums. She bent like a tree in a tornado. “You have defiled me!”

“And I’m just getting started.” I rotated the blade smoothly with my wrist, rebalancing its weight. “You can keep trying if you want, but we both know the game is over. The ending is up to you now.”

She stared at me, her eyes bugged and wild. The thin lips pulled back from jagged teeth, parting in a brutal scream.

She launched herself toward me.

“The hard way it is, then,” I said as I raised my sword.

“Vic?”

Hearing the sound of my name was like breaking the still surface of a lake after a deep, cold dive. I turned around, refreshed and seeing the world with new—or at least changed—eyes. Namiko’s face took a moment to register in my mind. I figured she’d be terrified or revulsed by me, but the expression she wore was one of concern. Compassion. And a hint of triumph.

“You did it,” she said as she reached a hand down to help me to my feet.

“With some help.” I smiled. “How are the girls and boys in blue?”

She shrugged. “Pretty banged up, but they’ll live. None of them seem to know what’s going on, though. It’s like they’re waking up from a coma. How hard did you hit them?”

“Pretty hard, but I’d wager their confusion is our redheaded friend’s doing.”

She nodded as we walked toward them. “So what can I do to help? What’s next?”

“Find Monk,” I said. “Quick. If we get out of here before they recognize us, they’ll leave eventually. You stay here and make sure that happens. There aren’t any outstanding warrants in your name, are there?”

Namiko raised her chin proudly. “I always cover my tracks.”

“Good.” My roving eye spotted Monk standing awkwardly against the side of a police car, arms folded. “Ugh. Does he think he looks tough posing like that?” Moving as fast as I dared to risk, I beelined to him. “Get over here. We’re leaving.”

“Fine by me.” He frowned. “What the hell was all that?”

“Shut up and take me to your lab,” I said.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Monk was driving again, much more safely than last time. Namiko had loaned us a car, but it wasn’t the sleek silver ride she usually traveled in. We were in a tiny, boxy Smart car, not much bigger than a child’s Power Wheels. It wasn’t my first choice to drive us to a possible showdown with evil. I was just glad no one I knew was around to see me in it.

I sat in the passenger seat in silence, my last fight swirling in my head. Monk seemed lost in his own thoughts, and he asked no questions, which was good. Somehow, I didn’t think he’d understand what had really happened. Hell, I didn’t know what it looked like outside of my own perspective. Just good old Vic, taking down law enforcement.

How badly had she gotten to me? There was no way to know, but I hated the idea of some damn monster toying with my brain and my free will. A straight up fight I could handle. Mind control made me feel all gross inside.

Onto the next stage of your quest, Victoria. There will be time for reflection later. Remember what is at stake here.

I rubbed my hands over my face, thinking about this damn drill. The LIGHT was the thing that could help me push back against the gods like I meant it. I was sorely in need of some kick-ass instruments of deity destruction.

“Do you think it’s still there?” I asked Monk. The answer was something I wasn’t sure either of us wanted to think about, let alone vocalize, but now that my mind was on the fight to come, I needed to talk and get my head in the game.

“It better be, or I’m really going to need to overhaul my security systems.” He talked like he was joking, but his eyes were steely. “I think any cops around the lab should let me in since I own the place, but I guess you never know. How’s your sweet-talking skill?”

I bit my lip. “We’re about to find out.”

Monk Industries was housed in a starkly white building with clean, modern lines that gleamed in the lengthening sunlight. Almost immediately, I picked out a set of flashing red and blue lights. “Yep, here we go.”

“Lot’s gonna be full of them, I bet,” Monk muttered. His eyes started to shift nervously, fingers tapping against the wheel. “Let’s hope they’re friendlier than the last bunch of cops we met.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?”

We turned the last bend before the approach to the front of the massive building, and even in the current situation, I was struck momentarily dumb by the scale of Monk’s operation.

“Nice digs,” I said, when I found my voice.

“Thanks. That view never gets old.” There were more police cruisers clustered in a little knot near the walkway up to the doors but not nearly as many as I’d dreaded.

“Why’s it so quiet here?” I asked. “I’m not really complaining, but it makes me nervous.”

Monk grimaced. “Me too. Feels like an ambush.”

I was pretty sure he said that just to seem cool, but distressingly, he wasn’t wrong. It did feel like a trap waiting to be sprung. My heartbeat picked up as we pulled into a spot not too close to the cruisers. No policemen occupied the vehicles, and I didn’t see anyone lingering around.

Either the cops were inside, or they were all dead. Neither prospect brought a smile to my face. I shut the car door and started walking toward the curb without checking to see if Monk was behind me.

“Hey, are you gonna be all right?” he asked, jogging briefly to catch up with me. “You’ve been different since we left that house.”

“I’m fine. Well, I’m as good as I can be fighting mythical creatures and trying to save the world.” He didn’t seem convinced, so I added, “Really. What happened back there would be too hard to explain.”

“I don’t know. You’ve done a decent job with everything else.”

“I appreciate the compliment, but you don’t have to worry.” I paused before reaching out to one of the frosted glass doors. “Is there anything in here I need to watch out for? Security droids? Lasers? Highly trained ninja operatives?”

“The security is probably already disabled if they’re in there somewhere. And the ninjas have the day off.” Monk peered through the glass. “I can’t see anything. Want me to go first?”

“No. I don’t think you could protect me from a pack of kittens, Monk.” I gritted my teeth and yanked open the door.

He followed, grumbling, “I could if they were declawed.”

The interior was vast and open… and empty of everything except ridiculously fancy cars. It looked like the inside of a recently abandoned building, so quiet and deep were the shadows. I caught myself breathing shallowly, as if that would help me hear the stillness better. It didn’t sit right with me.

Even if the cops had already processed this floor, they should’ve been posted up on a perimeter, just in case. I’d seen enough search sites to know there was something seriously jacked up with this one.

“Be careful.” My whisper carried much too far in all the wide-open space. “I don’t know where they are.”

“Upstairs, maybe. Or downstairs. There are a lot of levels in this place.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Where do we need to be?” Hopefully, he’d get the hint and not make me elaborate.

“All the way on the bottom. This way.”

The elevator didn’t play music as it dropped us down below the first floor. I kept my eyes fixed on the digital floor counter, trying to ignore all the drastic possibilities piling up in my mind. Maybe there was another harpy in charge of the police force that came here, and they were long gone with the drill. Maybe there was no drill at all, and it was all a weird, elaborate con to lure me here to kill me. Maybe my brain was still scrambled by the harpy’s influence.

The elevator sang out a pleasant tone. Its doors slid open a hundred feet from the biggest vault door I’d ever seen.

“Voila,” Monk sang. Seeing his vault seemed to wipe his stress clean away. I wished I had that kind of instant-off switch.

“Okay, it’s gotta be in there,” I said. “I’m not sure even my magic sword could cut through that.”

Yes, it could. Fortunately, it is the only thing that could.

“I’d say you could give it a shot, but we’re pressed for time.” He put his palm up against a hidden panel, then pressed each fingertip and his thumb in specific locations on the face of the door. A massive bolt freed itself somewhere within. “Come on.” He patted one of the handles on the gigantic lock-wheel. “It takes two to crack this baby open. On a good day.”

He wasn’t exaggerating. We fought that thing for three whole minutes before it started to budge, a problem I was confident originated with his perfectly average upper body. He was almost hanging on it before the wheel decided to turn. Then he dropped off and put his hand back on the hidden plate. “Stand back.”

The door slid out on an arc of embedded tracks, passing a wall of lasers over both of us. I put my hand in my bag, running my thumb over the now-familiar contours of the hilt. It gave me strength.

Still, I was worried. Not that the vault would be full of cops or that I’d find all the disappeared New York vamps waiting for me inside. I was just terrified that the LIGHT would be gone. And if it was, I’d be well and truly fucked, along with the rest of humanity. The Gladius Solis was a hell of a weapon, but I didn’t know if it could deflect a laser drill strong enough to kill a god.

The door crept along its tracks so slowly I wanted to blow it to pieces. “Can’t you make it go faster?”

“No. It’s so heavy it’s a safety risk if it goes too quickly. There’d be no way to save someone who got caught.”

I bounced from foot to foot, anxious to get moving. I hadn’t anticipated so much waiting.

“Hey!” The voice cracked out down the short hall like a gunshot. Silas Monk flinched and moved to cover his head. I spun around, sword brandished.

I wonder if he realizes how lucky he is that you are here, Marcus mused.

“I guarantee he doesn’t.” I spoke through clenched teeth, staring a black uniform in the eye. He was pointing a gun directly at my face.

“Hands up. Drop the weapon!”

Raising my free hand, I kept a firm grip on the hilt. His eyes flicked back and forth so quickly I thought he might pass out. “Look to my right,” I suggested. “See who’s with me. And then please put down your gun.”

The guy flicked his broad, square head toward Monk, squinted, and did a double take. “Wait. Sir?”

Monk brought his arms cautiously down. “Uh…” He looked at the name patch. “Yeah. Hey, Joe. You working late tonight?”

“Shit, it’s really you.” His suspicion toward me only lessened marginally. “Do you know her?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah. She’s cool.” Monk kept glancing toward the gun, licking his lips. Sweat was starting to bead on his temples. He wiped his face. “So, everything is fine, right? Where is everyone?”

Joe blinked. “Sir…” He looked between us, rapid fire. It was clear I was missing some subtext, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it was. “Yes,” he said at last. “Everything is fine.” He unhooked a walkie talkie from his belt. “I’ll tell the others to stand down.”

“Much appreciated,” Monk said. “I’d rather not be murdered at work.”

I eyed the back of Joe’s head as he hurried back toward the elevator, trying to decide if I should take him down or not. My instincts were screaming at me that the whole place stank of something fishy.

Leave him, Marcus said. But do not trust him.

Forcing myself to be satisfied with Marcus’s assessment, I turned back to follow Monk into the now-open vault.

Or him.

Monk shot a look over his shoulder from where he stood in the center of the vault’s opening. “Good news,” he said. “The LIGHT is right in front of me.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I started forward, my nervous excitement bursting in my chest. The whole ordeal in San Francisco thus far started to fade away in the brightness of this stroke of luck. I wouldn’t allow myself to hope that it was all worth it now, but it was a start.

Then Monk stepped aside, and the house of cards on which I’d built my hope came crashing down again.

That was when I saw her.

If nothing else, at least he hadn’t exaggerated her height. She was even taller than the redhead I’d killed at Namiko’s house—and infinitely more striking. Dark hair cascaded down her back in a torrent, framing a face adorned with ruby-red lips and soft, hypnotizing eyes. The kind of face I could have stared at forever. The white dress flowed around her like it was liquid, pooling at her feet.

I stopped dead in my tracks, semi-aware that my jaw was in the process of unhinging itself. The logical part of my brain told me she had to be another hallucination. There was no way she could be real.

She put her hand on Monk’s shoulder, its weight creasing the fabric of his shirt. He looked up at her and slipped from her grasp, moving deeper into the vault. Her eyes settled on me then and turned me into a straight-up window. The red lips curved upward.

“So,” she said. “We meet at last, slayer of beauty. Do you know who I am?”

Just like Delano’s misty stare had left me powerless the first time I saw him, her voice stole the air from my lungs. All I could do was nod wordlessly, standing dumbstruck in front of her. No part of my body worked until she beckoned me forward, giving me permission to move.

“Don’t be shy,” she said. “I won’t bite... unless you want me to.”

Shy or not, I had no choice. The woman was like a magnet, and she clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. I wanted to ask Marcus what the hell was going on, but I suspected that every thought I had was an open book for her. And I’d already gotten the poor dude killed; I didn’t want to get him exorcised, too.

“Tsk, tsk.” She backed up as the distance closed, drawing me along with her into the vault. “There is nothing you can hide from me.” Her finger drew its way over the neckline of my shirt, brushing aside a loose strand of hair. “I know all about your beloved stowaway, but you don’t have to worry. He can’t help you now anyway.” Suddenly seizing the medallion’s chain in her fist, she tore it from my neck and tossed it away. “Let me free you from your burdens, Victoria. All of them.”

I flinched, already feeling the flesh bruising at the back of my neck where the chain had dug in. Her hand came back toward me to caress my face. The pad of her thumb ran over my lips. “Do you want your voice back, my newest love?” she murmured.

My skin crawled. Mythical powers of attraction or not, something about this woman’s touch repulsed me despite my inability to resist it. It was clear she knew that—and enjoyed it immensely. I pressed my lips into a grim line and tried to pull away. One syllable dropped off my tongue. “No.”

She arched her eyebrows. “No? Then you must want me to rip that pretty tongue of yours right out of your mouth.” She laughed, teeth flashing. “I know your mind is troubled. You have been polluted by the influence of Kronin’s lackey soldier. Forget him. He is nothing. And Kronin is gone.” Her ample breasts hovered in front of my face as she leaned in toward me. “I am all you need.”

Her hand snaked behind my head, fingers plunging into my hair, and she pulled me against her like a fly in her web.

All my senses filled with her scent, her touch, and the lusty beat of her heart inside her chest. She overwhelmed me, leaking into every facet of my being. Marcus had called it brainwashing, but this was a bigger experience than that. My will was being smothered out of existence.

The one word I’d managed to speak came back to me with the intensity of a lightning strike. I forced my mouth to open, even though she had me pinned against the razor-sharp definition of her clavicle.

“No,” I mumbled again. More energy gathered behind it. “No. No!” I threw my head back. Her grip faltered. “No!”

She released me, her gaze colored by a mix of surprise and bitter offense. “Well, well. It’s been a long time since I last encountered a will like this. You’re lucky I enjoy a challenge.” Again, her thumb touched my mouth, the nail digging not-so-gently into the flesh. “But I would very much appreciate it if you learned another word.” Her grip tightened abruptly on my chin, the bones crushing the sides of my jaw. The bitch was elegant, but she held on like a vise. “Say my name.”

I stayed silent. The goddess, if that was really what she was, applied more pressure. As a counterpoint, I clenched my teeth, making sure she felt the resistance. Her eyes turned cold and cruel. “I can play your silly little games for eternity, street harlot. You dare display such flagrant hubris before me? I will make you kneel.” She dropped my chin and turned away.

My tongue moved in my mouth, working to gain back its independence. When Eve had almost charmed me into giving away the Gladius Solis, it was because she made me see her side of things. She’d made me share her desires.

Lysiani wasn’t doing that for me. There was too dark an edge of inhumanity beneath her perfect exterior, boiling just beneath the surface.

I’d seen far too much of that already, far too close to home. No matter how she tried, nothing could cover it up.

“Perhaps,” she began, feigning an air of contrite boredom, “I should learn from you and exercise a rare hint of humility. Let me take a step back and explain my reasoning. I should not have expected you to understand the motives of a queen.” She circled around me, approaching slyly from the back, a predator I could feel but not see. “Doubtless you have heard from my sisters how we aspire to change this wretched place for the better. From good and evil, we will create Eden.

“However, not everyone shares our vision of harmony for the future.” She ran a hand through her gleaming hair, letting it cascade across her shoulders. “Gods are brutish beings, my love. A foul lot. Sometimes, they must be corrected. And sometimes, that correction must come through force.”

“Kronin,” I whispered.

Lysiani’s glance was full of knives. “Oh, child. Your delusions fill me with sadness. I only wish I had reached you before that sniveling armored servant. Kronin was a tyrant who only sought to secure power for himself. He saw no distinction between a queen’s great vision and the heinous machinations of demons. None of us mattered to him, you see? He loved humanity above all else. And ultimately, it was his failure that sealed your fate. It takes a stronger love than he had to offer. A mother’s love, that knows when to bless—and when to punish.”

She paced a few feet away from me, gesticulating with her slender hands. “I have spent more time than is necessary or fair contemplating how Kronin came to be blessed with the Gladius Solis. For all the time during which he ruled from cursed Carcerum, the odds have been stacked against those of us who were considered lesser than the hero-king. Now, at last, we have a chance to make things right.”

She stopped pacing, swooped in, and grasped my face in her talons, digging tracks in the skin of my cheeks. “You are chosen to bear witness to the final delivery of justice.”

Monk’s voice emerged from behind her. “Your Majesty, the LIGHT is ready.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you, my beautiful gift from the cosmos.” She touched Monk’s cheek, and a crimson bloom erupted beneath her fingers. A goofy grin spread across his face. She was the world to him. There was nothing else. “Let us show our guest the future.”

Monk strutted to the center of the room where the drill, now free of its protective glass case, sat embedded in a square pedestal. His smile widened as he reached out and thumbed a heavily wired button in the base. A low frequency permeated everything. The air seemed to vibrate around every solid object in the room.

“I want no part of your future,” I said. My voice was stronger now, more demanding. It caught Lysiani’s attention right away

“You poor thing.” She pressed her lush lips to my forehead, the tender, kind façade back in place. “I have been brutish to you, haven’t I? I have stooped to the very level I condemn. For that hypocrisy, I must offer atonement. Be free.”

Her hold lifted from me. I stumbled under my own weight but caught myself before my knees hit the floor. Lysiani stood over me, her face shadowed. Behind her, the drill’s core was glowing. The room blazed in high contrasts, a sterile hell lit by destruction.

“It won’t save you,” I said. “The drill isn’t enough to beat all the other gods. They will tear you down. If I don’t do it first.”

Lysiani gazed at me inscrutably. Her eyes were made dark from the harsh glow of the drill; bottomless hungry pits. “This is why I have not killed you,” she said softly. “This is why I have allowed you and the sword, which is not even yours, to carve through members of my tribe. This is why I met you here instead of simply absconding with this jewel of destruction.” She licked her lips. “Because I want you for my own.”

I backed away toward the curving wall of the vault. At first, Lysiani stayed where she was, but when I strayed too far from her reach and too close to the drill, she began to prowl after me. I could feel my free will returning with greater and greater presence as the remnants of her touch released their hold on me. Monk could be enraptured by a harpy’s gaze alone. Not me. Not anymore. Fuck that.

“I would die before I joined you, monster,” I said.

“Then you will. And what a senseless waste of potential it will be. You could become the greatest Apprenti ever created. Victoria, the demigoddess who utilizes her omniscient power to infuse whole galaxies with gracious compassion. I offer you the solution to all strife, all violence, all war. But you would rather die.”

I scoffed. “It doesn’t work like that. Trust me, I’ve been carving a path of vengeance across New York City for half a decade, and you know what? My parents are still dead.”

“Ah, but so is their killer, isn’t he?” Lysiani eyed me keenly. “As I am sure you have long since deduced on your own, Lorcan’s abominations came to the west coast. They were sent to infiltrate us, to pilfer what data they could on our weapon. Instead, they died. Well, at least the ones who were sent.”

“So much for harmony, huh?”

“Of course not. A being which cannot exist in harmony with others may be justifiably eliminated. Lorcan’s feckless minions conducted all their business by means of blood and violence, and in the end, we were forced to reciprocate.” The goddess shrugged. “Unsurprising, if you ask me. The Apprenti Delano is his only half-decent servant. Now that one could be something, if he would only step out of Lorcan’s shadow. But I digress.”

She lifted her chin. “The natural order always wins out in the end. Your parents are dead, but they can only die once. The vampires can kill again and again and again. How many lives like those of your parents have you saved with each vampire you destroyed? Surely, the number is countless.”

I wanted to recoil, to keep putting distance between us, but she had struck on the one line of reasoning that had comforted me through all of this madness. The notion of justice was one I had clung to for so long that it became my only truth.

Yes, there were casualties in this fight. Yes, some damage was collateral. But at the end of the day, I was saving lives. And if that were extrapolated to the level of a goddess, maybe Lysiani was right. Maybe I was too small-time to end the cycle of violence enveloping my own mortal life, but risen beyond my limits, there was so much more I could do.

“You have nothing to lose,” Lysiani was saying, “and so much to gain.” She gestured toward the LIGHT drill, now a radiant eye of steadily building energy. “Is that not the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen? If it were yours, you could wield it only as you wish. To protect the weak. To punish the cruel. To heal the myriad wounds on your planet’s once-beautiful face.” Lysiani stepped close. “Imagine it. I beseech you.”

I didn’t trust Lysiani. I doubted I would ever trust her. But if she became my equal and my ally, I could mitigate her mercurial passions, shield worlds of innocents from her wrath.

Wouldn’t that just be fast-tracking me to the end of the mission I had been given? What better way to stop the war from happening than to become a key player in its development? Having been an exceptionally stubborn human, I could stand my ground no problem. Plus, I had the Gladius Solis on my side.

I felt dizzy at the thoughts running through my head, thoughts that didn’t feel like my own. Mercurial passions? I didn’t even know what that meant. Still, I couldn’t shake the notion that joining her was the only path forward. I just had to kneel before her.

I almost did, but then my foot came down on an object that warmed the sole through the bottom of my boot. Jolted from a near fugue state, I glanced down and saw a golden aura battling with the bluish shine of the drill.

“Don’t you dare,” Lysiani hissed. She’d recognized the medallion, too, and her rage seethed to the surface.

In one swift motion, I bent down and snatched the length of chain from the floor. As soon as the gold touched my skin, Marcus erupted in my ear.

Fight, Victoria! Resist her!

Lysiani beckoned to me. “We are so close, Victoria. So close. You would forsake all potential for nothing?”

My eyes met the harpy queen’s one more time. “Don’t fucking call me Victoria.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I am a goddess! I will call you whatever I please.” Her expression hardened into a mask of wrath and vengeance. She jerked her hand away from me, baring her teeth with in a sneer. Backed by the bright, burning light of the drill, her beauty, still great, became terrible.

“I’m going to make this very clear to you,” I said calmly. The storm in my mind and heart was gone, replaced by a calmness that came from strength of purpose. “Call me Victoria again and I’ll carve you like a Christmas goose.”

“Insolent whelp!” Lysiani raised the point of her chin. “I would love to see you try.”

I summoned Kronin’s blade so close to her face that its sudden blast of heat rippled the hair away from her skin. She gasped and flinched backward.

“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you scared?”

Her eyes burned with undisguised hatred. “Let this be a lesson to you, ungrateful human swine. Everything I have was yours to take, yours to conquer. Now I have no choice but to follow through on the philosophy I foolishly believed you’d understand. All sources of imbalance must be eliminated.”

Mimicking her stance and her previous challenge, I answered, “I would love to see you try.”

She snarled. “As you wish.” Bracing myself for a screeching charge, I was a little surprised to see her step back. She held her arms out and dropped gracefully to her knees. Her lustrous hair fell over her face in a shining curtain. Had I not known how much she wanted to kill me, I might have thought she was an angel. The wings that burst from her back told a different story.

They curled around her like a shield of dove-grey feathers, their tips brushing the floor. Judging by the show she made of her extra appendages, air combat was Lysiani’s specialty. Sure enough, instead of simply standing back up, she launched herself up toward the ceiling. Her wings snapped open like the arms of a kite.

“Bring it, you crazy bitch,” I called out, holding up my flaming sword. “I’ll turn your feathered ass into fried chicken.”

She banked to the left and sped toward me, setting up for a fly-by. I steadied myself, knowing that I had to get her in close to me if I wanted to make good on my threats.

She came at me like a ballistic missile, her huge wings set to dive. I swung my sword, but I mistimed my strike. She moved too fast. My mistake left my flank open, and the rake of her talons along my ribs nearly dragged me off my feet.

“Bird bitch!” I shouted, mostly to mitigate the spread of white-hot pain that came a moment after she struck. Whirling around to track her, I held the Gladius Solis high and horizontal, like a samurai’s blade.

She rushed at me again and again with remarkable speed.

Lysiani was a force unlike any I had known. Even the harpies were little more than pigeons compared to the eagle-like ferocity with which she cut through the air.

So, it was time to even the playing field.

“Let’s finish this!” I taunted.

The woman screeched with fury and plummeted toward me. I waited for my moment, then as Lysiani went streaming by, I sidestepped her trajectory and slashed to the side. A cloud of feathers exploded along the sword’s cutting edge.

The goddess wavered in the air, shrieking with rage. She’d intended to pull up after buzzing me, but the hit on her wing devastated her balance. I got to watch her crash land on the hard marble floor of the vault, narrowly avoiding the pedestal and the drill.

Now that she was no longer fully in control of the LIGHT, she seemed to fear it. It was a weakness I intended to exploit to the fullest. As she struggled to regain her feet, I ignored her in favor of a closer inspection of the pedestal and the drill, as much as I could manage with all the glowing.

“This doesn’t look very sturdy,” I remarked. I swung my sword casually at the pedestal, taking a large chunk out of the base. The drill teetered slightly.

“Don’t touch it, you fool!” Lysiani’s voice was shrill with tension and unspent rage. She readjusted her wings, and I saw that one of them was now missing a fair chunk of its feathers. “You are ignorant of its strength. Step away.”

“Like this?” I pushed the sword in deeper.

The harpy goddess’s eyes widened. “Step away!” There was no hiding the panic in her voice. “One mistake, and we will all be killed!”

“That’s funny.” I put out a hand and touched the surface of the pedestal. It thrummed with energy buildup. “Too bad I’m only human. We’re very accident prone.”

I gave the platform a gentle shove and the platform bent slightly at the pressure. The drill rocked on its base.

“No!” Lysiani rushed me in a hail of feathers. Her long legs made short work of the enormous vault—I had only a second or two to prepare my attack. She reached to shove me away, and as she did so, I drove the sword deep into the flesh of her upper thigh.

Like always, the blade passed clean through organic material, but I still wrenched it free. Scarring even one part of her body gave me enormous satisfaction. Screaming, she twisted away. More feathers fell in clumps. Her right wing half-dragged along the floor.

“Looks like I just winged you,” I said, grinning. I tailed her as she tried to scuttle away. “I’ll do better this time. You’re going to make one hell of a feather duster when I’m done with you.”

The goddess kicked viciously at me, aiming to tear at my legs with her spiked heels. I planted Kronin’s sword deep in the center of the injured wing. Her long body went rigid with the pain. When I took the sword out, she fell back, gasping.

“It is the sword, not you. You are nothing.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s your best move? Trying to hurt my feelings? Take that baby shit back to Sesame Street, Big Bird. Or Hell. Or wherever punk-ass gods go when they die.” Taking the time to line up my shot, I reared back to throw the Gladius Solis. This monster, more than all the others before, needed to stay down.

A familiar, two-part racking sound was what stopped me.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” said Silas Monk. He held a twelve-gauge shotgun, and although it was certainly nothing to scoff at, I could tell by the way the barrel weaved that his grip was amateur and unsteady. Too bad with a shotgun, he barely needed to aim to shred me to pieces. “I don’t want to shoot you.”

“Shoot her!” Lysiani commanded. “By order of your Goddess Queen, shoot her!”

Hesitantly, Monk raised the gun. His thumb wavered on the safety for a minute until I heard it click off. Unwilling to risk waiting another second, I grabbed the chunk of metal I had cut from the drill-base and hurled it overhand at him.

He flinched at the same time that he fired, driving the shot wide. I was too focused on him to notice Lysiani had gotten up behind me. She sank her claws into my shoulders and took flight on her jacked-up wings.

My shoulders were in agony. “Oh, you tricky bitch,” I hollered. “Put me down, or I’ll stuff this sword so far up your ass, you’ll think you’re a Thanksgiving turkey.”

When that failed to get a response, I started hacking one-handed at any part of her that I could reach. But she was healing; I felt the magic working beneath her skin. Even the burns from Kronin’s blade dissolved quickly into new flesh.

I was losing the upper hand fast. I tried not to let myself panic, but I knew if I let her get back to full strength, she would likely finish me then and there. Down below, the LIGHT drill still sat collecting energy.

That was the last trick up my sleeve.

As she flew higher, I reached up with one hand and grabbed ahold of Lysiani’s robe. Then I stabbed upward with the sword, attacking the arms that held me.

She screamed as she released me from her grasp, but I kept my grip on her robe.

The pain of my attack and the sudden shift in weight threw her off balance. We began to plummet toward the floor.

As we fell, she lashed out at me and I at her. We tumbled together, a blur of fire and fury. There were only seconds to prepare. With all my strength, I pulled, trying to get on top of her, keeping her body between me and the drill that was waiting for us down below.

I barely felt the explosion when we hit. One second, I was hanging onto Lysiani for dear life, and the next, I was flying through the air, the world spinning around me. My back struck the wall with a resounding thud. There was a moment of ringing calm. Right after that, the wall I’d hit crumbled on top of me.

The silence under the debris was curiously muted, not unlike being underwater. I could still breathe, but my legs were pinned and so was half my torso. The Gladius Solis was buried in my right hand. I was terrifyingly stuck.

Do not panic, Victoria. Call on your sword.

In the heat of the fight, I’d forgotten about Marcus. His voice calmed me and stopped my heart from hammering out of my chest.

A breath in, a breath out.

The blade.

It obliterated the rocks above it immediately. I used the tip to carve a doorway out of the debris. The air that rushed in was dusty, tinted with hints of chemicals and burning plastic. I freed my arms, planted them on the floor, and heaved my way out of the concrete prison.

The vault was a mess. Where the pedestal with the drill had stood, there was only a blackened square surrounded by the blast pattern of the explosion. Most of the walls were missing chunks and marred by soot and ashes. I wondered vaguely if Monk was okay.

No immediate signs of him surfaced, but, of course, Lysiani burst from a fortification of rubble the moment she heard me. Debris turned into shrapnel from the sheer force of her entrance. I shielded my head.

“You.” She glowered as if this had been solely my fault. “Where is Monk?” A long arm snaked in a flash toward my throat, but I caught her wrist just in time. The tendons flexed beneath her skin as she strained to overpower me, her hand inching closer to its goal.

I bore down.

“Hell if I know. I didn’t see him before we all got blown sky-high.” I smirked. “Are you just now realizing how fucked you are if he’s dead? You don’t know how any of his shit actually works, do you?”

Her talons swiped for my heart. I struck back with the flat of my sword. The blow knocked her to the side, sending her unbalanced ass to the floor. When she fanned her wings up, thrashing, the wall of wind beat me backward with a force that took me by surprise. The gale wasn’t enough to prevent me from severing her flight feathers, consigning her to the ground. This did not make those wings as useless as I hoped. She flapped them at me with the fury of a thousand storms, hurling curses from between her teeth. The wind rose to a whining howl.

“The strength is the sword’s,” she seethed again. Her words cut through the rushing air. “Not yours. Never yours!”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. It doesn’t seem to matter, does it?” Gripping the hilt overhand, I pushed forward and gouged out a slash in each wing, so large that I knew she’d be grounded for good—and maybe she’d stop calling up a damn tornado every second. She screeched. Her fierce rhythm faltered.

But she still managed to club me in the head with the bony top ridge of a wing. I reeled back, dazed as she made her escape. Both wings dragged limply behind her.

I climbed to my feet, ready to finish this thing, when a weak voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Help,” Monk whimpered. “Please.”

I turned to see the scientist in the firm grasp of a certain sun-glassed man in black.

A knife bit at the soft skin of Monk’s throat.

Brax pressed down on the knife until a thin rivulet of blood trickled from its underside. “Yes,” he said a little smugly. “I think our friend here really needs it.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“We’re definitely not friends, Abraxzael,” I said. “I need Monk alive, and if you’re not going to cooperate, then we’ve got problems.”

He seemed so taken aback by the use of his real name that he almost dropped Monk straight to the floor. The mirrored sunglasses focused intently on me. “So, you finally found me out. I have to say, that takes a certain amount of guts. Most people don’t have ‘em.”

I smirked. “I got ‘em for days, man. Which means I’m not going anywhere. You’re not taking Monk out of my sight.”

“I’ll make a deal with you. Drop the sword, and I’ll consider letting this puny man go.”

“Not gonna happen.”

He shrugged. “Then we’re at an impasse.”

“Don’t I get a say in all this,” Monk whimpered.

We both glared at him and shouted, “Shut up,” simultaneously.

Victoria, what are you going to do?

“I don’t know,” I muttered under my breath.

“Ah,” Brax said with a smile. “Talking to your invisible friend again? I’m sure he’s the one who told you all about me. Brax the Betrayer, Criminal from Hell, or some shit like that. Kronin’s lapdogs always have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Says the guy in a trench coat and aviators.”

He nodded. “Touche.”

“And he told me that you’re the lapdog. Let me guess, Lorcan sent you here, right? I thought the Marked hated the gods. I thought you fought a war just to free yourselves from them. Why the hell would you serve them now?”

“I’m what your people call a demon... we’re not exactly known for our loyalty. My services simply go to the highest bidder, and I’m the best in the business. So they generally bid very high.”

He flashed me a wide toothy grin. His yellow teeth were like small bricks. But there was something about what he said—or rather how he said it that didn’t sit right with me. I’d been dealing with deception and manipulation all week, and I wasn’t buying it.

“You’re lying.”

“What?” he growled. His smile froze and became menacing.

I stood up straighter, lowering the sword by a couple inches. “It’s all a lie. You, parading around like some cold-blooded mercenary, but I don’t believe it. You’re nothing more than a pawn in this, aren’t you? What’s Lorcan got over you?”

Brax opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, and then his shoulders relaxed. Letting go of Monk with one hand, he pulled down the collar of his shirt to show the very beginning of the chain tattoo I’d glimpsed before.

“I’m Marked,” he said simply. “If you knew my name, you knew that already. You may not know that because of the brand, the Marked are essentially enslaved by the gods. We do what they say, or they send us back to Hell.” His smile was grim. “And I’m not going back to Hell. Monk here is my ticket out.”

“You guys gonna swap places? I don’t think that’s how the fairytale is supposed to go.”

“Originally, I was supposed to bring back the weapon. But since the LIGHT seems to have gone the way of old broken things, I’ll have to bring Monk back to build a new one.”

“You… you can’t just bring the pieces?” The trace of hope in Monk’s voice was as sad as it was adorable.

“Not if you’re the only one who knows how to put them together,” Brax said. “Lorcan isn’t into his own arts and crafts.”

The name Lorcan perked my ears up. I was glad my bluff worked. Knowing now that Lysiani had slaughtered the majority of his vamps, the rat was probably in hiding, biding his time until he could figure out a next move.

“So you are working for Lorcan?” I asked.

Brax chuckled dryly. “Who isn’t? Guy never does his own dirty work. Most of the gods, they were as surprised by old Kronin’s death as he was. But Lorcan, he’s a crafty son of a bitch. He’s been planning this return from the beginning. This world will bow beneath him.”

“Not if I can stop it first. You could help me.”

Brax’s laughter boomed throughout the ruined room. “You think because you got a few good licks in against that winged bitch that you can take Lorcan? There’s not a god alive that holds a candle to what he can do. And if you think I’m going to get on his bad side, you’re as crazy as those harpies.”

“Better to die fighting than live as a coward.”

Brax’s large upper lip rose in a sneer. “Better to live as a coward than spend eternity in Hell. Trust me, princess. You don’t know what you’re up against.” He lowered the knife and wrapped his arm around Monk’s neck. Then he started dragging the small man backward. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a job to finish.”

“Like hell you do!” The high-pitched scream came from the across the room. All three of us looked in that direction, just in time to see a woman in a red dress pick up Monk’s shotgun. I knew her instantly, despite the new, angry scarring over one side of her face.

What was she doing here?

“Eve?” Monk’s voice was soft and stricken with horror. “What happened to you?”

She turned on him. “You know exactly what happened. And so do you!” This last part was directed at Brax as she turned the weapon toward them. “Why wouldn’t I be here? Someone needs to pay for everything I’ve lost. You’re the only one who seems to have the money.” The shotgun cocked. “So, pay up.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Monk held his hands up. “Let’s not get crazy here. I’m sorry about your face, Eve, but I don’t owe you reparations. He’s the one who broke into the hotel room with a flaming hammer.”

“And yet, I’m not the one she wants to kill,” Brax noted.

The whole scene was weird, to say the least. Whatever I had expected out of this last encounter, pseudo-family drama was not it. I almost felt like I should leave until they sorted it out, but then Eve exploded and drew us all in.

“It’s his fault,” she said, pointing a shaking finger at Monk. “Because he’s the one who built the drill. He’s the one who caught Lysiani’s attention and made her give me away so I could keep him on our side. And he’s the one who abandoned me like trash after I was ruined!” Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. “I did everything for you, Silas Monk! I taught you how to dress, how to talk. I helped you facilitate the last phases of production. I found investors. I made sure your dreams came true! And this is how I get repaid.” She sniffled, on the brink of another breakdown.

“What?” I interrupted, confused. “You deserve a fresh start? After all the shit we’ve gone through here because of you? Call me crazy, but I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

Eve broke down into slightly hysterical laughter that took all emotion out of her face when it subsided. “No. There’s no starting over for me. It’s too late.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The red dress flicked around Eve’s feet as she paced the vault with a manic glint in her eye. She was the same woman I had seen at Monk’s side during the gala event at SF Tech only a few days ago, but she wasn’t that woman at all.

The burn scars reminded me of Rocco, but even beyond that, something had changed in her. Where she had been smug and self-satisfied, supremely confident in her own ability, now she was raging at a world that had failed her.

“Once upon a time, I was a beauty queen of great renown. World renown. Every week, it was somewhere different, somewhere new and exotic to explore. And everywhere I went, I had fans. People flocked to see me on the stage. They recognized me in the streets. Men fell over each other to buy me gifts, to be with me.”

A real smile bloomed on her face as she described them, and she spun in blissful circles around the ruined vault like she was back on one of those stages. I kept my eyes on the shotgun, which pointed in my direction at the apex of every spin.

Eve’s movements were too erratic to make a move on her. I had to hang back and keep my eye out for an opportunity to save Monk and myself. When the time came, Brax would be on his own.

Eve slowed, and the smile fell away. The lines around her eyes and face seemed to redraw themselves deeper than before.

“But it couldn’t last,” she said. “The days came and went, and that thrilling lifeblood stopped pumping through my veins. I aged out of the competition arena, losing my spot to younger, more vital girls. No one recognized me anymore, or if they did, it was fleeting. I haunted conversations in past tense: ‘the girl who was.’ My whole life was built on sand in the hourglass, and it all crumbled slowly away.”

Her hands clenched tightly around the shotgun. I cringed, half expecting it to go off. Luckily, this crazy harpy still had enough sense in her charbroiled head to keep her finger off the trigger. Still, she was really taking advantage of her captive audience with this long confession. I racked my brain for a way to overpower her, if for no other reason than to put an end to this pathetic display.

“I got lonely,” Eve continued. “Then, I got angry, and then I just got damn sad.” An inscrutable expression passed over her face like a cloud. “Then I found Lysiani. Or rather, she found me.”

“And you sold your body to her, just so you could look pretty again?” I shook my head. “Lady, you were messed up before you ever became a harpy.”

Eve took a long time to answer that one. “It’s more than my body. She asked for my soul. And I gladly gave it to her. Then, she made me beautiful.” She faltered. “I gave up my soul for this. Now I’m nothing.” Tears streamed unchecked down her cheeks, dripping off the scarred line of her lower jaw. She pointed the shotgun at Monk. “Do you know what that means, Silas? To have your life snuffed away in an instant? You’re about to.”

Monk backed off, sort of ducking behind Brax for protection. Brax just eyed the woman in red with a close cynicism.

“Eve, wait,” I said, hoping to keep the shotgun from going off. Monk was still right there. Right in the line of fire.

“I’ve waited long enough.”

The gun roared and threw her backward. Brax covered Silas Monk with the broad shelter of his body before buckling over at the waist amid a spray of blood. This was the chance I’d been waiting for. I sprang toward her, tackling the weapon out of her hands. She fell to the side, and it clattered between us. I kicked it out of her reach as her long fingers scrabbled for a hold.

“That was the wrong choice, Eve,” I said.

The skin on her face was sagging, spidering over with blotches and veins. The wings that sprouted from her shoulders were rumpled and dull, but I knew better than to be fooled by her body’s state of disrepair. The sunken eyes in her skull glinted with malice.

“It’s over,” I told her. “Just let go.”

She lunged at me, making a high, keening wail. I caught her, and her wings beat in my face. With pure strength, I threw her over my shoulder where she landed in a rough heap, struggling to get back up. I didn’t want to fight close quarters with her, but she refused to allow distance between us. Locked in a grapple on the floor, she seized my sword, and it flew backward over her head.

“Dammit,” I shouted.

Eve produced an impish smile that didn’t belong to her new, tired face. She curled her legs between us and kicked, forcing me off of her. She jumped to her feet, but I was faster than her, and I grabbed her wing by the stem, jerking her backward. She fell hard against the marble floor. The crack of bone rang out like a shot. Ahead, I saw the outline of the hilt she’d wrestled away from me.

Her smile was weak this time, lopsided. The words that left her mouth slurred together. “Can’t blame me for trying, can you?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Actually, I can.” I stood over her, my foot on her chest.

Her bedraggled form slumped down into the floor. I almost didn’t hear the reply.

“They loved me. They all loved me.”

With her last ounce of venom, she tried to fake me out and bring me down on top of her outstretched claws.

My hand shot out in the direction of the fallen hilt. “Gladius Solis!”

The sword rocketed into my hand. I summoned the blade just in time to block the ragged points of her nails. The heat grew blisters on her papery skin.

Eve bared her teeth, but it was just a formality now. The sword cast her features in a fiery glow as the blade disappeared through her chest. She looked incongruously fragile from this angle, little more than an old woman clothed in the red trappings of beauty. Her pale eyes went wide, she drew one final, heaving breath, and then was still.

There was no triumph in her death. Only emptiness.

When I turned around, I realized why.

Eve’s last shotgun blast had torn straight through Brax and caught Silas Monk in the chest. Monk still lay where he’d fallen. His eyes were fixed and staring, and the wound in his torso was unsurvivable. I walked over and placed my hand on his neck. He was already getting cold. A pool of blood coagulated around him, and as I rose to my feet, I thought that at least he wouldn’t have to deal with the cleanup.

But where was Brax? An ominous silence reigned in the vault. I stayed where I was, listening for any sign of the missing Marked. His blood was still pooled with Monk’s, but only the inventor had died here.

Be cautious, Marcus advised. The Marked are extremely difficult to kill. If Abraxzael’s corpse is missing, he is still alive.

“Hey, Marcus. Can I ask you something?”

Anything, as long as you are all right.

I sat back on my heels, emptying the air from my lungs.

“Do you ever have something positive to say?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Back in New York, I sat on the mattress in my loft and read the newspaper headline: TECH GURU SILAS MONK FOUND DEAD.

I didn’t want to look at it, but my eyes couldn’t stay away from either the words or the full-color photograph underneath them. He was beaming in it, obviously on the red carpet of some big event, and I kept wondering if he had known Eve when the picture was taken. Was that the real Silas Monk, or the one she had built with false confidence and black magic?

Maybe it didn’t really make a difference in the end, but it sort of did to me. I wanted to believe that a person who gifted so much amazing shit to the world needed the influence of a harpy to end up dead in the middle of his own dream come true. I wanted to believe that because Silas Monk didn’t deserve to die.

Not everything was a loss. I had made a friend and an ally in Namiko. We had parted ways with brief goodbyes, but I had a feeling that it wasn’t the last time I would hear from her—or her from me. SplitScreen, as I first knew her, had plenty of connections that I guessed might come in handy soon enough.

But I was still pissed about losing the drill. “That was our trump card,” I complained to Marcus one afternoon a few days after. “It would have been cool if we could’ve used it.”

It seemed right to be able to honor Silas’s legacy by shooting a huge-ass laser at the next crop of monsters. Something told me he would have approved.

We do not need another ‘trump card’ when we have you.

Those kinds of compliments never failed to make me smile. Call it juvenile, but I loved the idea of being any kind of secret weapon, let alone a secret weapon against the gods. And the more I got myself into hotter and hotter water, the more it seemed like an apt description.

“I guess I did kick a goddess’s ass,” I said, exuding modesty from my very pores. “It was pretty easy.” In my head, I was brushing off my shoulders, but I knew the gesture would be wasted on Marcus.

Do not get ahead of yourself, Marcus said. I could hear the smile in his voice, even though he didn’t have lips or a face. There are gods, and then there are gods. Lysiani ranks fairly low on that list.

“Great.” The cat hopped into my lap and started shouting her hunger, so I got up to take care of it, relieved to have something mundane to do. “Just when I was starting to feel good about myself.”

As you should. Celebrate your victories. I only seek to prepare you for the greater threats awaiting you. Although when the time comes to face them, I have no doubt you will be fully prepared for the ordeal.

“Yeah, you’re right.” I grinned. “I guess I am pretty much a badass.” I put some dry kibble into the cat’s bowl and set it on the floor for her. “Can we finally talk about this Brax guy, though? You’ve been sketchy about him ever since he showed up.”

The Marked are dangerous and untrustworthy, Marcus said, as he had every time I brought it up. I have no doubt that he still lives. Perhaps he just feels you may still be of use to him somewhere down the line.

I reached into the fridge and poured myself a glass of juice. The beer bottles on the bottom shelf always tempted me, but recent events had me wanting to run my ship a little tighter.

Monk was the first real, personal casualty in my new life, and I’d be lying if I said it didn’t freak me out a little. It was a grim reminder of what I was up against, and now, I was searching for all the specks of light I could possibly find in the darkness. Including the ones with chain tattoos all over their bodies.

“I’m just saying, he didn’t seem like a bloodthirsty warmonger to me. Definitely a guy who’s willing and able to skew ethics in order to get shit done, but let’s be real—that’s me, too. That’s probably a lot of people.”

That is true, but it is worth noting that the Marked were not created with ethics at the forefront in terms of priorities. If they are not perfect slaves willing to execute their god’s most brutal orders, then they are consumed with the fires of self-righteous vengeance and do not think beyond their own gratification.

“Again, you’ve basically just described me in the early years of my vendetta against Rocco Durant,” I said. “I see the point you’re making, Marcus. I really do. But sometimes people become that way for reasons that aren’t automatically apparent. There might be more to Brax than what you think about him. That’s all I’m saying.”

You may be correct about that. However, I lack information in which to put my faith. It seems to be that many of the Forgotten did not receive the same kinds of sensitization which humankind’s theoretical Creator has provided us.

“Marcus, are you monster-racist?” It was rude to poke fun at something that made him so serious, but I just couldn’t let it slide. “Come on, I’m sure there are nice vampires out there. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”

I said many; I did not say all. My ogre acquaintance at the club we attended is a prototypical example of creatures in his class. There are always exceptions, but they are few and far between. Even more so lately, it seems.

“You don’t think the Marked, as a race, are exceptions? Seems like that’s exactly what they were made to be.”

He thought about that one for a while. Your mind continues to surprise me, Victoria. I confess I had never considered the question from that angle before.

“Don’t say I never taught you anything.” I took a sip of my juice. “You think he’ll really be back?”

Abraxzael? I have no doubt your paths will cross again. It is evident that you have captured his interest for whatever reasons he may have.

“Maybe he’s lonely,” I suggested.

He was made to be lonely.

“Wow, okay. Now I want you guys to meet in person, just so I can see you fight.”

No. That means someone else would receive the honor of killing him in order to let him face me.

I had never seen Marcus carrying a chip on his shoulder, let alone one against a semi-demon slave warrior. Whatever history lay beneath that, I desperately wanted to know it. But I also knew not to push Marcus on a sensitive topic. So, I made a mental note to keep an eye out for guys who wore trench coats and sunglasses all the time.

“Hey, Marcus?”

Yes? He knew something criminally stupid was coming. He had to.

“Do you think they all dress like that, or is Brax just the coolest one?”

I just remembered that tomorrow’s training begins at four in the morning.

“Man, I’m just joking around with you. You don’t have to murder me in retaliation.” As I said that, I happened to look over and see Silas Monk’s face on the newspaper. Everything I’d just said suddenly felt irreverent and weird.

Do you wish to attend the funeral?

“Half yes, half no. Maybe a quarter yes, three-quarters no.” I sighed. “I want to go because I was there and because I only sort of knew him. It would be cool to get a bigger picture of who he was. But at the same time, I think the picture might be too big, if that makes sense. Does it mean something if I’m a mourner instead of a friend?” I shrugged. “Maybe that’s a stupid thing to worry about in times like these, but I think about it sometimes when I can’t sleep. And you know what else I think about?”

What?

“How I’m afraid of the way it would look if I went there. Not the way people would look at me—they’re free to think however they want—but I think the way Monk’s funeral would appear to me is like the view from the top of the first hill on a rollercoaster. The moment when you realize the only way from here on out is down.”

Epilogue

Even after all her plans had sunken like a battleship lost at sea, the mansion remained. It was a gift from one of her now fallen angels. Lysiani was grateful for its extravagant comfort as the front door locked behind her. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the hall mirror and recoiled slightly. Her worst fear confirmed: she looked as dreadful as she felt.

It had been so long since she’d felt pain like this—both from physical trauma and from failure. How dare that girl with the god-king’s sword come meddling in the affairs of gods! She would need to be dealt with, as soon as Lysiani’s body was restored. But no sooner. This concession, the goddess had to make.

She flicked on the light and screamed.

Standing in the entrance to the sitting room, Lorcan smiled. “We meet again at last, Lysiani.”

The goddess bared her teeth and talons, lunging for him. “You are not welcome here, you grim court jester!”

Lorcan simply batted her out of midair. She was so little to him, a feather against a storm. He stepped toward her writhing form and knelt upon her chest, bringing his face down close to hers. “Bold of you to call me a jester, fool.” She flinched, which satisfied him immensely. “I need not remind you of your many errors, but as long as I’ve got you here, I figure I might as well. What idiocy it was to try and acquire the LIGHT for yourself. If you would need it to defeat a god like me—and you would—then it is more than you deserve.” His pale eyes narrowed into slits.

“I deserve the world,” she growled. “More than a backstabbing snake like you.”

“You are nothing, Lysiani. Nothing more than a simpleton whose vanity and pride outweigh what little common sense she has. It was a mistake to kill my subjects. A mistake you will sorely regret.”

“How could it have been a mistake if it was so easy?” She smiled thinly. “Look at you, Lorcan. Thinking you’re so high and mighty. The man I see tonight is a far cry from the one I knew so long ago. How strong you were back then. How virile.” She lifted a slender finger to trace the line of his jaw. “And what are you now?”

Lorcan laughed dryly. “As if your tricks would have any effect on me, woman. Have you seen yourself? That little girl and her talking necklace made a mockery of you. I saw the whole thing—the scientist had cameras throughout his lab.” He sighed. “It is all a shame, isn’t it? Not that Silas Monk is dead—I had no real need for him anyway. But Abraxzael. For him, my hopes were high. He was there, you know? Standing over the human’s body as she dispatched with your last pet. He could have crushed her like the insect she is. But instead he just turned around and left. Perhaps he thought I would welch on our deal, but his freedom was waiting if he brought me the sword. Instead, he chooses to run?” An edge of steel hardened his gaze. “A pity.” Then his countenance cleared. “No matter. I shall hunt him down like the animal he is and return him to eternal torment soon enough.”

Lysiani drew a shallow breath. “Is that my fate as well, Lorcan? Or is it the cold embrace of death?”

The god arched his eyebrows at his captive quarry. “Death? No, no, beautiful Lysiani. You are far too valuable to kill. I have great plans for you and your… gifts. But torment?” A Cheshire cat smile spread across Lorcan’s face, contorting his sallow features. “Yes, there will be torment.”

Author Notes - Chris Raymond

March 21, 2018

Dear Fabulous Readers,

Right now, I feel like I am underwater, popping meds for a head cold that has kicked me in the face and is standing over me laughing. But you know what? I’m laughing right back.

Other than the clogged ears and pounding temples, I’m as happy as an author can get, because a few hours ago, Forgotten Gods (Book 1) snatched its first bestseller tag on Amazon and is hanging out with a fistful of five-star reviews!

Take that head cold!

And you know what? It is all because of you, the readers. You are all freaking awesome. Thank you for reading, reviewing, and engaging. It means the world to us!

In my last notes, I told you all that I started writing for an audience of one: my sweet daughter Simone. Even if she was the only person in the world that ever read those quirky books about a bunch of kids stranded mysteriously on an island, every painstaking word I punched out on the keyboard was totally worth it.

And she read them. And then she read them again and again.

Simone came up with the craziest questions about those kids, what happened to them, and how it all would end. We’d lay in her bed at night and discuss our favorite characters, funniest lines, and who she would “ship”. (That’s kid lingo for who she would put together in a relationship. I had to ask.)

Now, years later, I get to write stories for thousands of fans. I chat with some of you about favorite characters, you post funniest lines on Facebook, and some of you ask me, “How will it all end?”

Being a part-time author ain’t easy. I burn the midnight oil. Right now, most of my friends are in bed, binging Netflix, or finishing their second drink at the local bar. And I’m here, at my little table in my quiet kitchen writing to you.

And you know what?

Just like writing for Simone, every painstaking word of these books, every hour of sleep lost, every show not watched, and yes, even every drink not imbibed at the local dive is totally worth it!

Once I’m done with these notes, I’m turning to wrap up edits on Forgotten Gods, book 3. Lee and I (AKA ST Branton) aren’t sure what it’s going to be called yet (hey, we need to get on that, Lee), but the story is pretty great.

Vic is growing in her role as hero, and she finds herself in a new place developing new friendships that will help her conquer another Forgotten God! It is fast paced and superfun, and the only thing it made me wish is that we could create the stories faster. I CAN’T WAIT to see where it all goes.

Speaking of which, I better get to it. The clock is ticking, and the gods are coming!

Cheers,

Chris

Here’s my big PS for this book: Lee and I are becoming pretty prolific as authors, and we have a decent backlist of books as well. If you want to make sure you NEVER miss a release, a giveaway, or one-day fan pricing, please take a minute to sign up for our mailing list.

You can do it here:

https://www.subscribepage.com/chris_and_lee

Author Notes - Lee Barbant

March 20, 2018

So, great news in the Barbant household. Baby Barbant has learned how to stand on his own. It’s an awesome milestone, and stressful as hell. I now have to baby proof my house two feet higher than before. At the rate he’s growing, my top cabinets will be locked down tight by the summer.

I’m a first-time dad, so everytime something like this happens, I freak out a little bit. It’s cliche, I know. I’m the parent from every diaper/laundry/band-aid commercial. It’s just that they change so fast, and I have so little control over when and how it’s going to happen.

Why didn’t anyone tell me that beforehand? You all are supposed to be looking out for me.

When I started writing, I thought I’d have total control over my characters, too. I mean, what are they going to do? Talk back? I CONTROL THE KEYBOARD. SAY NO ONE MORE TIME, AND YOU’LL SPEND ALL OF NEXT BOOK WADING THROUGH A SEWER.

My wife just stopped me to confirm that I don’t discipline Baby Barbant like I do the characters. Of course not, dear ;)

The funny thing is, I have way less control over our fiction than I think. And I’m not just talking about the fact that Chris comes along and deletes all my best one-liners [Did you hear the one about the overworked muffler? It was exhausted!!!]

It’s just that sometimes a story goes in a wildly different direction than you meticulously plan. And that requires pushing your characters in previously unaccounted for directions. And you know what? The story turns out way better for it.

Another thing that helps the story is you all. If it takes a village to raise a child, then it takes a damn country to write a book. I wanted to thank everyone who helped get this project out the door, especially the folks over on the Forgotten Gods Facebook Group. Once I finish these author notes, I’m going to get back to wrapping book 3--which was majorly influenced by discussions happening online.

So, if you’re digging this series, come join us. Well, first go leave an Amazon review, then come join us. You can let us know what you loved and what you hated and what you’re hoping to see in future books. You can help answer the dozens of questions that I have. And you can maybe give me some child rearing advice? Like seriously, the kid is a monster. But the good kind that lets me snuggle him after he’s ripped out half my beard.

Anyway, I’m starting to get mushy and rambly which is a bad combination. Next think you know I’ll be crying over the keyboard talking about that time Chris gave me a bad grade in grad school. Not pretty.

For Kronin!

Lee

Hounded by the Gods

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 3

Prologue

The black forest spread like a shadow up the side of the craggy mountain, which Lupres had claimed as his own. From his vantage point among the thick Northwestern trees, he could see the entire valley bathed in pale light, and he smiled. He never felt more at home than at moments like this when he stood beneath the very seat of his power.

The moon, his throne, was almost full. The time was finally upon him.

Not far from where Lupres kept his nightly vigil, a rushing stream ran over stony banks, winding a silver thread down to the base of the mountain. It fed into a human town nestled in the forest’s embrace, whose twinkling lights were man-made stars against the velvet darkness of night.

How Lupres hated them.

Everything warm and bright reminded him of the prison in which he had spent far too long. The golden halls of Carcerum haunted him still and made the bile rise in the back of his throat. It was nothing more than a false paradise designed to torture those more deserving of power than the so-called hero-king Kronin’s.

Now Carcerum lay in ruins, and Kronin had been slain. And Lupres was free at last to wreak vengeance upon the lesser beings of Earth. Those who survived would be gloriously transformed into the soldiers of his great army. They would begin the purge of this world’s human impurities.

The water ran cold around his legs as he stood in the brook, bronze eyes fixed on the unsuspecting village in the distance. The white eye of the moon fed him its strength—it coursed through his veins like ice and fire.

He was ready to perform the rite.

The sacrificial saber sang a soft tune as Lupres pulled it from the sheath on his belt, catching the baleful glint of the moonbeams on its way into position. His reflection stared up from the flat of it.

The age of oppression had ended.

Now began the age of war.

Lupres filled his lungs with the fresh, cold mountain air, relishing the wild scent. He smelled the humans too, likely asleep in their fragile domains. If he listened hard enough, even their heartbeats filled the stillness of the woods. So weak on their own, but infused with his blood, he could make them unstoppable.

The saber lifted high and gleaming, then swung downward in a swift, merciless arc. Lupres savored the biting pain and the sudden rush of dark blood from his veins. Dropping to his knees on the rocky bed, his threw his head back and basked in the certainty of the future he’d just created. His severed hand fell into the water, spinning away with the current. For a few moments, it flowed shades of scarlet and wine until the persistent beat of the wound faded away.

Breathing heavily, the god drew up his brand-new stump and cradled it as an infant in the crook of his other arm. An edge of white bone protruded from the flesh. The blood was growing thick and sluggish. Below the point of amputation, the thick veins in his forearm had gone almost black, as they always did when some measure of the ancient magic was invoked. He traced those lines with his remaining fingers.

The bloodlines were sacred texts to him.

He read the stories of his people, his subjects, and his empire as they flowed through him, powered by the beating of his indomitable heart. Long before Kronin had taken away his freedom, Lupres had dreamed of claiming a world for his own. Carcerum had meant to quash his cruel ambitions, but it just stoked their flame. Now the images were clearer than ever in his mind of a kingdom over which he would rule with an iron fist.

There was nothing left to stop him.

Fueled by the high of his own ritual sacrifice, Lupres reared up and unleashed his war cry into the depths of the night. His voice rolled down the mountain, through the trunks, and over the jet-black canopy. A ghost of his own fierce howl came back to his ears.

A fair warning of things to come.

He glanced back at his arm as he turned to retreat to his perch near the summit. The healing process had already started; his work was done for now. A smile curled his lips back from glistening teeth. In a matter of hours, the elixir would reach its new vessels. By dawn, panic.

By next nightfall, chaos.

Chapter One

One of the few things worse than fighting monsters was dealing with airports. Even worse than vampires? John F. Kennedy Airport. Part of the problem was that I couldn’t slay any of the annoyances at the airport with my magic sword.

I was bleary-eyed and waiting for the caffeine to kick in—not to mention a little on edge. The night before had been full of last-minute internet trawling for information that might support the incident Namiko told me about.

But still, I couldn’t get the content that my favorite tech-blogger sent me out of my head. “Hey, Marcus,” I murmured, resisting the urge to shield my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights. “What do you think? Conspiracy theory or legitimately shady government shit?”

It is difficult to ascertain either way, but I think it is worth the journey, at least.

“Just to see?” I nodded slowly. “You just want to fly again. You’re becoming quite the fan of modern technology. I should set you up on Twitter.”

All tools are on the table in the war against the gods. Even this “twitter.”

I smiled. “You could do some definite damage there, trust me.”

The question is, why do you seem so hesitant? Do you disagree with this strategy?

A sigh escaped my lips. “I don’t know. I’m just worried this is another bogus lead that will turn out to be nothing. We haven’t found a single new clue since Palo Alto. It’s been, like, a month.”

It had been three weeks almost to the day, but I felt entitled to a little exaggeration. Talk about going from a hundred to zero in the blink of an eye. In those three weeks, I had crisscrossed the country twice, including a stop in Austin for what came on my radar as a possible harpie sighting. It turned out to be just some kinky, underground swingers club.

Keep Austin weird, right?

It wasn’t that I missed being in constant mortal danger, or that I had a ravenous desire to watch more people die. But I was finally settling into my role as a sword-wielding, god-fighting badass, and in some ways, it didn’t seem fair that as soon as I became more or less okay with the whole deal, I had no more bad guys to fight.

This silence is quite conspicuous. I agree. There must be a great shadow on the horizon.

I frowned. “Well, can it hurry up? I thought we were on a schedule here. Or have they forgotten about the inevitable war?”

Marcus chuckled. Whatever happens hereafter, I hope you never lose your sparkling charm, Victoria.

“Nothing’s happening. That’s the problem.” I adjusted the backpack on my shoulder as I followed the sign around to security. “It’s making me nervous.” The winding line for the checkpoint came into view, and I felt myself die a little inside. “Guess I’ll have a while to think about it.”

Always look for the silver lining, my armor-clad friend in the medallion around my neck said helpfully.

“Which is what? Getting to spend more quality time with you?” I was only half-ragging on him. Without Marcus, I would have been lost and alone in this new supernatural fight. He helped ground me when dealing with mythological creatures and gods I’d never even heard of before. As long as he and the sword were with me, I knew I had a chance to stand against this hidden threat and come out on top.

Do not sound so enthusiastic, he quipped. I might think you were becoming immune to my many charms.

That one got a little laugh. I ran my hands through my hair and stood on the tips of my toes to try and see to the end of the line. No dice. A girl somewhere behind me loudly discussed her latest one-night stand. Up ahead, a baby wailed ferociously. I groaned. “Should have stayed in bed.”

Chin up, Victoria. It was most generous of Namiko to provide the funds to secure your passage. The least you can do is honor her gift.

“I know. I know.” I had told Namiko she didn’t have to pay for the plane ticket, but she told me to stop being an asshole and take it. After what happened in Palo Alto, I needed to do my best to keep out of the spotlight for a while, and we both knew it.

“Besides,” she had said, “my dad’s loaded, remember? The least I can do is spread the wealth a little—especially if it’s for the sake of saving the world.”

It was a good point, though I was reasonably sure the whole mess had been swept under the rug after Monk’s funeral. My daily scouring of Mac’s newspaper stand produced no mention of either Silicon Valley or San Francisco, apart from speculative stories on the state of the industry after the death of its brightest star.

No harpies, no vampires, no nine-foot-tall goddess.

News about the ongoing supernatural conflict sure had a way of disappearing, which was why we couldn’t completely discount Namiko’s findings. The case seemed, on the surface, like nothing more than one of those ghost stories circulating through the weirder parts of the internet.

A remote town in the woods of northern Washington caught some kind of strange plague, some of the townsfolk had gone missing, and then apparently, the Feds came in and shut everything down. Radio silence ever since.

Deacon might know more information than the couple articles Namiko had dug up, but I didn’t want to push my luck with him. And I didn’t want him to know I was heading back out west after the California catastrophe. He would never let me hear the end of it.

No one knew about this little trip except me, Marcus, and Namiko, and I wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Experience had taught me that information had a way of getting around, and I promised myself to be extra careful this time. Lay low, stay quiet, level up my stealth. That was the plan.

I really hoped I could stick to the plan.

The line shuffled forward one excruciating inch at a time. The kid in front was still crying. I wished I had a mute button for the entire world. All I wanted to do was get through this hellscape and find my gate.

I knew shit was dire when sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair was unquestionably the better option.

Are these intensive security measures typical of your day?

I froze for a second, unsure how to explain 9/11 and the resulting TSA requirements to a soldier from the Roman Empire. “It’s been like this for sixteen years. You saw it when we flew to San Francisco, remember?”

I did not realize it was simply commonplace.

“Did you think there was something extra special that needed guarding in Frisco?”

Does Silicon Valley not sound like the site of an artifact?

“I guess technically it was. But no, this garbage happens every time you want to fly, unless you live in some backwater place with a tiny airport. And even there, you have to take off your damn shoes.”

I see. It is a pity that the basic warring nature of human beings has yet to change.

“You could argue it has; it’s just evolved—or devolved.”

We finally made our way up to the agent at the checkpoint, and I presented the only real identification I still had from my old life: my driver’s license. He looked at it, looked at me, looked at my boarding pass. A few seconds of silence passed, during which I did my absolute best not to look suspicious.

“You’re all set, Victoria,” he said, scribbling his mark on my pass. “Have a safe flight.”

“Thanks.” I took my stuff back and scooted into one of the conveyor belt lines. My heart thrummed in my chest, but I knew the hard part was almost over. As long as no one said anything about the sword hilt, I’d be home free. “All right, buddy, see you on the flip side.” I took off the medallion and put it in a bin next to the hilt, my shoes, and my phone.

“Ma’am?” The TSA agent manning the start of the belt spotted it immediately. “That’s not a weapon, is it?”

Keeping all the curse words inside my head, I smiled at her. “Nope. It’s just an ornamental hilt.”

She looked puzzled. “Just the hilt? There’s no blade?”

“No blade. You can see the slot for it, but it was probably taken out a long time ago.” I shrugged. “I just didn’t want to check it because it’s pretty important to me, and I’d be heartbroken if something happened to it in cargo.”

The agent picked up the Gladius Solis, examining it with both hands. I had never been so thankful that it looked completely innocuous when it wasn’t activated. She still looked mildly bewildered when she put it back down, but she waved it through. “Now I’ve seen everything,” she told me, smiling. “Go ahead.”

“Thank you.” I stepped up to the scanner, held my hands above my head, and stepped out on the other side. No one patted me down, and as soon as my bin and backpack came down the belt, I grabbed them and found an empty bench.

Shoving my feet back into my shoes, I noticed someone watching me. He had his arms outstretched for the secondary detector wand, but his eyes were glued to me, full of a familiar predatory expression. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. Our gazes met briefly.

He smiled.

Yeah, definitely a damn vampire.

“Damn it to shit hell,” I muttered, slipping the medallion over my head and throwing on my backpack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him clear security and head toward me. His hungry eyes looked me up and down. I was going to play it cool, but if he wanted to start shit, he wouldn’t leave me much of a choice.

As he gained ground, I spotted a family bathroom ten yards off. A perfect place to hide out.

“Here we go,” I muttered under my breath.

Well at least the trip will not be a complete waste.

The door shut behind me. I turned to face it and reached for the lock, but before I could swivel the chrome hardware, the door pushed open.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said, standing in the doorway grinning. He was so pale, I swore I could see his internal organs. “I was hoping you’d invite me somewhere private.”

I lunged for him. Grabbing the vamp by the shirt, I spun and pinned him up against the baby changing station with my elbow at his throat. “I don’t think I invited you anywhere,” I sneered. “You bloodsucking son of a bitch. How many of you did Lorcan send?”

His eyes went wide, their glint of malice replaced by fear. “Whoa. Shit. What the hell are you talking about? I—I thought we were on the same page!” He tried to raise his arms in defense, but I pinned them to his sides.

“On the same page about what, exactly? I don’t think we’ve ever spoken.” My knee threatened his junk in no uncertain terms. “And I don’t appreciate unwanted company.”

“Okay, okay! I’m sorry! Look, I was checking you out in the security line, and then you kept looking at me like that, so I thought you were into it. You know, a little airport fun. That’s all, I swear!” He was sweating, which was not a good look for his already slimy complexion. Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes. “Don’t hurt me. I’ll never do it again. Just please don’t hurt me.”

I glared at him closely, trying to figure out how much truth he was telling. I had to admit that with every passing second of zero resistance, the likelihood of him being a vampire diminished. If he had vamp strength or speed or temperament, he wouldn’t have hesitated to fight back as soon as I laid hands on him.

This guy wasn’t a vampire after all. He was just a pathetic creep.

“Ugh.” I let go of him. “Get out of here.” Casting a fearful glance back at me, he vacated the bathroom immediately. Once he was gone, I locked the door and splashed some cold water on my face. The reflection in the mirror looked a hundred percent done with this crap.

Not my finest moment, but a girl couldn’t be too careful.

Marcus’s voice sounded in my mind, and I expected my fairy godsoldier to chastise me for acting too rashly. Instead, all I could make out was laughter.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, knowing full well what was funny. Hell, it would’ve cracked me up if it happened to someone else.

His face! Marcus guffawed with glee. I thought he was about to soil himself!

“Pretty sure he was, but I’m super glad I didn’t have to see it.” Wiping my hands on my jeans, I left the bathroom and headed for the terminal. “Is it too much to ask that we make it to the damn gate without any more drama?”

That depends. How far away is the gate?

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s hope this lead checks out. Otherwise, I’m going to put on a cape and start busting muggers and petty thieves.”

Chapter Two

I walked down the jetway six hours later, still groggy from my in-flight nap. The whole experience had an uncomfortable undertone of déjà vu, except this time I was walking through Seattle-Tacoma instead of San Fran International. And it was raining outside.

One thing was the same: I had no idea where I was really going.

Bypassing the baggage claim, I paused next to a bank of chairs to fish out my phone. Namiko had sent me directions from the airport to the site of the plague-ridden town. I pulled them up into the phone’s GPS to get a travel time estimate, which came back at roughly three hours. Weirdly, I was kind of looking forward to the trip. Once upon a time, I had loved to drive. Maybe it would be nice to get back behind the wheel for something other than a panicked escape sequence.

“First things first,” I said cheerfully to Marcus. “I’m gonna get a drink.”

Well deserved, he said, totally unaware that it wasn’t the most responsible decision to make before a long drive. But perhaps only one. It would not do to be inebriated when we arrive at our destination.

“Right.” I was secretly glad he’d reinforced the importance of moderation because I’d been feeling pretty ragged. “Just in case.”

The first bar I found near the airport was a higher-end joint where the bar was lit and the bartender had to wear a uniform. Over the pressed white shirt and creased black slacks, he wore perfectly coiffed hair and a neat mustache. One arm was covered in a sleeve tattoo of a giant, thrashing koi.

Back in New York, I would never have set foot in this place, but I was already out of my element, and I didn’t feel like walking anymore. I sat down, and he nodded at me from across the counter. “Be right with you, okay?”

“Sure.” I studied the directions while I waited. They didn’t make that much sense to me, but I hoped things would fall into place once we hit the road. I was still absorbed in them when the barkeep came over.

“What can I get for you?” he asked. “Other than better directions?”

I chuckled. “They’re not awful. I’m just not familiar with the area, and I’m concerned about getting lost.” I took a second to examine the drink board behind him. “Can I get a chocolate stout?”

“Good choice. It’s on tap. Nitro.” He stepped away to retrieve a glass and glanced back at me as he filled it. “Where are you headed, if you don’t mind me asking? Maybe I can lend a hand.”

“Uh, it’s called Mormouth.” I showed him the map I had. He set down my beer and leaned over to take a look. His brow furrowed.

“Been a while since I’ve had someone heading out that way. You sure that’s where you’re going?”

That interested me. “Almost positive. Why?”

The guy arched his eyebrows at me. “No real reason, but there’s nothing except hick towns and horror stories out that way.”

“Horror stories?” The beer was crisp and cold on my tongue—precisely what I needed to clear the plane-fog from my head. “What kind of horror stories?”

He began to polish the bar in idle, sweeping circles. “You know, the usual. Local legend kind of spooks. People out there are convinced they’re living next door to Bigfoot, or there are aliens landing in their fields and spying on them. It’s that sort of place.”

“Aww, that’s not so scary,” I said. “I thought you were going to tell me about murderous sex cults or something like that.”

He gave me a grim smile. “You don’t have to leave Seattle if that’s the kind of excitement you’re looking for. But those homegrown ghost stories have a certain appeal to a certain kind of person. Some people really believe in it. Now, here. It’s really simple.” He took a pen and a napkin from his bar apron and started to draw a map in red ink. “There’s the interstate, see? Get on and take it north for a few hours until it shrinks down and you start to see the signs for Mormouth. It’ll get pretty dark out there, but as long as you stick to the highway, you should be fine.”

“What about after the highway?”

He frowned slightly. “That, I can’t help with so much. But I know Mormouth is practically Canada, so keep heading north and you’ll get there. I think the road going in is called Old Church Hill. It’s more of a mountain than a hill if you ask me, but there might still be a church there.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Taking the map and slipping it into my bag, I felt another presence sliding into the seat beside me. The sensation reminded me of meeting Deacon, only not so nice. What was with trouble finding me in bars? Just once, I wanted to have a nice, relaxing drink by myself.

“Old Church Hill?” the new arrival asked. The guy was broad and top heavy, and he reeked of cologne that could kill a donkey. “Had an uncle with a place out there years ago.” He winked. “I’m available for escort services if you need one, sweetheart.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I can take care of myself.” I was suddenly extremely keen to finish my drink and be on my way, the pleasant atmosphere all but evaporated. The friendly bartender hovered nearby, clearly listening as he cleaned glasses.

“Ooh, we got a feisty one over here!” The douchebag was well dressed, but I already hated him. He ordered a vodka martini with an extra olive, and I hated him more.

The men in this era seem to lack decency, but do not do anything untoward, Victoria. Our business is elsewhere.

Marcus was right, and I knew he was right. It didn’t stop me from itching to clock this asshole right in his smug face. He was so convinced of his own irresistibility that maybe it actually worked sometimes. But not on me.

I drained the last of my glass and set it on the bar. “Thanks for the drink,” I said to the bartender, fishing out a ten. “Keep the change.”

“No, no.” Douchey McAssface had the gall to put his hand over mine as he pushed my money away. “Put hers on my tab, good sir. I’ll make it worth your while.”

I gritted my teeth as I pushed back my stool. “Please don’t do that.” Pulling my hand away, I reoffered the money. “This is for you. I’ve got to go now.”

“What’s the rush, princess? Old Church Hill isn’t that far. There’s plenty of good daylight left. You should stay and get to know me a little before you regret rushing off.” He grinned. “I could be your Prince Charming.”

Bile crept up my throat. “I said, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting someone.” When I moved to leave again, he grabbed my arm.

“Around here, it’s pretty rude to refuse hospitality.” The douche’s voice had acquired a sharp edge and so had his eyes. “Why don’t you sit back down?”

My own eyes went from his hand on my arm to his face, where the smile stretched thin over deadly seriousness. He thought he had the upper hand, that I wouldn’t dare resist him. Little did he know that touching me could be the worst mistake he’d ever made.

Victoria, in regards to my previous advice about remaining discreet…

“Yeah,” I said out loud. Prince Charming took it as a sign that I was weakening.

Ignore me. This cretin deserves to be put in his place.

I smiled despite myself. Marcus loved a good smackdown as much as I did. But for once, caution seemed to be the better part of valor.

It was the bartender who cut the tense silence. “I think you need to leave, my friend.” He addressed the douche, not me. “Sooner rather than later.”

“You’re not much of a businessman,” the douche sneered. “Rejecting the best business you’ll get tonight. No, I think I’ll stay, and you’re going to serve me.”

By this point, our little scene had attracted the attention of most of the other patrons. They glanced between us expectantly, waiting for the fight to start. I gave my wrist an experimental tug.

The douche tightened his grip. “And this lovely lady will have another drink on me,” he said. “Won’t you, darling?”

My temper rose another notch. “Call me darling one more time and you’ll be drinking out of a straw,” I said through gritted teeth. Then I wrenched my arm from his fingers. “I said I have someplace to be, so if you’ll kindly fuck off, that would be great.” I wanted badly not to escalate things for once in my life, but this guy was an asshole, and I wasn’t about to put up with his bullshit.

“Get back here!” he half-shouted, his face a stone mask of thinly veiled rage. “You think you can just walk out on me? You little—”

A shadow fell over him, cutting him off. He looked over his shoulder to see a big, broad figure looming over him, dressed in black, the word “SECURITY” emblazoned on his T-shirt. The bouncer spoke in a low, calm voice from the depths of a truly magnificent beard.

“Son, I think you’ve got some things to learn about social aptitude. And if you don’t shut your trap and keep your paws off the women in my bar, I’m fixing to teach you a lesson right now.”

Doucheboat looked up at the bouncer. Having stood close to him for a couple minutes, I realized his cologne was laid on thick to mask the stench of much stronger alcohol. The dude was already sloshed out of his mind, and he was about to get beat out of it, too.

The bartender signaled to me to get away, just as the asshole took a drunken swing.

“Holy shit!” someone said from the other side of the room. I ducked and made for the door. Behind me, the distinctive sound of a solid punch reverberated through the bar. Everyone gasped in unison.

Quite impressive, Marcus remarked. I would not have expected a bar of this caliber to be so receptive to violence.

“You learn something new every day,” I said. The bouncer landed another huge hit, and something jangly hit the floor near my foot.

Car keys. They’d been punched right out of the asshole’s tailored jacket. No one else seemed to notice, so while all the attention was focused on the continued beating, I swiped the keys from the floor and went out. The cold air slapped me in the face, but it was better than being in the middle of that struggle.

And now I had a ride.

I looked down at the fob attached to the keys and smirked. So clothes weren’t the only expensive thing that asshat owned. He had an Audi, too.

Or he did until right now.

“My hero.” I smiled.

Standing in the center of the lot, I thumbed down the lock button. Near the end, a set of tail lights flashed. “There we go.” I ran over, hopped in, adjusted the seat, and peeled out of there in a flash. “Usually, I’d feel guilty about grand theft auto, but this just feels right.”

I would frown upon your methods, but in this case, I believe there is more than a little poetic justice.

“Right? That dude wasn’t supernatural, but he was a monster just the same. Maybe this will teach him not to be such a prick.”

Men like him rarely see the error of their ways, but perhaps no one is beyond redemption.

“I certainly hope so,” I said. “People like him make me wonder if the human race is even worth saving.”

I know you do not really believe that.

I sighed. “No. I suppose there’s plenty of good in the world. Like cheap burgers and expensive booze. I’d be pretty sad if those went away. Speaking of which, let’s go see what Namiko was worried about.”

The car had a new GPS built into the console. I punched in Mormouth, Washington as I waited for an opening out into the street. Then, following the instruction of a woman’s robotic voice, I took a left and headed toward the interstate.

The bar disappeared in my rearview mirror as I got onto the on ramp and hit the gas. Next stop, crazy plague town.

Chapter Three

The Audi ran like a dream, eating up the long stretch of pavement ahead. I settled back into the heated seat and resolved to enjoy the hell out of the ride for as long as I could. I would have to ditch the car eventually, and I doubted my next ride would be nearly as comfortable.

Reaching over, I turned on the radio.

“What kind of music did you listen to, Marcus?”

Nothing that would appeal to your tastes, I think. Our music was suited mostly for marching or for revelry.

“I don’t know, man. Revelry sounds like a pretty good time.” I fiddled with the stations until I found one I liked, a constant stream of hits from the seventies and eighties. Music my parents loved.

What is this? Marcus asked out of simple curiosity, just like I feared he would. Or maybe I wanted him to and that was why I played it.

“It’s a group of old-time minstrels called The Cure. My mom loved these guys. Do you hate it?” I disguised my vulnerability with playful teasing, as was my wont. “I can turn it up.”

It is not the most unpleasant thing I have ever heard. What exactly are they the cure for?

I laughed. “Well, these guys were known for writing some of the best sad-bastard music of the eighties. So, I guess they’re the cure for happiness.”

Confounding. Our music most often raised the spirits, filled the heart with courage.

“Yeah. We have some of that too. Nothing wrong with a good-old dirge though, right?” I shrugged. “Maybe I’m subconsciously trying to make more of an effort to get back in touch with who I used to be.”

You make that sound like a questionable endeavor.

“It might be. It’s hard to say if I was actually better back then or not. I was definitely different. But probably also weaker, in more ways than one.”

Are you unhappy right now?

“No, not really, but I’m still totally overwhelmed sometimes. How could I not be? You showed up, put a sword in my hand, and sent me off to fight gods I didn’t even know existed two months ago. I’ve traveled more in the past six weeks than I ever have in my life. I’ve met some unbelievable people, seen some actually unbelievable things. So, on one hand, it’s like, how do I even process all of this?”

And on the other?

“On the other, how did I live before this happened?” There was no way to deny the bizarre calling I felt whenever the sword was in my hand, how natural it seemed to be chasing down leads all over the country, now that I’d done away with Rocco. Yeah, it was a hundred different cans of worms, but leaving a thing unfinished went against every aspect of my dogged, pathologically stubborn nature.

Marcus had roped me in, and I was in for good.

An hour and a half outside of Seattle, as the sun began to pour orange and red across the highway, the radio started to cut out. “I thought satellite radio was immune to this shit,” I muttered, turning the dial. “Like, I thought that was the whole point of the satellite part.”

I would not know.

“Oh, really? You don’t know about sending technology into space on rocket ships? Color me shocked.” I smiled as I spoke, but Marcus seemed a little offended.

I was a Centurion of Rome. I know many things, like how to fight, how to discipline, and how to lead an army.

“I know, buddy. It’s a shame we’re not invading Gaul right now. I’m sure you would know how to unleash hell on those barbarian hordes. But for now, I wish you knew something about getting the radio to work. It looks like we’ve been relegated to the local stations.”

Switching to regular FM, I spun my way through the whole dial, picking out clarity from the mess of static. Most of the stations were twangy country western, so I kept scanning. I took a hard pass on the couple evangelical stations and finally settled on a local news channel. Not the most stimulating content, but better than nothing. The Audi was such a smooth ride that I feared the silence would make me fall asleep.

“Weather’s looking pretty choice for the next few days, folks, with nice clear skies and the faintest whisper of a wind from the east. Last week’s storms are packing off down the road toward Oregon, so all that rain is gonna be their problem now.” The anchor let out a jolly, honking laugh that made me snort.

Then he said, “Hey, speaking of clearing storms, the storm of rumors abounding over a couple of missing persons cases up north is finally being put to rest by the county sheriff’s department. The official statement seems to be that any and all conjecture surrounding the reports is completely unfounded. In other words, everything’s fine, folks! Nothing to see here, move along.” There was a pause. “Of course, there’s no word on whether or not they actually found anyone.” The honking laugh came again, but I didn’t join in this time. A funny feeling had spawned in my stomach.

“Did you hear that, Marcus? Missing persons cases up north. That’s where we’re headed.”

That was one of the incidents mentioned in Namiko’s report.

“Yeah.” I listened for a little longer, but the host didn’t go back to it. If anything, he seemed eager to get away from the subject. “Let’s see if we can find anything else.” I changed to AM and turned the dial again. More fields of static, and then—

“Well, I tried to report her missing, but the police wouldn’t hear it.” My hand froze. “Told me to call back in twenty-four hours, but when I called again, nobody answered. I don’t know what the heck is going on over there, but I don’t like it.”

“Thanks for calling.” This host was a youngish sounding guy with a reedy voice that sort of grated on my eardrums. “We’ll add your report to the file. Remember folks, this file is going straight into the hands of law enforcement whether they like it or not, so be sure to call in and get your story told. All these shady shenanigans have to stop now, but the government won’t fess up unless we hold them accountable.” He paused, cleared his throat. “Our next caller is on the line. Go ahead, sir.”

“Yeah, I had a cousin living up near Mormouth,” the caller said in a gruff baritone. I sat up straighter at the mention of the town. “Had a farm up there, a place for his family, all that stuff. He seemed really happy, you know? We used to hear from him every couple of weeks or so. Well, he hasn’t called or stopped by in over a month now.”

“Interesting,” the host said. “I assume you’ve tried to make contact from your end?”

“Yep. Not a peep. My aunt is starting to get pretty worried, but we can’t get ahold of anyone official, neither. If they don’t just tell us to call back, they tell us to buzz off, or they don’t answer at all. I’d go up there myself, but I don’t have time, what with work and all.”

“You’ve filed a missing person’s report?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they took us seriously. Feels like no one cares about anyone up there, you know? Like they’re all hillbillies and not worth the time to look for.” The caller sighed. “But Harvey’s my cousin, and he’s got a family. We just want him to be found.”

I shut off the radio, unexpectedly assaulted by a wave of sadness. “Shit.”

Perhaps this situation is more dire than we expected, Marcus said carefully. We should expect trouble, Victoria.

I nodded, searching for words and finding none, except for the man on the radio’s plea for help: “He’s got a family and they want him to be found.” The despair in the man’s voice was a punch to my gut. It made the whole thing feel real. Actual lives had been affected by whatever was going on up here, and no one in charge seemed to be doing anything about it.

That meant it was up to me. If I hadn’t been completely invested in this specific mission before, I sure as hell was now.

Night fell quickly during the second half of the drive, and soon, we were wading through inky blackness, the overhead lights few and far between. “Just stick to the highway and you should be fine,” I whispered to myself, echoing the bartender’s advice.

But the highway was starting to look less and less like a highway. It had shrunk from six lanes down to four narrow ones that fed off into winding, snakelike exits. I glanced compulsively into my mirrors every few seconds for reasons I couldn’t explain. The sensation of somebody following me had intensified ever since it got dark.

No flashing lights. No sirens. Only a few other sets of headlights.

But I could swear I wasn’t alone.

The GPS told me to take the next exit, so I did, banking the wheel hard to the right to follow the deep curve of the road. We wound around through total darkness, the shapes of burly trees rising at the roadside. A stop sign finally materialized from the nothingness, blazing in my headlights. I obeyed it and then eased the Audi forward. The road kept getting narrower.

Another shape appeared up ahead. Orange reflectors leapt from the shadows like eyes so abruptly that I nearly slammed on my brakes. I could just make out a police insignia painted on the doors of the two cars parked nose to nose in the road, effectively blocking all passage.

“What the hell?” A roadblock was the last thing I was expecting up here. The officer who stepped into my lights came around to the window, which I rolled down. “Hi, officer. Can I get through?”

“Afraid not, ma’am. The road’s in terrible condition up ahead. We had flash floods last week from the storms, so a lot of these roads are impassable at the moment. You’ll have to turn around.” Without allowing me the chance to respond, he backed away from the car, waving me back the way I came.

“Okay.” I put the shift into reverse and crept backward until I reached a spot where I could safely turn around. There had been a few forks earlier on that I had studiously ignored, but it was evidently time to try something else. The first one I picked took me to a dead end with a falling-down old barn at the end of a barren lot. A good place to get murdered.

The second try ended in a rancid pond, scummed over with brown algae. The smell of decay seeped through my windows. I went back into reverse and attempted another route. This next one stumped even the GPS, and I didn’t have enough confidence in my navigation skills to keep driving into what was apparently uncharted territory.

I put the Audi in park and leaned back in the seat, thinking. There was only one viable option, unless I wanted to waste tons of time for potentially no reward. It was sort of a shame; I’d only had this car for a few hours, and it was an undeniably sweet ride. But I also knew the douche at the bar would report it stolen for sure once he sobered up or awoke from his coma. Leaving it behind was probably for the best.

Slipping out of the driver’s side door into the cool embrace of the northwestern night, I stretched out my limbs and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Guess I’m walking from here.”

With backpack in tow, I began my trek. It took longer than I wanted to make my way back to the barricade. I’ve always been better at navigating via landmarks, and this dark-ass forest didn’t have any except trees and more trees that all looked the same to me. Mostly, I relied on retracing my steps as best I could, and eventually, I caught sight of the lights on the cop cars flashing up ahead.

“Oh, thank God.” I paused to psych myself up for the next part of the plan. Which was… what? Two cops stood between me and my destination.

The guy who’d sent me away before was sitting in his car now, his face lit from below by the glow of a screen. It certainly would not be a problem sneaking past officer friendly. Whatever was on his screen held him captivated, at least for the moment.

News feed? Game app? Porn? It didn’t matter. The dude had hours of entertainment in the palm of his hand, and all he knew was that the ranking officer had put him on a boring, crap detail.

I eyed a path past the officers’ cars, but then something pulled my attention—the static-filled squawk of the handheld radio sitting on the dash of the cruiser.

“Now that would be handy,” I whispered.

I would say you are right, Victoria, Marcus answered, even though I was just talking to myself. The marvels of your society’s technology in the hands of your provincial guards must do wonders for the crime rates.

“Wish that were the case, Marcus.”

All I needed was some sort of distraction, and I could snatch the radio and get the hell into the area these guys were guarding out here in the middle of nowhere. My hand mindlessly wandered to my bag, fingers locked around the sword from Carcerum.

I hope you are not thinking what I think you are thinking.

My friend’s proper prose made me smile every time without fail. “Don’t worry Marcus. As long as my aim is good, this will go off without a hitch.”

I stood up from my cover and drew the Gladius Solis, its golden blade responding immediately. Knowing my diversion would need to be quick, I picked the outline of a thick tree out beyond the police cars.

A golden streak of light should be distracting enough.

Closing one eye, I took aim again before launching the sword from over my head with a two-handed swing, Conan the Barbarian style.

“Ah, shit,” was all I could say as the sword found its course, right into the rear quarter panel of an empty cruiser. “Not a freaking word, Centurion.”

Marcus chuckled. You are not much of a shot, but that, Victoria, should indeed do well to distract the men in uniform.

Officer Friendly’s chin shot up, and he was out of his car in a heartbeat. As he ran toward my sword, I made a beeline for his radio. If there was any question as to whether or not my ploy would work, the cruiser, its ass pierced by the weapon of the gods, exploded into flames. The officers hit the dirt road, heads covered in their hands.

“Damn,” I said as I grabbed the radio off the dashboard and spun across the hood and toward the safety of the trees. As I ran, I turned toward the explosion and called on the sword. A streak of light shot from the flaming vehicles, the hilt landing in my hand.

“Huh, not hot at all.”

Ah! The Gladius is impervious to heat. Just one of its many celestial qualities.

“Good to know.” I tucked the hilt into my bag and took off into the damp, dark woods.

The night started with a bang, but I had a feeling it was only going to get more explosive from there.

Chapter Four

The sounds of shouting men and an exploding vehicle faded into the distance, and I refocused on the task at hand. With part one of the infiltration behind me, I was forced to acknowledge that the real difficult stuff was about to start. The napkin map was better than finding my way by the stars, but not by much. “Let’s see.” I positioned my phone’s flashlight above the red ink lines, squinting at them as though they meant something. “I think we’re going the right way.”

I would say that the only way is probably the right one, yes.

I rolled my eyes. “You’re only saying that because you’re not the one doing the walking. My feet are killing me.

Ah, to have feet again…

“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t complain about having a body so much.”

It is fine. I lived many lifetimes in service to Kronin. I am blessed beyond what most men are given. And now I get to continue my service at your side. Albeit while trapped in here.

“What’s it like in there anyways?”

He took a second to answer, but when he did, his voice was soft.

Strange. I see the world through your eyes, feel it through your skin. And yet I am still me. I still process what your senses give me through my own knowledge and experience. It is hard to explain beyond that.

“And what about when we’re not connected?”

You mean when you shove me in your pocket.

“Something like that. Is it... dark?” I pictured him trapped in a dark cell.

I can no longer see, but it is far from dark. Whatever power has sustained me here, it also keeps me content. My world is golden and warm. And without the world to distract me, I have plenty of time to reflect on my life and the trials to come. Body or no, I am not without strength.

“That sounds nice,” I said, and I meant it.

It is. Now if I am not mistaken, I believe you should veer left up here.

I stared at the path ahead of me and noticed a small branch to the side. “Are you sure?”

Orienteering is a skill required of a soldier. I believe you would call it, a useful skill?

I smiled broadly. “Yeah, yeah, okay. You’re not good for nothing. I think I’ll keep you around a little longer.”

For all my backtalk, I was truly glad he knew what he was doing. Nature and I were hardly on friendly terms—I’d be the first to admit that. Turns out, a concrete jungle and a real jungle have almost nothing in common. And by jungle, I meant forest obviously.

Fortunately for me and my incredibly subpar navigation ability, the path was short, well-worn, and led us essentially right where we needed to go. The first sign that we were approaching our destination was the eight-foot temporary fencing encircling everything. The dense mesh completely negated any view in, and I could see coils of razor wire along the top.

“What the hell have they got in there?” I mused, half to myself. “Dinosaurs?”

Whatever it is, it is likely not good. Proceed with caution.

“Noted.” Step one: stay far, far away from that razor wire. The last thing I needed was to be sneaking around this place with cut up hands, dripping blood everywhere. Instead, I monkeyed my way up the nearest tree, to which a length of fence was anchored with rope and chains. The branches, made of the darkest wood I’d ever seen, were long and gnarled like witch’s fingers. I tested each as I climbed, paranoid that one would break and send me crashing down. That was not the kind of entrance I wanted to make.

At long last, my head cleared the fence, and I was able to see unobstructed into the town beyond. From my relatively lofty perch, it reminded me of an old colonial village: a few clusters of stout little houses scattered among stone-paved roads. It had clearly expanded at some point in the past—the homes on the outskirts were newer, more modern in design—but now it was all under one hell of a lockdown for reasons that weren’t readily apparent.

Maybe because I couldn’t see shit. A soupy gray fog was rolling in thick over the entire scene, so fast I watched my visibility being reduced to almost nothing. Only the peaks of the roofs stood out, and then, only the chimney stacks. If I wanted a better look, I’d have to get my ass down to the ground.

“Wish me luck,” I muttered. “How long will it take my bones to heal after I screw this up and shatter them?”

Even after drinking the nectar of Carcerum, too long. So please refrain from breaking anything.

“I’ll do my best.” Ten feet hadn’t looked that high from the bottom up, but I felt a little pinch of vertigo as I assessed the possible ways over and down. The razor wire extended too far across the trunk of my tree for me to simply drop, which meant I needed to literally go out on a limb. So, I picked the strongest-looking bough in my immediate vicinity and started to shimmy gingerly out to the end, far enough that I wouldn’t be snagged on any barbs. Why the balls did they need fencing and razor wire? It was like I was breaking into some damn prison.

At the end of the branch, I swung down on my arms, flinching as the wood creaked ominously under my fingers. Fearing that it would break if I lingered, I launched myself forward on my own momentum, tucking and rolling as my shoulder hit the ground.

The fog condensed on my face and hair, streaming in rivulets over my cheeks. I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeve, blinking away the droplets, and took in the town. The buildings, shrouded in gray, were much more foreboding up close, primarily because it became apparent that they were all empty.

Not a great sign.

Smashed glass littered the ground, and the charred smell of an old fire hung on the air. But other than my own heavy breathing, the town was silent.

Some of the doors stood wide open, affording me a glimpse into the abandoned interior. A sturdy wooden table stood alone in what looked like a kitchen, still stocked with plates and silverware. The serving plate was piled with food. I frowned. That unsettled feeling from before crept back into my gut, as if I was in the process of witnessing something I wasn’t supposed to see.

“I don’t like this,” I said under my breath. It didn’t seem so stupid to have flown all the way out here anymore, but I wasn’t sure I was going to like the answers we found. “Where is everyone?”

That depends on who you mean by everyone.

The distinctive crunch of footsteps reached my ears through the wall of fog, and I tensed up, adrenaline automatically plunging through my veins. The white beams of high-intensity flashlights shot through the cloud. Voices came after.

“Can’t believe we’re the ones who got stuck in the freak show. They couldn’t find anyone else to do it?”

“Don’t complain, you prick. This is better than pushing papers at HQ, and you know it. And perimeter duty is as easy as it gets. All we have to do is walk around in circles all night and tell them we didn’t see squat in the morning. They’ll eat that shit up.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because nobody knows what the hell went down here, Jacobs. We could tell them we saw the ghost of Jimmy Hoffa, and they’d probably believe us. My guess is that whatever did this to these people is long gone. We’re in no danger. I’d bet my left nut on it.”

I pursed my lips. Charming. The black bark of the tree trunk I’d hidden behind was uncomfortably damp on my face, but I didn’t dare move. The pair was four feet away. If not for the fog, they would have seen me for sure. They drew level with my hiding spot, and I saw a shade of their faces, black coats, black pants, and as they passed, FBI emblazoned across the back of the shoulders in bright yellow.

Deacon’s boys.

God, I hoped he didn’t show up here. I kind of left a mess behind in Palo Alto, and we hadn’t spoken since I asked him to help me make that mess. I had no real idea what he thought about me, and now wasn’t exactly the right time to find out.

Victoria. Center your mind. Deacon is not here, so do not let him rule your thoughts.

“I thought you weren’t a mind reader,” I grumbled. But he had a point. I had been easily distracted and easily frustrated as of late, and now was not the time for any of that. I took a deep breath, shook off everything except the moment in front of me. “All right. I’m here.”

The agents had moved on down their path by then, so I crept out into the open, beelining for the next open house. It might have been easier to backtrack to the one I’d passed earlier, but retracing my steps felt like a huge risk. With my hearing attuned, I could tell the area was crawling with Feds. A crucial detail that I somehow missed on my descent behind the fence.

I crouched beneath the window of the old clapboard house, its chipped siding beaded with fog. The next pair of agents sauntered by, but I no longer listened to their chatter. As soon as the flashlight beams disappeared into the gloom, I slipped around the corner and through the front door.

The floorboard in front of the threshold creaked mightily. I froze, one foot still in the air. All the hair on my body stood on end. I felt like a human lightning rod, waiting to be struck down by a god or a gun. Two breaths cycled in and out of my lungs.

Nothing happened.

I put my foot down, eliciting another, softer creak. Pretending to walk on the thinnest ice imaginable, I padded down the front hall and into the sitting room. I expected more of the same: coffee cups on the arm of the sofa, books turned upside down to save the reader’s place, a half-eaten cookie on a plate left on the floor.

What I got instead was carnage.

Dark patches of blood painted the room, streaks splashing as high as the ceiling in some places. The articles left behind were shreds of clothing and broken glasses, sneakers with the laces in tangles. Crimson pools soaked into the plain beige carpet.

“Marcus, what the hell is this?” I asked incredulously, though I already knew the answer.

This is the work of the gods. This is what we are fighting against.

I went through the next doorway before I had time to have second thoughts. It led me into the kitchen, which was in total disarray, the scene of a grisly fight. More blood blazed in brutal relief against the white tile. Broken picture frames hung crooked on the wall. Closest to my eye level was a family portrait, all the faces but one smeared with gore. She was, as far as I could tell, the mother of the house. Brown hair, freckles, sunny green eyes. Her smile stretched all the way up into her cheeks.

I didn’t want to look at her or think about what had happened to her in this house, where she thought she was safe. In fact, I didn’t want to be there anymore at all. Rather than tour the rest of the house, which I was sure wouldn’t be any better, I punched out the few remaining shards of glass in the kitchen window and jumped out without even checking to see if the coast was clear.

My skin crawled. I shuddered with the residual horror of all I had just seen. Killing vamps and harpies was one thing. But when it was people?

I chewed my lip. Was I already in over my head?

Victoria, are you all right? You seem unwell.

I sucked a deep draught of the cold, wet air. “I’m fine,” I said, unsure if I was lying or not. “That was just… it was a lot to see, you know? I wasn’t ready.”

I understand. If you need a moment to regain your composure, feel free to take one. I will keep watch.

“Thanks, buddy, but I’ll regain my composure when I find whoever did this and shove my sword down their throat.” I slunk around the other side of the house into the rapidly overgrowing mess of weeds that had likely once been a garden. My nerves felt dangerously frayed. If I turned around, I was afraid I’d just run straight back home.

At this point, even I knew that would be unacceptable.

So, I sucked it up and soldiered on, darting from shadow to shadow around the probing antennae of the FBI flashlights. Damn, those things were bright. They flicked back and forth with neurotic energy, unlike the slow, predictable arcs I had come to expect from games and television. Twice, I leapt back just in time to keep from being blinded by the demonic eye of one of those portable suns.

“Damn it to hell.” I crawled on my stomach across the soggy ground to a car that was parked outside of its garage. The undercarriage had started to rust from all the moisture, and when I sat up, I saw streaky red handprints all over the inside of the windows. I closed my eyes, inhaled, exhaled. “What a nightmare.”

“Who are you talking to?” a small voice whispered.

I clamped my mouth shut to hold in the sound that wanted to burst forth from my lungs—either a scream or a torrent of violent swears. I wasn’t sure which. Searching the darkness, I spotted a pair of eyes staring at me from beneath the car’s headlights. They were startlingly low to the ground. That, combined with the high pitch of the voice, told me everything I didn’t want to know.

There was a kid out here in the middle of Murder Ghost Town, USA. As if things needed to be just a little more complicated.

What is a child doing here? Marcus almost sounded offended by the idea.

Any other time, I would have loved to know the answer as well, but at the moment, I was too preoccupied with figuring out what the hell to do. It was too late to try and sneak by undetected—the little bugger had already found and acknowledged me. I could ignore him, pretend I didn’t hear, and split, but my conscience wouldn’t allow it.

I stifled a groan. “No one. Stay quiet, okay? I’m going to get you some help.”

This strikes me as a fool’s errand, Victoria. If you are found out, then the mission ends immediately.

“Yeah, yeah. But if this kid gets killed, I won’t be able to live with myself whether I succeed in the mission or not, okay? Just let me prioritize here.” I looked around for a landmark then lifted the walkie talkie to my mouth and pressed to talk. “I don’t know who’s on the other end, but I’ve got a child inside the secured perimeter. Repeat, a child inside the secured perimeter. Near the old white church. Please send rescue, ASAP.” Then I turned to the kid, who was still little more than a pair of huge brown eyes. “Don’t move an inch, and don’t fight them when they show up for you. It’s not safe here.”

“I know,” he said somberly. “That’s why I’m hiding.”

Shit.

“Did you see what happened here?”

The kid nodded. “Mommy, she was making me dinner. And then she got sick. Then her and Daddy started fighting.”

I looked back at the house, picturing the scene with my mind. It was hard for me to imagine that someone with kids would willingly make a deal with the gods, but then again, the world was full of shitty people. “Well it’s okay, kid. All that’s over now. You just sit tight until the men in uniform show up, all right?”

He nodded again then huddled back against the car.

Good deed done, it was time to make myself disappear. I booked it over the neighbor’s garden wall and knelt in their ruined vegetable patch, my knee square inside the corpse of a tiny pumpkin. I should have moved on right away, but I just wanted to make sure he got collected. The low wall shielded me from most of the piercing light as a brigade of strangely bulky figures surrounded the car.

I furrowed my brow and blinked a few times. I had to be seeing this wrong.

They were all wearing Hazmat suits.

Chapter Five

Something truly messed up was going down in this village, and I had to get to the bottom of it. The best way to deal with fear was to puzzle it out, and I was pretty damn scared. So that meant digging my heels in and pushing forward instead of running the other way.

First chance I got, I left that garden and looped around the far side of the group at the car. They’d taken the little boy into their care without incident, and I was fairly sure he hadn’t said anything about me. Although now that I’d used the cop’s radio, I knew I’d have to be extra careful. No way did I sound like that walkie talkie rightfully belonged to me.

Two houses away, as I edged along a gradually collapsing fence near the outer rim of the town, I heard a scream that I could only describe as rattling. It was not a scream from horror movies, processed and still kind of playful.

This was the sound of someone dying,

“Shit!” I burst into overdrive, temporarily not caring who heard or saw me. My legs pumped furiously over the muddy dirt, vaulting overturned paving stones, roots erupting from the soil, more broken pieces of wall. By the time I reached the source of the harrowing cry, he was very, very dead. It was hard to fathom a scenario in which he could have been alive. The body was more or less torn to leaking shreds, gristle and bone interspersed with pieces of the Hazmat suit that was supposed to protect him.

No suit could protect these guys from whatever was in these woods.

“Up here, this way. Last saw him over there.”

My heart dropped, and then it started hammering. I’d recognize that low, smooth, drawly voice anywhere, even in a fog-drenched, murderous ghost town deep in the Pacific Northwest. Hadn’t I been hoping he wouldn’t show up less than fifteen minutes ago? Then again, I guessed I didn’t have any right to be surprised

Life had a funny way of spitting directly in my face.

I was immobilized just long enough to completely negate any chance of escape. Deacon’s flashlight, as strong as all the others, caught me bent over the mutilated body like some kind of ghoul. I looked up, straight into his face—which was shielded by a Hazmat suit.

“You think I could get one of those suits?” I asked as casually as possible.

He stared at me, dumbfounded for a split second. “Vic?” His voice was hesitant, as if he really couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “What the hell are you doing here?” Before I could answer, he held up a hand. “Wait, don’t tell me. You’re here to make my life that much harder yet again. Is that it?”

“Whatever. I know you’re glad to see me,” I said, giving him a coy smile. It wasn’t really the time to mess around, but Deacon St. Clare just had a knack for bringing this side out of me.

“How do you even know about this? Are you... is this somehow connected to whatever shit you’re in?”

He stepped closer then stopped as he got a better glance at the sack of blood and guts at my feet. “Mother of—”

“Yeah.” There was nothing to argue about there. “That about sums it up.”

He called in the body, and then he turned to me, his hand lingering at his side. “What the hell is going on here? No more games. That’s a federal agent—a dead federal agent. Tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for this.”

I paused, unsure of how to continue. “Deacon, there’s an explanation, although I doubt you’d call it reasonable.”

“Try me. I’ve gone out on a pretty big limb for you. You could try reciprocating at least a little. Not telling me is bull—” He never finished his sentence. A shape, large and moving fast, broke through the fog. One instant, Deacon was there in front of me, and the next, he flew through the air, set aloft by something I hadn’t quite seen. I felt his body hit the ground more than I heard it, the impact reverberating through my feet.

“Deacon!” He was too far away to see clearly, but I lunged half-blind toward him. Before I reached his body, the shape reappeared.

Its huge head was sunken down between two hulking shoulders. Even hunched over like it was, it loomed over me. But it wasn’t its size, nor the fact that it had just thrown Deacon like he was a doll, that held my attention.

It was the eyes. Burning bronze eyes set deep in a long hairy skull.

The Forgotten reveals itself.

I skidded to a stop. My hand found the reassuring weight of the sword hilt in my bag. As the creature lunged toward me, my golden blade cut an arc through the dismal gray fog, biting into its flesh. I saw the monster’s blood fly up in a scarlet fan. It made a surreal, howling roar.

Following through with my swing, I set up for another. The thing reared up on its hind legs, threw its head back, and howled again. In the ambient light cast by the Gladius Solis, the wound I’d inflicted gleamed with running blood. The creature was almost humanoid, but not quite. The broad, paw-like hands were wrong, and so were the vicious claws. So were the furious bronze eyes locked on mine.

I retreated a step, then another. The sword reared back in my hand, preparing for the kind of driving strike that had ended the lives of other monsters. This creature was exceptionally tall, but I was confident I could put an end to things right now.

Until the beast fell forward onto all fours, wheeled around, and ran into the trees.

I was about to chase after it until I remembered Deacon lying yards away. The sword slipped from my hands, and I ran toward him. I dropped to my knees where he had fallen, splattering his Hazmat suit with mud.

It didn’t matter. The suit was torn straight through across the torso, wide enough that I could see he was bleeding.

“Shit. Deacon, can you hear me?”

“It’s… getting away,” he managed.

“Shut up, you prick. You’re bleeding out. You need help.”

He shook his head weakly. “No. No help. You… go after it.” His eyes started to close, jerked open, and drifted shut again. “Go… Vic. I’ll… I’ll be fine.”

“As you were saying before you got creamed by that pup, that’s bullshit.” I glanced back toward the sword still protruding from the mud and sinking deeper every second. Reasoning that Deacon was delirious and probably wouldn’t recall a thing, I put out my hand and called the Gladius Solis to me. Then I stuck it in my bag and slung Deacon’s arm over my shoulder, using it as leverage to pull the rest of him across my back.

He wasn’t as heavy as he looked—or I was stronger than I thought. Hooray nectar of the gods. I hiked out of there with him like a backpack on my shoulders. A mumbling, semi-conscious backpack.

“How… how are you doing this?” he asked. “I’m… too big for you.”

I readjusted his weight. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re pretty average.”

He went silent after that. Probably because he passed out for good, but I told myself he just couldn’t handle the searing heat of my sick burn.

“Where… what the hell?” The voice pulled me from my light slumber.

I opened my eyes to see Deacon finally stirring from his nearly catatonic slumber. The motel room we were crashing in was nothing to write home about. The overhead bulb flickered, and there was a steady drip from the sink in the bathroom. But it was quiet and cheap, and it gave me the time I needed to bandage my favorite FBI agent up.

And then tie him to the bed.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it was cut off as he realized he’d been filleted at some point in the very recent past. I went over, shook out a few pills, and fed them to him. Then I helped them down with a glass of water.

He took the pain killers without complaint, then looked down at the bandages hugging his chest. And then he noticed the wire I ripped from the in-room telephone which held his wrists to the bed frame. He pulled at his right, then his left before giving up. Finally, he turned his head back to me.

“Vic? What the hell happened?”

“Don’t tell me, you had an amazing dream with me and Toto and a bunch of flying monkeys,” I said. “Was I wearing the ruby slippers or were you?”

“Dammit, can we meet up even once without you doing something batshit crazy?”

“Most men find me mysterious and alluring.” I grinned.

“Yeah, and how many of those men wake up tied to a bed with weird bandages and…” He looked down at his body again and the sheet covering his lower half. “Where the hell are my clothes?”

“I admit, it’s not ideal.” I stood up and started pacing the room. “But there were extenuating circumstances. You were unconscious and wounded—the hazmat suit was torn to shreds. Frankly, I acted rather heroically, bringing you here and making sure you didn’t bleed out. Not a bad patch job, even if you were a shit patient. You should be grateful.”

He opened his mouth as if to reply, when his memory finally dawned on him. “Mormouth. You were there. I was attacked by… What was I attacked by?”

I debated telling him the truth, but somehow, I didn’t think he’d take it well. I was already kind of pushing the bounds of credulity—what with him tied up naked to the bed and all.

“A bear,” I answered.

“A bear?”

“Yep. Real mean sucker too. He was foraging for your berries or something. Luckily, I was there to scare him off.”

Deacon shook his head. “Scare him off. How?”

“With my winning personality,” I said quickly. “But that’s not really important right now. What’s important is that you’re safe and I’m safe. We’re both safe. But that town, Mormouth, isn’t. I was wondering if you could clue me in on what happened there. As payment for services rendered.” I pointed to the bandages encasing his torso.

“Ah,” he said. “You’re looking for intel. Which explains why I’m here with these cheap sheets scratching my ass and not in a hospital.”

“Hospital? Now where’s the fun in that? Besides, I make one hell of a nurse.” I stopped my pacing and took a step closer to him.

Deacon’s face shifted instantly from frustration to bewilderment to acceptance. He sighed. “I’ll be honest with you here. There’s not much intel to go around. Something tells me you already know more than me.”

I crossed my arms but kept the smile from my face.

Deacon gritted his teeth. “Fine, but only because no one actually knows for sure what’s going on. We only arrived yesterday, but it’s such a shitshow in there, it will take days to unpack it all. When the locals first showed up, they said a whole mess of the population was missing—those who weren’t just dead, anyway. No one can agree on cause of death in their reports. Some people went with wild animal attacks, even though that doesn’t make any damn sense. What kind of animal attacks all at once like that, in people’s homes? In their cars? Maybe some bears or whatever came in after the fact, but there’s human intent behind this. I’d bet my badge on it. There was aggression in those attacks. Rage.”

“Sounds cultish to me,” I said, aiming for him to confirm or deny. If he said anything about worship at all, I’d consider my hypothesis proven. It seemed impossible that the gods wouldn’t be involved somehow in a horror show like this. The whole thing was right up Lorcan’s twisted alley.

“Don’t think so,” Deacon said. “That was my first guess, some sort of ritual mass killing. But the facts don’t fit the theory. We’ve managed to put together profiles on several of the missing persons, and there’s nothing out of the ordinary at all. The town is clean, just pure country living one day, and the next, this. We’re talking families here, Vic. A town that goes back generations. They just don’t turn on each other. Not without reason. And that’s the other thing. There’s no clear pattern amongst the dead or the living.

“Old women, young kids, brothers and parents. Whatever is going on here, it disregards the demographics. Maybe if it was all the young men who were gone, or several whole families, then I’d be inclined to chalk it up to a cult, but these people didn’t drink any Kool-Aid, not as far as I can tell.”

He paused for a second then seemed to remember something. “There was another theory. My partner, Steph, she thinks it’s some kind of sickness. We picked up something weird in the water supply. Been trying to pin it down for days but no luck.”

“Hence the Hazmat suits?”

“Hence the Hazmat suits. If it’s not human, and it’s not animal, then it must be something ecological. Protocol is we don’t want to take any risks. They’re a pain in the ass, but they’re better than risking a total wipeout.” He shook his head. “Whatever it is, we don’t get it. I’m starting to think we might be operating a little out of our depth here, but I don’t understand how that could be.” Deacon looked genuinely perplexed. “I mean, what else are we supposed to do?”

“Well, maybe it’s complicated.” I moved away from the bed to the single chair in the room, which had given me a killer neck cramp from napping in it. “Nobody is going to understand something they’ve never seen before, right?”

He eyed me somewhat suspiciously. “You seem to be taking this in stride, Vic. I know what that scene looks like down in the village. I might have expected you to be a little more freaked out.”

“I’m not some damsel,” I warned him. “You may have noticed that by now.”

“Look, I can’t pretend to understand what you are. I just know that wherever you go, chaos is sure to follow. Or maybe it’s vice versa. I don’t know. But lives are at stake Vic. If you did know anything, you’d tell me, right? We’re at that level now?”

I wanted to say yes; I really did. My heart wished I could be totally honest with Deacon, but my brain knew it was out of the question. He was no different than all the other officers on the other side of that fence—just doing his job. And that meant he would try to stop me.

He didn’t know I could not be stopped. He didn’t know I was the only one on Earth who could do the job that needed to be done. He didn’t even really know what that job was. If I thought he’d believe me, I might have taken the chance to explain it.

Unfortunately, I already knew him way too well for that.

“I’ve already told you everything I can, Deacon.” I sat back on the edge of the mattress to try and generate some much-needed space. Every time I talked to this guy, I felt him inching closer to that small, warm place where pearls of trust began to form. Neither of us was ready for that. We were getting too close.

“Why is it,” he asked thoughtfully, “that every time I see you, I feel like I’m two inches from an interrogation? I don’t like that, Vic. I’m tired of running up against a brick wall.” He smirked. “Though I gotta say, tying me to the bed was an interesting innovation.”

“You think so?” I reached across him and grabbed an extra wad of ace bandages. “Then you’re going to love what comes next.”

He opened his mouth to reply, and I stuffed those bandages between his teeth in one quick thrust. Not far enough to choke him but deep enough that he couldn’t just spit them out. Deacon gasped through his nose. His chiseled face registered a whole range of emotions, from pure shock to betrayal and disbelief. Muffled sounds came from behind the ball of cotton.

“You didn’t think I was about to let you go, did you? Come on, Deacon. I’m still a criminal, after all.” I stood up and backed away from the bed, watching him strain to free himself and spit out the makeshift gag. The sounds were getting louder as he realized that yes, I really was going to leave him in his current state. “You can scream all you want, my friend. I already warned the front desk about all the wild sex we’d be having in here.”

Of course, I hadn’t done that, but he couldn’t know for sure. He rolled his eyes and pulled harder at the ropes.

“Be careful with those,” I cautioned him. “I don’t know how long it’ll take for housekeeping to find you tomorrow, and rope chafing is a real bitch.” If looks could kill, I would’ve been smote directly into my grave. “Anyway, I’m not naïve enough to think you won’t catch up with me sooner or later. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to yell at me then.” Gathering up my stuff, I turned for the door. “Oh, and don’t worry. The room’s all paid up.”

I shut the door on the bed frame’s furious rattling, Deacon shouting muted curses through his gag. Man, was he going to let me have it the next time I saw him.

I was kind of looking forward to it.

For now, though, he was little more than a sexy, stubborn obstacle that I needed out of my way. I tossed my stuff into the back of the Audi, got into the driver’s seat, and pulled away from the lot without looking back. I’d tied those knots nice and tight, but Deacon was a formidable adversary, and the cleaning crew probably made its rounds in the morning.

My clever little play would only buy me so much time.

Sometimes, I think you are crueler than you know, Victoria.

“You would say that. I think he liked it, deep down.” I put my foot on the gas and braced myself for whatever protest Marcus was about to lay on me.

No man enjoys humiliation at the hands of an enemy.

“Well, Deacon’s a big boy. I’m sure his ego will absorb the blow. Besides, tying him up beats shooting him. For both of us.” Even the thought of taking Deacon down made me squirm inside. Maybe that was a sign I knew him too well already. He’d become a person to me now, with a face and a heart and a soul.

I hoped that wasn’t going to be a problem.

Chapter Six

I ditched the car on the other dead-end path this time, closer to the site of the fenced-off town. This time, I used my sword to cut an opening in the fence instead of climbing a tree like an animal. The fencing was cheap and flimsy, in stark contrast to the forest of razor wire on top. But when I slipped through, the broken pieces bounced more or less back into place, effectively hiding the gap.

“Real secure perimeter, you brainiacs,” I muttered.

Mortal defenses rarely fare well against a weapon of the gods.

There seemed to be fewer agents patrolling the streets now that it was daylight, or at least, I saw fewer flashlight beams dancing through the impenetrable fog. I did hear snippets of panicked conversation as I stole along the deepest parts of the empty houses’ shadows.

“St. Clare’s missing, man.”

“What the hell do you mean, he’s missing? What happened to him?”

“Lieutenant says he might have been carried off by something big. There’s blood, and the ground’s all torn up.”

“What’s big enough to carry off a full-grown man around here? They said there wouldn’t be grizzlies.”

“There aren’t. That’s the problem. No drag marks, either.”

Maybe it was misplaced pride, but I was pretty proud of that. I knew I could give any of these guys a run for their money in the strength department now that I had the nectar flowing through me. A bear too, come to think of it.

If only the problem was as simple as an asshole bear.

I sneaked my way around to the place where Deacon and I had been attacked, hoping it wasn’t too thoroughly picked over and that any tracks were still intact. The first thing I saw was that the spot was essentially becoming a mud bog, what with all the clinging fog.

My boots sank into the ground, making obnoxious sucking noises as I yanked them back up. I held in a groan of frustration and told myself to take it as a learning experience. Practice adaptation. Use your disadvantages to become more flexible.

Marcus was starting to rub off on my own internal monologue.

“I’m going to need your help with this,” I whispered to him, staying low to the ground. The wet mud was cold and slimy on my legs. “I have no problem admitting I don’t know shit about tracking. I think we went camping once when I was like, seven.”

I am honored to share this inaugural experience with you, he said, the glee evident in his voice. There was this time, when I was a young lad living in the middle—

“I’m sure it’s a great story, but we really need to get to it.”

Once again, my vast knowledge goes unappreciated, he muttered to himself.

A string of pitiful yellow tape drooped off of the side of the tree closest to the spot where Deacon’s colleague had died. The body was gone, but an eerie, blood-streaked impression remained, littered with tattered scraps of a Hazmat suit. I crept closer, ignoring the cold apprehension coiled in the pit of my stomach. Nothing but silence touched my ears. The fog pulled in close around me.

Look for prints, Marcus instructed. If there are none, look for obvious disturbances in the earth.

I glanced around at the ruptured soil. “You mean, literally everywhere?” There wasn’t a centimeter that wasn’t disturbed as far as I could see. Some of the deeper gouges were filling with condensation, creating miniature pools in the dirt. “Shit. This is all going to wash away, isn’t it? We’d better move quick.”

Then you ought to listen harder. Look for obvious disturbances in the earth and see if you can form a trail.

I frowned. “You didn’t say that second part before.” Stepping gingerly, I kept my eyes peeled for any marks that appeared different from the others, more foot-like maybe. A few feet in, I hit the jackpot. “There!”

The print was huge, bigger than my whole hand. It was clearly a paw but not any kind I had ever seen before. The claws that ripped through Deacon’s suit and flesh stood out in high relief, and I wondered again how he’d been lucky enough to survive. “What the hell do you think this bastard is?”

Definitely one of the Forgotten. The gods loved to turn their minions into wild things. It seems at times that animals are closer to the gods than humans—at last as far as appearance goes. In my experience, animals tend to be far less cruel than humans.

“I’m with you on that. That thing that attacked Deacon, it sure looked like a giant dog or something. But I can’t be sure. It was dark and that damned fog made it hard to see.”

Well when we find it, you will have plenty of time to inspect its dead body up close.

I smiled. “I like your confidence in me.”

As always, I wished I shared his battle-hardened sureness. The size and depth of the pawprint was what concerned me the most. Were we headed into a battle with some kind of landlocked Godzilla? Reflexively, I felt for the hilt that I had secured at my hip before venturing back over the fence. “The Gladius Solis can handle whatever this is, right?”

Kronin’s sword can handle anything.

I wanted to ask if that was truth or just Carcerum propaganda he was spouting, but it didn’t seem like the right time to pick a petty fight. Instead, I focused on finding the next print amid the muddy morass. A human footprint stood out to me for a moment before I realized it was probably mine, left in the process of fighting off the beast I was trying to follow.

“This is harder than it looks.”

Most things are. You are learning much today.

I huffed and redoubled my efforts, determined not to be bested by Marcus’s interminable sass-talk. At first, I thought it might be a lost cause. The battleground was too chaotic for my untrained eye. Then I spotted a partial shape dug into the mud. “There!”

Good. Onto the next.

I felt like a little kid going on a scavenger hunt, except instead of searching for candy or Easter eggs at church in my Sunday best, I was following the trail of an angry, murderous monster that had killed at least one person and gravely injured a second. Under any other circumstances, I would’ve counted myself lucky that it ran away and washed my hands of the problem. None of my business, right?

Wrong. It was all my business now, every single morbid piece of it.

The farther we got from the site of the attack, the easier my task became. The heavy prints were much more distinct when surrounded by otherwise intact surfaces, and I had little trouble tracing the creature’s progress west, away from the village. The hush of the woods fell in over me like a blanket, layering in with the fog. The all-encompassing quiet was by turns comforting and oppressive. I had to fight the reflexive assumption that my senses were somehow being suppressed, that I was being smothered by malignant forces of nature.

I paused to breathe in deeply, chasing the extraneous thoughts from my mind. “Talk to me about something, Marcus. I think these stupid trees are starting to get inside my head.”

May I make a suggestion?

“Go for it.” I stretched, listening to my spine crackle.

It will be dark soon. You should prepare to camp. Traveling in unfamiliar territory overnight would be quite unwise, especially given that stray Forgotten may be wandering.

“Oh.” I looked up as far as I could and saw a sliver of grey sky through the thick canopy, virtually indistinguishable from the rest of the washed-out landscape. “Right. Good idea.”

As I foraged around for something with which to construct a shelter, I tried not to reflect on how utterly unprepared I was. Living on the streets or squatting in a building was nothing to me, but roughing it in the wilderness for a couple nights? Yeah, right. Even my slum of a loft had a working toilet.

“I hope it doesn’t rain.” I glanced up again as if I’d be able to tell through the haze of fog and my own ignorance of the outdoors. With a bunch of sticks in hand, I picked the softest-looking spot I could find and built an awkward rectangle around it, laying more sticks and grass across the top for a roof.

A castle fit for a king, Marcus said.

“I appreciate the effort, but your lie hurts me, dude.” The notion of spending a night in there was somewhat less than appealing, but I was too exposed without some kind of structure. Not that anything short of a damned bunker would be enough to keep one of those heinous beasts at bay. “I think I’ll sleep with the sword in my hand tonight.”

That would be prudent.

I found his agreement less than encouraging.

As it turned out, I shouldn’t have worried about sleeping at all because it just wouldn’t happen. I lay curled up for warmth on the damp undergrowth, staring at the gaps in my “wall.” The sword hilt lay within easy reach, just in case. Endless what-ifs paraded through my mind. What if that thing found me before I found it? What if it got the drop on me? What if I ended up dead before the sun came up, and all of this was for nothing?

The forest seemed to amplify all the fears I’d kept so carefully under wraps before. In New York and San Francisco, I had at least still been surrounded by millions of other people. Out in the middle of Washington’s nowhere, I was all alone. It had been a long time since I felt so small.

“Marcus?” My voice seemed to stop within inches of my face and drop to the ground, the word dead.

Hail, Victoria. What troubles you?

“Are you still up to talking? I can’t get to sleep, and I was hoping you might bore me to dreamland.” I was putting on a brave face, and I think he knew it. To his credit, he didn’t call me out. Sometimes, he was a much better friend to me than I was to him.

What do you want to talk about?

“I don’t know,” I said, shrugging on my side. “Anything. Tell me what life was like in the beginning.” I wanted to hear that he’d had a hard time, too, that it wasn’t just me who kept secretly struggling, even after I thought I’d gotten the hang of things.

It was confusing. I have told you about my first encounter with a Forgotten—the minotaur. Many of my fellow soldiers did not, or could not, recover from witnessing the existence of such a creature. I know at least one was driven mad by it in the end.

It wasn’t the most upbeat thing he could have said, but knowing other had struggled after discovering these monster was somewhat encouraging. It meant that freaking out was the appropriate reaction. Only heroic people like Marcus could stand unwavering in the face of the hidden world of the gods.

However, I have not had any regrets, even after the eventuality of my death. Though it jarred me to discover the truth of the universe, to stumble by complete accident upon the realm of the gods, I found a most noble purpose in the job I was called to do. That purpose has shaped me through many millennia, and I believe that it ultimately led me to you.

“I’m not sure I’m worth the two-thousand-year wait,” I murmured. My fingers traced the ornate carving on the hilt. I closed my eyes. “You don’t miss your old life?”

Perhaps I did on occasion. But I have always been a soldier. It was far from easy during my time serving the empire. Long, bloody days. And Rome was far from perfect. Serving Kronin however, I knew at least I was on the right side. And there is nothing like the righteous cause of justice to add fire to your bones.

“Fiery bones sound way less pleasant than you think.”

A life like this is not for the faint of heart. He spoke with more than a tinge of pride. It requires a constitution that many humans simply do not have. You may consider yourself unique among the denizens of the Earth, Victoria. Blessed may be the wrong choice of word, but some may call you such.

“It’s definitely nice to have a purpose beyond avenging my parents’ deaths, but I sure wouldn’t call myself blessed. Think of what we’ve seen in just the last eight hours.” The bloody imprint left by the corpse of the dead FBI officer floated around the darkness behind my eyelids, for all intents and purposes a shallow grave. “I’ve been doing crazy shit for a really long time, but sometimes all of this just, it’s heavy, you know?”

That is undeniable. It is also why this burden is only passed to the strong. I cannot say I knowingly chose you, Vic, although I wish I could. But there are times when the path seeks out the one to walk it.

“I certainly did a lot of walking today.” Cold and pervasive moisture notwithstanding, I was grateful for the rest. The bottoms of my feet had begun to ache. “Do you think we’ll be able to make up enough ground to catch this son of a bitch? Seems like he really booked it.”

Its territory is likely not very far. I assume we will encounter it again fairly soon.

I didn’t much care for fighting the beast on its own turf, but it couldn’t be helped. This was a problem in need of solving, and I was the problem-solver in residence. “So, it’s some kind of animal, then?” Calling it an animal made things seem manageable. I understood how to deal with animals.

Truth be told, I am not sure what it is. The legends say that the Forgotten are numerous in kind, and that many are unrecognizable as the beings they were before. A frown colored his next words. I believe those who would give themselves up for power are reprehensible, no better than common villains.

“Okay.” My tactic of engaging Marcus to tempt sleep was working. Unconsciousness tugged at the edge of my quieting thoughts, and I started the slow, sweet spiral down into rest.

Then everything was shattered by the unmistakable report of a gun.

I sat bolt upright, narrowly missing the top of my pitiful shelter with my head. “What was that?” Crawling out into the open, I looked in the direction of the shot. West. The way I was heading. But also reasonably far away. The echo died as I reluctantly retreated back into my box.

My stomach growled.

If you are hungry, I encourage you to hunt. The Gladius Solis would make short work of game.

It probably would have cooked it on contact, too, but I wasn’t really that hungry. I shook my head. “I’m fine.” What I didn’t tell him was that I thought if I ate, I might just puke from nerves. The phantom gunshots were not the kind of omen I needed.

But as I laid there, rest continued to elude me. Every little sound triggered my adrenaline, no matter how small. The very idea of sleep had fled from my mind. I kept my eyes wide open.

Until a flash from outside temporarily blinded me. On instinct, I ducked and covered, but I was met only by the clashing rumble of thunder. A moment later, the rain began to pour. A moment after that, I found myself soaking wet, sitting in a growing puddle.

My relationship with nature was not improving.

Sighing and futilely wiping my face with the back of my sleeve, I left my makeshift shelter and pulled the cheap poncho out of my pack, sizing it up to fit over the top of my shelter, hoping it might keep out most of the downpour.

Victoria! Be alert! Something is coming.

I snapped to attention, diving to retrieve the sword. My little house forgotten, I scoured the black night with my gaze, monitoring every approach for signs of an enemy. Now that I was listening, I could hear the twigs and branches snapping, along with the heavy, rasping breaths of an unseen monster. My heartbeat quickened, but surprisingly, I felt no fear.

Maybe because I knew exactly what to do next.

The monster charged from the thick underbrush beneath the trees, rushing me with its broad head down, its bronze eyes glowing from beneath a heavy brow. Its hunched shoulders were thickly muscled, sprouting long, sinewy arms. I leapt to the side as it barreled past me.

So much for sleeping. I guessed fighting was just as good.

The monster banked around for another pass, its feet carving a deep trench in the softened ground. I stood braced for action, trying to figure out what the hell I was looking at in the light of the sword’s blade. Like a human, it stood on two legs, and there was a deeply unsettling human quality in the burning eyes and cruel, brutal face.

But its body was doglike and covered in dark, coarse fur. The clawed paws were basically clubs with nails, capable of swinging at dizzying speeds. They were what had catapulted Deacon out of my reach when he got injured.

I set my jaw. “Let’s do this.”

Weirdly, despite its relentless aggression, the creature didn’t seem to have much of a knack for fighting. Its only tactic seemed to be a barrage of furious power, which admittedly it did well enough. It was exhausting to duck, dodge, and roll so many attacks, and I could feel my stamina fading. The pure adrenaline could only carry me so far.

The other problem was that its reach was so long, I had trouble getting close enough to even think about sneaking a hit in. It seemed to have regular flesh just like any other animal, meaning the Gladius Solis would kill it like crazy, but a step into arm’s reach was a step closer to deadly flailing claws, and I wasn’t sure I could avoid those.

So, it was a stalemate of power versus finesse until one of us slipped up.

It was me.

I stumbled on a follow-through from a failed swing, and the next thing I knew, white-hot pain seared across my side. I jumped back, yelping like a kicked puppy. When I glanced down to find the source of the pain, I saw red rivers running down my stomach and legs.

“Shit!” I shouted, mostly out of anger at myself, more than being frightened or hurt.

This bastard was going to pay for that.

Chapter Seven

The panic coursing through my system was slowly giving way to blinding rage. Gripping the Gladius Solis in both hands, I let out a roar and threw myself at the beast. The heat from the sword, which seemed to be directly correlated to my own wild energy, singed the top of my hands, but I didn’t even feel it.

All I could picture were the dead bodies back in Mormouth, the families covered in blood. The agents who died trying to protect and serve. I felt every one of their deaths and pushed that anger into the sword.

I just wanted to get my revenge.

The strike had messed up the monster’s balance, too, and it reeled a little on the edge of its feet, trying to regain its footing. I shot underneath one pinwheeling arm, leapt over the other as it swept close to the ground, and shoved my sword up toward the bulky, hairy chest. The blade plunged so deep I lost my hand in the coarse fur for a moment as I twisted the weapon for extra effect.

“Damn you… to hell!”

Crimson blood seeped out along my hands and arms, still nauseatingly warm. I withdrew the sword in a spray of red, fiercely dragging my wrist along my face to clear my vision. The monster’s gangly body started to crumple inward, appendages collapsing under their own weight. I stepped back until the thing lay in a heap on the forest floor, gasping for its last breaths. Then I came forward, so I could look it in the eye.

That was a mistake.

The broad, protruding chest heaved one more time, and then the unearthly physique changed. I watched as the body shrank into something much more recognizable to my mind’s eye.

A person. This thing was a person inside.

And I had killed her.

The vampires that fell to my blade turned to ash. The harpies shriveled up like overripe fruit. But all that remained of the creature in front of me was the naked body of a woman.

I recognized her immediately by the freckles on her face. She was the picture from the frame—the mother from Mormouth. The beast I had just fought was full of rage, a wild thing untethered. But there was no anger in her green eyes.

All I could see was fear and confusion.

“Marcus?” My question split the quiet air.

Victoria, you are hurt.

“She didn’t know what she was doing.”

You knew. And you did what you had to do. The servants of the god do not quit. They do not show mercy. Just look at what they did in that town. Just look at the wound in your side.

I nodded. What he said made sense, but all I could hear was Deacon’s voice. Nothing in their profile matched that of a killer.

“Let’s get out of here.”

I ripped the sleeves off my sweater to use for bandages as I walked in stony silence, not speaking. The wounds I had suffered at the hands of the woman ached with a dull, throbbing pain. I wished I’d kept one of the ace bandages I’d shoved in Deacon’s mouth, but my sleeves would have to do. Pausing just long enough to patch myself up as best as I could, I kept going down the rough trail. Pawprints still marred the earth in front of me, and occasionally, I thought I picked out two distinct sets.

Did that mean that she had a friend—or a mate?

What would cause someone like that to throw in with the gods? To turn on their family? It didn’t make sense.

I leaned down to get a closer look at the trail but the cut in my side throbbed. I put my hand to the wound and lightning shot through my body.

That does not look good.

“Yeah, but what are my options? Lay down and wait to bleed out or die of exposure? The only thing I can do is keep moving forward and hope I find something useful.”

I believe there is a water source nearby. Perhaps there is also a settlement that may provide you aid.

“Water would be nice.” I pressed a hand carefully to my jacked up, improvised bandages, and winced when I felt the blood starting to soak through. “Don’t think these are going to last too much longer unless I wash them out.”

The nectar will help, but you require proper medical attention, Marcus said. Your rudimentary medical knowledge may not be enough.

“Hey, I patched Deacon up all right, didn’t I?”

You purchased at least a few basic supplies for him. The sleeves of your garment are hardly the same provisions. And his wounds were hardly life-threatening.

“And mine are?”

You are strong Vic, stronger than most. But you are still human.

“True. Cross your fingers, I guess. It’d be a shame if this was the end of the line.” True to form, I retreated into the safety of gallows humor when things were looking particularly bad. I knew it wouldn’t do to be scared of what had happened—the damage had been done, and I had seen worse. I just had to keep pressing on and hope for a little extra luck.

Or any luck at all.

Marcus’s hunch about the water turned out to be spot on. The track I was following ended in a swift, narrow little river that whipped along at an impressive clip. I eased myself down onto a rock, ignoring the biting protest from my wounds, and undid the wrappings. To my eternal dismay, the cuts were not clean. The edges of my skin were ragged, and deep multicolored bruises were starting to bloom.

“Lovely. I look like a Satanic finger painting.” I dipped each bandage in the water, wrung it out, and then reapplied them. The stinging cold was almost too much to bear, but after a few seconds of agony, it actually started to feel kind of good. The dryness on my tongue tried to convince me to drink from the running water, but I thought better of it and pulled the half-full bottle from my pack. No need getting some waterborne critter in my gut.

As soon as I made sure my bootleg dressings were in place, I picked myself up and turned downstream. “Don’t know where the hell I’m going, but wherever it is, it’s not uphill.”

Try not to overexert yourself.

“Like I said, downhill.” I smiled grimly. “Downhill only. Slowly.” But I couldn’t shake the knowledge that there had been two sets of pawprints on the trail behind me and that the other creature could be anywhere. The natural urge to hurry was strong.

At least the path along the river was easy enough to navigate. A couple miles down the river, a rutted road emerged from the growth by the bank, and I latched onto it immediately. My whole lower torso felt like it was on fire, despite the fact that water still dripped from the soaked bandages. I wanted to sit down and rest my eyes for a moment, but I was too afraid I’d never get up again.

So, I kept trucking, putting one foot in front of the other.

Marcus and I didn’t speak much, but I could feel the undercurrent of his worry in the back of my mind. The wave of sweet relief that crashed over both of us when the next town came into view was indescribable. We were no longer completely in the middle of nowhere. More like nowhere adjacent.

That relief was short-lived. Walking onto the main street of town was like discovering yet another abandoned place. The earliest light of dawn was just spreading across the feathery clouds, and the town had yet to show signs of life. It did look lived-in. There were plants in windows, furnished storefronts, and a dog barked from behind a wooden fence as I went by. I saw a diner, a grocery store, a tavern, an inn, and a tiny bank.

No doctor’s office, though.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. The one thing I need, they don’t have?”

They must. A doctor is an indispensable member of any community. They would not be able to survive here without a local medic.

“Maybe they have a shaman,” I suggested dryly. “A voodoo guy. A witch doctor.”

This settlement is far too modern. Several of these homes have steel chariots in front.

“You know damn well they’re called cars by now,” I said.

Just then, I spotted a first-aid cross etched into a hanging sign above a door. My spirits fell only slightly when I got close enough to read the print underneath: Veterinary Clinic. So, they might not have painkillers for people, but I was willing to bet there were proper bandages in there somewhere—and maybe some doggie Percocet.

In the interest of politeness and knowing full well I needed to request a service, I tried knocking first. No answer. Peering in through the glass door, I saw that the interior was stocked but empty of people, all the lights off. They weren’t open yet, but I was bleeding and unsure of how long my improvisational medical arrangements would last.

I dug through my grimy, soaked backpack and came up with a straight hairpin from the very bottom, which I used to jimmy the clinic lock open. The lights came on automatically as soon as I set foot inside. After hours of walking through near total darkness, they were way too bright. I recoiled, shielding my eyes with one bare arm.

“Hello?” Footsteps approached from somewhere in the back. “Is someone there?” The voice came through a closed door, followed by the sound of bolts and chains shifting.

The door opened to reveal a woman around my age, maybe a little younger, with striking features and a truly impressive case of curly, natural bedhead. She blinked at me, her eyes moving from my face to the bobby pin in my hand, and finally to the open door at my back. “Did you pick the lock?

Rather than upset, she sounded bemused, as if she didn’t understand why I would want to do such a thing. But the inherent tension of my breaking and entering wasn’t lost on either of us.

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. It’s just…” I gestured to my injury.

Her eyes settled on the sopping, torn-off sweater sleeves wrapped around my ribcage. “Holy shit.” Instantly, her demeanor morphed into something quasi-professional. “You’d better come back here, I guess. I don’t know who you are, but I’d prefer it if you didn’t die on the floor of the clinic.” She grabbed a key off a set of hooks and used it to open yet another door. “Come on, don’t just stand there. Frankly, it seems like you’re lucky to be standing at all.”

Slightly overwhelmed by the circumstantial shift, I did as I was told. The woman was pulling a blanket out of a closet inside the room. She spread it over a chair and directed me to sit. “I’d put you on the exam table, but, uh, it’s made for dogs,” she said, somewhat apologetically. Then she knelt in front of me to examine the handiwork I’d done on myself.

“Thanks,” I offered lamely. “I’m… I’m sorry for the break in. I would’ve chosen a regular doctor’s office instead, but I couldn’t find one.”

She laughed. “Yeah, we don’t really have an established practice around here. Nearest thing is Dr. Stiegler, and he’s a traveler. He comes by a couple days a week, but in between, I handle the small stuff. So really, you came to the right place.” A frown creased her forehead. “But this isn’t exactly small. What happened to you?”

“I was attacked by a wolf in the woods.” The lie was so automatic I almost forgot it was a lie.

“Hmm,” the vet said. She snapped on a pair of gloves from a dispenser over the sink and took one of my makeshift bandages in her fingers. “I’m gonna take this off. You ready?”

I sucked in my breath. “Yeah, I promise I won’t bite.”

She peeled it away from my torn skin gently but firmly. I clamped down on my tongue. The second one wasn’t so bad, but only because everything already hurt, so all the pain blended together. My eyes watered. Nice to know the nectar hadn’t dulled my pain receptors or anything.

“When did this happen?” The vet eased me as far back into the chair as I could go and set about methodically cleaning the slashes on my ribs, just like I’d done for Deacon. The water was tough but tolerable. The alcohol made me want to die.

“A while ago,” I croaked.

“And you said it was a wolf?” Skepticism ran wild through her tone, but I could tell she wasn’t able to come up with a more feasible explanation.

“Looked like a wolf.” The burn of the alcohol finally fizzled out, and I exhaled. “Not positive. I didn’t see it too well.”

“Well, you’re lucky it happened so close to here. The next closest town is up the river to the east, and rumor has it they’ve been in a bad way as of late.”

“Yeah?” I assumed she was talking about Mormouth, but maybe she had different information.

“We used to get visitors from there every now and then. Not a lot but regular enough. I haven’t seen anyone coming from that direction in a while.” She shrugged. “There’s a lot of talk flying around, but you know how small towns are. Someone hears something, and that thing becomes something else. I don’t know. I try to stay out of all that drama. I’m just the vet, you know?”

I smiled a little. “Yeah. Are you… do you get much business?”

I didn’t know what it was about sitting in a chair while someone looked after you, but there was an undeniable urge to engage in small talk. The words sounded stupid coming out of my mouth, and yet, I was powerless to stop them.

She glanced up at me and raised an eyebrow. “I get enough. Can’t say this is my dream job, exactly, but it pays the bills. And I’ve got a lot of bills to pay.” Unrolling a length of proper bandages, she pinned them carefully in place. “Almost everyone I know thought I should have stayed in the city, but,” she sighed, “I got tired of checking up on twenty Yorkies a week. Here, at least there’s some variety. I even got a person this morning, see?”

I chuckled sheepishly. “I really am sorry. I should have just knocked louder, I guess.”

She waved me off. “I’m just glad you didn’t break the glass. Isn’t that what they normally do in the movies? Not to mention, I would have freaked out too if I was hurt like this. But you’ll be fine. And I doubt it was a wolf, by the way.”

My stomach tightened painfully. “No?”

“We have wolves around here, but they usually don’t get up close and personal with people. They aren’t the cold-blooded killers everyone thinks they are. Coyotes, on the other hand, they can be mean little bastards if they feel like it. That’s most likely what got ahold of you. Although judging by these scratches, it would have had to be a big one. These lacerations are spread pretty far apart.” She paused, gauging my wounds with the width of two of her fingers. “You might need to get some shots, but it’s hard to say for sure without the actual animal to test for rabies. Keep a very close eye on things, okay? You wouldn’t want to take any unnecessary chances.”

“Right.” I pretended to be worried, even though I knew for certain it wasn’t a coyote, and I was pretty sure it didn’t have rabies, unless it was some sort of freakish monster strain. If that were the case, I doubted any amount of shots would cure me. “Best way to find out if the critter had rabies or anything is to catch it, right?”

The vet laughed. “Sure. I mean, first thing we’d ask someone in the burbs is if they caught the raccoon, but out here in the woods, there’s no way you’re finding the wolf—or whatever it was—that did this to you.”

I looked down at my wounds and back up at her with the sincerest look of concern I could muster. “Anybody that might be able to help me track it down?”

“You’ll have to go into town for that. Try the diner maybe. It’s open all the time. You can’t miss it. It’s the only one we’ve got.” As I stood up slowly, testing my range of motion, she held out her hand. “I’m Maya. It was actually pretty nice to meet you, given the circumstances.”

We shook hands. “Vic,” I said. “Thanks for all your help. What do I owe you?”

“A favor.” Maya grinned impishly. “Stop messing with the wildlife, and I’ll consider us square.”

Chapter Eight

The morning was well underway by the time I stepped back out onto Main Street. A cold breeze lifted my hair off my neck, and I shivered, rubbing my bare arms.

“I wish this thing still had sleeves,” I muttered. “Looks like I’m gonna need some new clothes.”

The breeze persisted. I bent forward against it and trudged in the direction Maya had indicated—slowly, because the bandaged wounds still ached.

In the outdoor silence, my thoughts started up full bore again, spinning faster and faster as I attempted to make sense of the night I’d just had. “Marcus, be honest with me. Do you know anything about what’s really happening here? I mean, Teen Wolf was a Forgotten, right?”

It must have been, but you must understand, Victoria. “Forgotten” is a vast pool of gods, apprenti, and their minions. There are many facets of which I have little or no knowledge. And, parenthetically, I have no reason to believe this Forgotten was a teenager.

“Yeah. Teen Wolf. Eighties movie. Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.” I smiled to myself. In a different world, I would glue my ass to the couch and show Marcus all the important movies and shows he’d missed out on. Sadly, we didn’t have time for that. But my joke finally made the image of the beast click into a niche in my brain. The thing I killed was hairy as hell, mouth stuffed with fangs, big creepy paws.

It was a damn werewolf.

There was no mistaking it. At least I had a name to use, but that didn’t guarantee me an edge the next time I faced off against one.

“How can you know about vampires but not about werewolves?”

What is a werewolf?

A big sigh emptied my lungs. “We’ve definitely gotta make time for movie night when we get back to New York. In the meantime, you’ll just have to make do with my Sparknotes. Supernatural Human Lore 101. A werewolf is literally just a person who turns into a wolf under the influence of the full moon. But the appearance and… wolfiness… of the wolf form can vary. Like, they might seem to be a real wolf, only bigger. Or they might look like the thing we saw before. Humanoid. Two legs. Way less majestic than you’d expect. Or, like in the movie, they might score with the ladies and on the basketball court.”

I see. Is the werewolf a popular figure in human legend?

“Oh, hell yes. I’m shocked that you don’t know what I’m talking about. There have been millions of books and movies about them. The visual concept keeps changing with time.” I laughed. “My favorite is always going to be the old B-movie versions, where it’s clearly just some guy with fur and spirit gum all over his face.”

It is possible that stories from the old days remained around long enough to seep into your works of fiction. Normally, I would not place much stock in these stories, but I have to admit that some of it checks out. What causes a werewolf to occur in nature?

“I don’t know. Usually it’s a gypsy curse, I guess. Some type of magic or something. Sometimes it’s a bite from another werewolf that will do it.”

Hmm. He grunted disapprovingly. The wilder Forgotten are the least trustworthy because they are the least predictable. We must watch our backs at all times.

That, I could agree with. “Maybe the other one is still around here, or maybe it screwed off after I killed its friend.” I stubbornly ignored the possibility that the Were who was still missing might be another member of the girl’s family. “I think we should stick around this place for a while. See if anything else happens. We’re not going to find the information we need by cutting out early.”

Call me pessimistic, but I have doubts that these creatures will be open to answering questions.

“They might be, but I bet I can get some of the townspeople to run their mouths. That’s your strategy, right? Poke around, look for anything strange. There’s no way they don’t all know something is jacked up here.” Right on cue, the little diner came into view at the top of a slight rise. It was pleasantly retro, and I saw that Maya had told the truth about its hours of business. “Besides, I’m starving. It’ll be worth it just to get some grub in me.”

The bell above the door jingled on my way across the threshold, and I could practically hear everyone inside the diner turn and look at me. Despite the cheery music drifting out of a jukebox in the corner, the atmosphere was decidedly icy. At least a dozen pairs of eyes tracked my progress from the entrance to a booth in the corner. No one said a word.

Tough crowd.

After everyone else had more or less returned to minding their own business, a cute waitress who must have been in her sixties, but had the swagger of a twenty-something, made her way out from behind the counter, menu in hand. She set it down in front of me. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she said, the corners of her lips quirking upward. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing out in the middle of Bunghole, Nowhere?”

“Not much,” I lied. “I was just passing through, but, uh, I’m having some car trouble.” As in, I’d left my car in the next town over, the one that was completely abandoned. “I figured I’d stop in and at least get some breakfast.”

The waitress’s eyes sparkled. “A girl after my own heart.” She leaned down after glancing over her shoulder at the room. “Sorry about the cold welcome wagon. We’re not too used to strangers out this way.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I scanned the menu, my stomach rumbling impatiently. “Let me get eggs, scrambled, pancakes, and half a pig worth of bacon.”

The waitress laughed, slapping her faded jeans with her free hand. “I can see someone’s hungry.”

“Hungry and tired. So, I’ll drink the coffee as fast as you can bring it.”

“All right. But don’t test me. I’m fast as hell.” She winked and strode away, disappearing behind the double kitchen doors.

I leaned back and let my eyes drop closed for a moment. The ambient noise of the diner mixed with its rich, comfortingly greasy smells, and for a second, I let myself pretend that I was somewhere normal. I’d open my eyes, get my food, eat it, pay, and leave. Simple.

Instead, I opened my eyes to see some grade-A douchebag sliding into the seat across from me. He grinned out from under the brim of a beat-up baseball cap, his chin and jaw flecked with shaving nicks and missed stubble. He barely fit behind the table. I’d guess he was in his late-twenties, early thirties, but the deep wrinkles around his eyes said maybe he was older.

“Sorry, I don’t think I ordered asshole off the menu,” I said, nodding toward my waitress. “Might want to try the next table over.”

My new friend ignored me. “I’ve never seen you around here before, cutie pie.” He gestured to the small entourage that was gathering around the booth. I looked them over; they were all cut from the same dirty cloth as him. The stench of wood and tobacco permeated my nose.

I forced a fake smile. “Well, I bet most cutie pies stay away from dipshits like you and your buddies.”

Victoria, Marcus’s voice rang in my head. It was all I could do to keep from cringing. While I would normally be happy with your dressing down of this crude man in public, it might be better to ignore him for the sake of our mission.

Marcus was right, and I knew it. Just as I was about to kindly ask him to leave, the dude kept talking.

“Yeah? That’s a damn shame.” His smile widened. “A girl like you could have a lot of fun in this town with a guy like me.”

How could I not respond to that?

“A girl like me might have some fun kicking your ass up and down main street. Other than that, I think I’ll pass and go back to enjoying my breakfast.” My face was a stone mask of rejection, but the guy seemed completely immune. His friends pressed in around us, edging me back against the wall of the booth.

“Can’t a guy introduce himself?” He thumped a huge hand on his chest. “Name’s Wade, though I’m sure you woulda found that out soon enough if I hadn’t told you myself. I’m sort of a hometown hero.”

I scoffed. “Competition must not be very… stiff around here, Wade.”

His posse whooped with delight, raining playful punches down upon him. Wade laughed along, but I could see I’d pissed him off. The lines of his face hardened. His gaze flicked down over my body, lingering predictably on my chest and then on Maya’s obvious patch-up job.

“What’s a girl like you doing on her own in these woods, anyway?” he sneered. “It’s not safe to be without a big, strong man to protect you. There are monsters.”

“Really.” I wanted nothing more than to be rid of this asswipe for good, but no source of potential intelligence could be overlooked, no matter how distasteful. “I’ll tolerate your presence if you tell me more about that.”

“Knew you couldn’t resist my charms!” The sleaze just oozed off of him. I stifled my urge to puke.

“Here you go, honey.” The waitress put down my coffee mug and cast a disgruntled eye over my new tablemates. “I see the rabble’s found you.”

“Get out of here, Irma,” Wade said. Again, he acted like he was joking, but dark sincerity lurked beneath his tone. “We’re having a conversation.”

“No, we’re not,” I said. “You’re telling me about the monsters.”

“That’s what I said.” He leaned back, folding his massive arms behind his head. The rolled-up sleeves of his flannel were filled to bursting. On any other guy, I might’ve been into that, but on him, it was just annoying. I set my chin in my hand and kept my eyes from rolling in their sockets.

“Well?”

Wade guffawed. “You’re feisty. I like that in a woman. Makes her more interesting in the kitchen.”

Every single word that came out of his stupid mouth reminded me that I had a sword I could use to commit seppuku. But I was already all in on this, determined to see it through. If Wade had secrets, he was going to give them up.

“The legends go back hundreds of years,” he said. “The settlers learned ‘em from the natives. Beasts that stalk the night. Killing wherever they go.”

What is this fool prattling about? The gods returned only recently. Kronin would have dealt with any Forgotten activity in these parts.

I was inclined to agree.

“Large, hairy beasts,” he continued. Now that I got him started, there was no slowing down. “They got giant paws like this. They go by lots of names, but only one that I use.”

“What is it?”

He leaned in close and spoke low, forcing me to follow suit.

“Bigfoot.”

As he said it, he slammed the table, causing me to jump. He and his friends all started laughing, and I fought the urge to shove my big foot up his ass.

“Hey,” I shouted. “Chuckles. I’m looking for something real, not some dumbass legend.”

A gangly kid to my left piped up. He had a mop of straw-yellow hair and a smattering of acne across his face. “It’s more than a legend. I saw one just the other day. I was tracking a deer when I came across him. Big as my truck, honest. I raised my rifle, but a howl like nothing I ever heard screamed out in the distance. The thing hightailed it, leaving the deer behind all shot to shit! By which I mean that thing was torn to shreds. Think its legs were in four different townships!”

I do not know anything about this bigfooted legend, but that sounds like an apt description.

I nodded. This kid seemed earnest enough. But it was so different than the other Forgotten I fought. They were stone cold killers, true. But they killed with a purpose—their god’s purpose. Whichever god was behind this—why would they send their followers to kill deer?

“Yeah, well I saw a giant in the woods once!” another of the men said. A raucous chorus of hollering laughter rose up, causing people to look our way again. I folded my arms and sat as far back as I could, mentally washing my hands of the whole scene. I hadn’t even really gotten a chance to drink my coffee. “A regular Paul Bunyan,” the guy added. “Too bad he ran off before I could snap a picture!”

More laughter. My expression was slowly freezing into a bitter frown. This was not what I’d had in mind when I hatched the plan to gather information at the diner. As soon as my food came, I’d wolf it down and bust the hell out. Nothing would keep me in there for a second longer than I needed to be. Especially not after Wade started to reach across the table toward me. I got ready to break his fingers.

“Hey!” This voice was markedly distinct from the others: old, but strong and sharp. A white head appeared in the sea of caps and balding domes. “Why don’t you dogs get along down the road now? Find a different yard to shit in.”

“Screw off, Smitty,” Wade growled.

“Me? You’re the one stinking up the place. People are trying to eat.” Smitty was thick and durable, strictly no-nonsense. He had pushed his way into the middle of Wade’s repulsive posse and stared each of them down individually with unyielding grey eyes. The goons began to disperse, mumbling curses under their breath. Smitty turned to the ringleader. “Go on. Get.”

To my surprise, Wade obeyed, albeit grudgingly. He shot one last dirty look over his broad shoulder as he slunk out of the building.

I blew out my breath, sitting back up. “Thanks.”

The man called Smitty shrugged one shoulder. He didn’t exactly smile, but some of the brusqueness left his face. “Wade’s nothing but trouble, you understand?” he asked gruffly. “Steer clear of him. Thinks he still owns the place, but he’s just the village idiot.”

I snorted. “That much is clear. Still, I owe you one for getting him to split.”

The waitress reappeared with a steaming breakfast plate for me. “Don’t think anything of it, sweet pea. Smitty’s always taking out the trash around here. That’s what we pay him for.”

Smitty grunted. “Woman, you couldn’t pay me enough for this bullshit.”

“You’re welcome to take a seat if you want,” I said. “I’m on my own this morning. Waiting for some car trouble to get resolved.”

He eyed me keenly. “This is a pretty unlucky place to be having car trouble. Maybe I can take a look at it after you’re done with your meal. I’m a blacksmith by trade, but I can be handy with an engine.”

Uh oh. My bluff was dangerously close to being called. How to explain that the car, a luxury vehicle that was plainly beyond my means, currently sat on a dead-end road just outside Mormouth?

But before I had to double down on my web of lies, someone else came bursting through the diner door. I glanced up, mouth full of pancakes. The diner went eerily silent.

“There’s a body by the river,” the messenger announced breathlessly. “Just turned up. It looks bad.”

A murmur rippled through the room, and a moment later, everyone was getting out of their seats. I looked down at my half-eaten breakfast, put my fork down, and joined the tide pouring out into the street.

The old familiar paranoia set in fast. What if someone had already located the woman? What if they recognized her? What if a whole investigation began into her murder?

I fell in behind Smitty and followed along, chewing my lip. Right now, surrounded by the bulk of the town, would be the worst possible time to be exposed as a murderer. I had a feeling these people might not be too receptive to the werewolf idea, particularly if the body belonged to a seemingly normal person.

If they found me out, I was in deep trouble.

Chapter Nine

The milling throng grew as we traipsed down the road and then cut over into the tree line, heading in a direction I remembered vaguely. Voices churned around me, full of excitement, anxiety, and skepticism.

I gathered that murders and unusual deaths were rare, that the discovery of a corpse was a macabre occasion. Hence, what seemed like the whole damn town turned out to see.

By the time we stopped moving, I couldn’t see to the edge of the crowd. The people around me jostled for position, craning their necks to see over their neighbors’ heads. No one noticed me anymore until I pushed my way toward the front. There were mild protests, but I didn’t listen. My business there was far more important than their simple curiosity.

The body lay on the bank of the river, its lower half in the rushing water. From a distance, I could see that the death hadn’t been easy—deep scratches gouged most of the flesh, and the arms seemed to end in little more than pale stumps. But there was no blood; all of that was gone.

“Vamps?” I whispered to myself. Had they managed to migrate north from Palo Alto, however many were left in the aftermath of Silas Monk’s death, to prey on unsuspecting backwoods communities? If they’d been excommunicated from the mob, then it might make sense for the ugly pricks to try and eke out a living somewhere removed. Or maybe they were trying to recruit more Forgotten, and this meeting just happened to go tits-up.

Either way, this body did not belong to the werewolf girl I’d killed, and that was what mattered most. It was, however, still someone I knew. The clean cut across the shoulder gave it away as belonging to the beast that had attacked Deacon in Mormouth. A little thrill of pride swelled in my chest. I knew I’d landed a hit. And now it was dead.

But it wasn’t a werewolf anymore, and that continued to make me extremely uncomfortable. I was looking down at the mangled remains of a regular man who’d undergone a radical transformation. In some ways, it was almost good that he was unrecognizable. It kept me from ascribing too much humanity to a thing I knew for sure had been a monster the last time we met.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” someone said. “Let’s back it up and move along now. Nothing more to see.” The words were too practiced to be coming from anyone other than an accredited official, so I sped up my analysis of the scene, kneeling down in the mud to examine the body for any subtle signs of vamp activity.

Unfortunately, the guy’s throat had been raggedly slit, all but obscuring the most tell-tale indicator. I supposed it would have been too easy that way. I got back to my feet just as a portly officer stepped free of the slowly dissolving crowd.

“Sir,” I said, a little tightly. The badge pinned to his front pocket said Sheriff on it and so did his ambling walk and kind, mustached face. He did not look like he was equipped to be dealing with this type of thing.

He raised his bushy eyebrows. “And who might you be, young lady?” Even his voice was painfully benevolent, more like a grandfather than an officer of the law. “Is there a reason for you to be trespassing on a crime scene?”

Shit. I opened my mouth without a good answer and was miraculously saved yet again.

“Sheriff Rosewood, I can vouch for her.” Maya came up, adjusting her coat and catching her breath. “She’s fine. I treated her for an injury at my clinic this morning. I suspect she just thought the attack might have something to do with the animal she encountered earlier.” Maya looked at me to signal that I should agree with her.

I nodded. “That’s right, sir. I apologize if I’ve stepped out of line. I was just curious.”

The sheriff put his hands on his hips and sighed, casting a deeply forlorn look over toward the body. “I guess I can’t blame you. A sight so grisly shouldn’t be for anyone’s eyes, that’s all.”

Maya jumped in again. “Let me take in the body. We’ll put it in the clinic so it’s not just out in the open like this. I’ll take a look and see if I can’t figure out what happened here.”

I blinked. Now she was the coroner, too? “Not that I don’t trust or believe in you, but shouldn’t it go to a hospital or a medical examiner’s office? We were just talking about how you’re a small-town vet.”

“I’m the only choice we have. The storms we’ve been getting washed out the roads in and out of town, so as far as medical expertise goes,” she spread her arms, “you’re looking at it.”

I glanced at Sheriff Rosewood, who didn’t appear to be even a little perturbed. He just nodded and began to direct the removal of the corpse. “I’ll have to ask you to move back now,” he said to me with a note of apology in his tone. “We need to secure the scene.”

“Aww, don’t you worry, Sheriff!” I cringed at Wade’s brash, grating voice. Maya’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head. “Me and my boys’ll find the rat bastard and be dragging it through the streets before tomorrow morning.”

I thought of the term Smitty had used to describe Wade—village idiot. Never had a phrase been more apropos. “That’s a dumb idea,” I said out loud, turning to face him.

A brief, dark frown crossed Wade’s face before he recovered his composure. “Hey, Diner Girl,” he said. “Thought I told you it wasn’t safe to be out here. You need to work on those listening skills.”

My hand itched to form a fist and go flying into his giant, smug face. “You can’t just hunt it. What if it’s got rabies?” It was the first excuse I thought of, and it wasn’t very impressive. I could tell right away it hadn’t had any impact. Wade stared at me for a moment before he busted up laughing with his crew.

“I’m not gonna make out with it, sweetheart,” he said between gasps. “I’m just gonna send that thing straight to hell. If it’s got rabies, it can give it to the devil for all I care.” He elbowed his friend. “You see this chick, thinking she’s gotta warn me about rabies?” Wade smiled. “Your concern is real sweet, but I promise I can take care of myself. We’re not all girls here.”

He pulled back his jacket to flash a gun longer than my forearm, holstered at his hip. Giving me a toothy grin, he said, “Around here, we call this a problem solver.”

I raised a brow. “Where I come from, we call that compensating.”

“Now, now,” the sheriff said, trying to stifle a laugh. “Last thing we need is more trouble.”

I needed to figure out a way to delay him so that I could get to the Were first. All their idiotic bravado aside, Wade and his friends stood absolutely zero chance against a Forgotten—any of them. I would’ve been surprised if their shitty guns did anything except piss the thing off. If I didn’t beat them to it, the mess and the body count was only going to grow. Plus, catching one of these things alive was my best chance at figuring out where they came from.

“You don’t understand,” I persisted, against my better judgement. “You can’t kill this thing, okay? Trust me on this. You’re the ones who are going to be dragged through the mud.”

Anger lingered in Wade’s face a bit longer this time. “All right, it’s getting less cute the more you talk, girlie. I’m gonna go ahead and suggest you leave this to the big boys. Run along now.” He turned on his heel and strode back toward the road, his flunkies following in quick succession like a tribe of asshole ducklings.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. A whopper of a headache was germinating behind my right eye, but I no longer had time to waste. The body, covered in a tarp, trundled past me on a gurney. Yellow tape was going up around the spot where it had lain on the bank.

Things were moving on, which meant I had to as well. I took a deep, stabilizing breath and struck out toward the road myself.

The diner was slowly filling back up as I reclaimed my seat in the corner. No sign of Wade, which was excellent. He had probably gone home to get ready for his little monster-hunting expedition. I took the reprieve from his presence to scarf down the last of my cold eggs and drain my coffee mug. When I paid my bill, I asked Irma the waitress if she knew of anywhere local I could stay. I had a feeling I was going to be around for a few more days.

“There’s an inn just on the other side of us,” she said, signaling with her thumb. “Tell them I sent you, and you’ll likely get a nice discount.”

Fifteen minutes after exiting the diner for the second time, I sat on the bed at the inn up the street, fighting the urge to drop on the mattress and get some much-needed rest. My brain struggled to organize a list of things to do: get supplies, find a map, pick up some new clothes. And all in a limited amount of time. I couldn’t let that dumbass and his band of merry men screw everything up for us. “Hey, Marcus. What do you think about the body?”

I am still working that out myself. It is certainly not a normal death, but I am having trouble visualizing an attack that would leave those results.

“Yeah,” was all I could manage. Maybe I had just expected the body to look even worse, given the way I’d seen other victims treated by the werewolves. “I don’t get any of this. We need some answers.”

You must move quickly. Our best hope of understanding lies at the bottom of this mystery surrounding the most recent corpse.

“Right. And our friend Wade is hellbent on screwing it all up.” I heaved a sigh and pushed myself onto my feet. “Let’s get going. I need some damn sleeves.”

Chapter Ten

Across the street from the inn, I found a general store in the truest sense of the word, with everything from bullets to snowshoes for sale inside. It was manned by a teenage girl with a haircut too slick for the town she was in. She had her booted feet up on the counter, and I saw a smoldering butt in the ashtray by her heel.

“G’morning,” she said as I walked in, stifling a yawn. Then her interest piqued. “New in town?”

“Been getting a lot of that today,” I muttered. “Yeah. I was trying to just be passing through.”

“Aren’t we all?” She sat back again. “Can I help you with something, or are you just looking around?” Her sharp, inquisitive eyes took in my ripped-up, bloody sweater. “Jeez, what kind of hell did you go through to get here?”

I gave her a look. “Don’t ask. I’m fine. But I could use a new wardrobe.”

The girl laughed. “Not much I’d exactly call a ‘wardrobe’ here, but be my guest.” She waved toward the back of the store and went back to thumbing through a magazine.

I headed to the clothes racks and rifled through the sweaters and outerwear, looking for something basic and warm, but not too warm. She was right, of course. Nothing off the rack would look like it came from a shop in SoHo, but fashion was the least of my concerns. The boots stood in a neat line on their own shelf, and I chose a pair of those, too. Mine were starting to wear through the soles so that the wet ground soaked into my socks. I was getting tired of squishing everywhere I went.

The girl looked at my choices as I laid them out in front of her. Then she looked at me. “It’s okay. I went through a goth phase, too. You’ll get over it.”

I smiled. “A lot of goths up here in the woods?” I asked, moments before realizing that everything I’d chosen was pitch black.

The girl took a drag from her hand-rolled smoke. “Not nearly enough.”

“I just need stuff that’ll keep me dry and warm in the woods.”

“Well, then you want those boots.” She pointed to a different pair on the shelf. “And that coat. They’ve both got a thermal lining and a waterproof seal. Costs a little more, but if you’re really gonna be dicking around in the woods, it’s worth it.”

She spoke with such plain honesty that I took her word for it, exchanging my stuff for her recommendations. “Do you have rope?” I asked upon returning to the counter. “And maybe some traps?”

The girl frowned. Her expertly layered bangs fell into her face, and she blew them back automatically. “You’re not a trapper, are you? That’s illegal around here unless you got a special permit. We don’t sell traps without seeing a permit.” She pointed toward the back wall. “Rope’s over there. We’ve got a million different kinds. Take your time, and feel free to ask if you have questions. Lord knows I’m not doing anything else up here.”

I was poring over ropes when Wade strutted into the store. Much to my chagrin, he was already at the register when I came back with my selection. “Fancy meeting you here, Diner Girl,” he said expansively. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were following me. Not that I could blame you.” I glared at him. He looked at the rope in my hands. “What’s that for? Wouldn’t have guessed you were into the 50 Shades shit.”

“Don’t be a pig, Wade.” The register girl took the rope from me and put it with the rest of my things.

Wade sneered. “Playing outdoorsman, are you?

“Outdoorsperson. Dickwad.” I shot the girl a look, and she passed me a smile back. Finally, someone on my team.

He ignored me. “Gonna go out in the woods and pretend you can hunt? What are you looking for, huh? Bunny rabbits? Squirrels?”

“Bigger than that.” I stared straight ahead, all but ignoring him.

“Oh, what, you think you’re gonna find whatever hell beast is leaving a trail of bodies behind?” A short, barking laugh broke out from behind his shark’s teeth. “You’ll get ruined out there all alone. I tried to warn you.” He scoffed. “I told you not to worry about it. My crew and I have got this in the bag.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” I told him.

“Well, you’re in luck. You’re gonna be seeing a lot of this.” He dropped a box of twelve-gauge slugs on the counter. “One last piece of advice for you, little lady. You better stay the hell out of my way. Wouldn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to you while you’re playing pretend in the woods.”

“Is that a threat?” I kept my voice flat. “Because if it is, you’re going to have to do better. I’ve had more intimidating yoga instructors.”

Wade slapped a bill down and snatched his ammo up with one of his giant mitts. His lip curled. “Think you’re so damned funny, Diner Girl. We’ll see who’s laughing tomorrow.”

“Spoiler alert: it’ll still be me.” I brushed past him, stepping up to the register, and listened to his heavy bootsteps stomping from the store.

The cashier grinned. “I gotta tell you, there aren’t too many people ‘round here who can stand up to Wade like that. Keep it up, and you’ll become a local legend.” She rang up the items, then punched in a code. “Just for that, I’m giving you my employee discount.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I hoped I didn’t sound ungrateful. It was just kind of weird to be getting a break from a kid so much younger than me.

“Already did it.” She counted the money I gave her with impressively swift precision and popped it in the drawer. While she made my change, she said, “You know, though, Wade’s a huge asshat, but he’s not totally wrong. It’d be a terrible idea to try to do whatever you’re doing all by yourself.” She hesitated. “What are you doing, anyway?”

I weighed my options in my head. This kid couldn’t possibly be older than eighteen, but she’d already seen enough back and forth between me and Wade to know something was up. And she was definitely the type to sniff out a suspected lie on her own time. I recognized the blaze of intelligent rebellion in her eyes.

She reminded me a little bit of my younger self. Maybe that was why I ultimately decided to run my mouth.

“Look.” I pulled up what was left of my sweater and pointed at the bandage job I’d gotten from Maya. “See this? Maya thinks it was a coyote, but I have reason to believe it was the same thing that killed the guy they just found in the river. And I want to get my hands on it before Wade and his dumbshit posse find it.”

She cocked her head to the side. “How come?”

“I’ve got my reasons.”

“Ah.” She bagged up my things. “Well, I gave you a discount, and now I’m going to cut you an even better deal. Let me help you track this thing down. I guarantee I’ll find it faster than those jerkoffs.”

The doubtful look was on my face before I even had time to think about it. “You?”

“The hell does that mean? Yeah, me. I guess I don’t look like much, but I’m the best tracker this sorry little town has ever seen. Miles better than Wade or any of his cronies. Those dipshits couldn’t track a drunk to the local liquor store.”

I folded my arms. “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” she snapped.

“Bullshit,” I said through a grin.

“Okay. Seventeen. And my name is Amber. Thanks for asking.” She pushed the bag across the counter and mimicked my stance, watching me defiantly, daring me to turn her offer down.

“Not a chance. If this thing is what I think it is, I’m not putting you out in those woods. Not to mention you’re young as hell and somebody’s kid.”

“And you’re not?”

“I’m twelve years older than you. And no, I’m not anyone’s kid anymore.”

Amber sucked in her breath. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

I have to admit I sort of baited her into that one. I’d learned over the past five years that mentioning my dead parents was a guaranteed way to shut down virtually any unwanted conversation. A shitty move that I mostly reserved for sleazy men at happy hour, even though it worked every time. But it was unfair, and I immediately felt guilty.

I waved her apology off. “Don’t worry about it. That was a shit move.” I sighed. “It’s just, it’s complicated. I don’t want you getting caught in the middle of something you’re probably not going to understand.” She opened her mouth, and I kept talking. “I’m not saying that because you’re a teenager. I’m being honest. This is out of everyone’s league. Including mine.”

She gazed at me evenly. “Then what the hell are you doing here?”

We held unwavering eye contact for thirty seconds, inviting either a challenge or a truce. Finally, I dropped my arms and picked up the bag. “Call me Vic. You swear you’re good at hunting?”

Amber beamed. “Of course I am. I might be a kid, but I don’t screw around like the others. Also, I can tell when someone’s getting desperate.”

I arched my brows. “How’s that?”

“You came to the general store, for one. The kind of stuff you’re buying, it would be easier to go into the nearest city and hit a big box store. More choices, maybe better quality, cheaper prices. But you’re here acting like you don’t have that kind of time because the roads out, and whatever trail Wade is on is too hot for you not to follow. Even for a day or two.”

Smart kid. Maybe too smart.

“Not bad,” I acknowledged. “Be ready at dusk. That’s when we leave.”

“Nice.” Amber shot me a smirk and a thumbs-up. “Why don’t you just swing by here? I’ll be waiting.”

I left the general store, and Marcus finally piped up.

You just recruited a child to a war. Are you mad, Victoria?

“How old were you when you first marched into battle, Centurion?”

Thirteen, his voice dripped with pride. But I was not—

“Oh, hell no. You’re not going to say ‘a girl.’” Marcus wisely stayed quiet. “And besides, I can’t pretend we don’t need help, all right? She knows this place approximately a thousand times better than I ever will. If she’s down with it, it beats getting lost, killed, and/or humiliated by that prick and his garbage friends.”

I guess there were plenty of women her age who were completely capable of handling themselves in the days of the Roman Empire.

“Damn straight.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’d feel a lot better if we could find a way to cop an advantage here. Those werewolves aren’t playing.” I hadn’t quite been able to scrub the images of the bodies from my mind.

Beware of placing too much trust in legends, Marcus warned. Modern humans have a way of causing more harm than good by believing fictions are the truth. That way lies inevitable disappointment and failure. You must continue to trust in the almighty power of Kronin’s blade. It will carry you through every trial.

I stopped dead in my tracks as an idea popped into my head. “Maybe, but it never hurts to be extra prepared, right?” My head swiveled, surveying our direct surroundings. “That means we need silver. Where would we get silver?” Turning in a circle in an attempt to get my bearings, I spotted a map tacked up on the board hanging on the outside wall of the general store. “Hold up.”

Our current location was marked by a dot, and I could see icons indicating the diner, the post office, even Maya’s clinic. On the very edge of town, just below the bold scribble of the forest, was a horseshoe.

I checked the map legend: BLACKSMITH.

“Here,” I said, tapping it with my finger. “I think we’re good to go.”

Chapter Eleven

The blacksmith’s shop sat in the shade of a small copse extending from the forest proper. An open shed housed a set of bellows beside a rustic, hulking furnace which was in the process of belching smoke. All kinds of shiny pieces of metalwork littered the space, including strange twisted hunks of steel. It was like a mix between a hipster bar and a torture hut.

“Hello?” I called, stepping up onto the flagstone floor. “Anyone home?”

“In the back,” a man answered. “Be right with ya.” There was a doorway leading to what looked like a supply room. I waited, inspecting the quality of the workmanship.

A talented artisan, Marcus observed. I had assumed such skill had become obsolete among modern humans.

Frankly, I was surprised too, but pleasantly. I just hoped this blacksmith would have what I needed.

In a few minutes, the owner of the disembodied voice emerged from the back room, and I recognized him immediately. It was the old man who’d driven Wade out of the diner. “Well! Didn’t take you long to find me in my natural habitat, did it?” he said. “How can I help you, madam?”

This is a foolhardy plan, Victoria. The familiar note of suspicion crept into Marcus’s voice. Your werewolves are creatures born of fairy tales. Do not put stock in simple lore.

I tugged at the chain to get him to shut up. In this instance, his professional opinion didn’t matter so much to me. By admitting that he knew little to nothing about these creatures, he had forfeited all right to intellectual superiority. Teenage me always wanted to be a werewolf hunter, and there were rules to follow. Everybody knew that.

This time, we were doing it my way.

“I have kind of a strange request,” I began.

Smitty stopped examining the newly forged blade on the anvil and straightened up to look at me. “Those’re my favorite kind.” His eyes twinkled. “Fire away.”

“Do you have silver?”

He eyed me keenly. “Sure do. Where do you think this town gets its name?” I stared at him blankly for a second until a wide grin crossed his face. “You’ve managed to find your way to our little town, but you don’t know the name, do ya?”

I shrugged. “Didn’t exactly arrive via conventional methods.”

He nodded wisely. “I reckon there ain’t much conventional about you. And welcome to Silver Banks, by the way.”

“Seriously?” I asked.

“Always,” he said with a grin. “But to be fair, it’s been a long time since anyone was digging up silver around here. I do keep some in stock for special occasions, though.”

“Can you make a knife out of it?”

A smile twitched to life in the depths of his beard. “Knife is a broad term. What kind of blade are we talking here?”

“Um.” I reached down and grabbed an eight-inch blade from his table. “About like that would be good, I think. But I need it to be functional, not decorative.”

He gave me that strange look again. “You want a functional silver dagger. Planning on attending some high-class knife fights?”

“Something like that.” I frowned, suddenly worried. “It’s not too big a job, is it?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to?” he asked, chuckling. “Frankly, it will give me a nice break from my normal fare, hammering out coat racks and bannisters. If you want it to be functional, I’d recommend making it silver tipped rather than silver all the way through. And it’ll take a couple days to make it right. You planning on hanging around a while?”

“Yeah.” I tapped my fingers on the edge of the low wall. “I’m waiting on some other stuff, too. I’m sure I’ll be here a few more days, at least.”

Smitty nodded. “That’s good. Be careful if you go out near the woods, though, you understand? There’s some strange stuff happening out there.” He cast his eyes out toward the black line of the forest, his expression unreadable.

“You mean like the body in the river?” I asked, keeping my voice casual. I hadn’t had the chance to talk to Smitty about it yet, but he must have had something to say.

“Yeah.” He turned his gaze on me again searchingly. “Just like that.” Clearing his throat, he went back to the blade cooling on the anvil. “Got a phone number? I’ll let you know when your order’s ready.”

“Oh, sure.” I gave him my cell phone number. “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.” I also appreciated his lack of probing questions. “If you need to find me for whatever reason, I’m staying at the Dark Horse Inn.”

Smitty shook his grizzled head. “Inn’s a waste of money if you ask me. They hike up the prices real high because visitors come so seldom to our little town.” He hefted a hammer. “Tell you what. I got a room up top in the house back there. If you’re interested, it’s yours for cheaper than you’re dishing out now.”

I thought about it for a few seconds. “Okay, sure. I’m all for saving a little money.” Plus, it struck me as a good idea to be as close to the forest as possible, just in case. “Can I move my stuff over right now?”

“You can do whatever you like,” Smitty said. “This way, I can keep a better eye out for that scoundrel Wade Stevens if he comes sniffing around for you again. Rotten apple full of bad seeds, that kid. If he’s picking on you, it’s always better to have someone watching your back.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Smitty. I owe you one. What’s his deal, anyway? Does he just enjoy treating other people like shit?”

Smitty scratched his beard. “It’s a bit of a story, that. Go get your stuff, and I’ll give you a town history lesson when you get back.”

I was still smiling as I trotted back down the path toward the main street. Yeah, this town was screwed up in a major way, but it wasn’t all bad. I liked the idea of a cozy home environment, even if it was only for a day or two. And even if it stood in stark contrast to the work I’d be doing at night with the blade Smitty was making for me.

My life was always going to be full of glaring contradictions. It felt like I had finally begun to come to terms with that.

I must reiterate my reservations, Victoria. This plan seems both unnecessary and expensive. The Gladius Solis is more than equipped to dispatch these monsters.

“Oh, relax. I know you’re probably right, but I want to indulge for once. If I’m going to be stuck doing this crap for a while, I might as well have a little fun with it. I promise the glowy fire sword isn’t going to rust from disuse.”

It is immune to physical degradations. And verbal ones.

“Come on, Marcus. You know I love Kronin’s sword.” I ran up the steps to the inn and took the carpeted stairs two at a time. “I just want to see if this works. And don’t worry, okay? The job’s gonna get done either way.”

Very well. If you insist, then I hope this indulgence brings you joy and success.

“Thank you.” I picked up my meager belongings, made sure the door locked behind me, and turned my key in at the desk. Then I retraced my steps back to the smithy at the edge of the trees. The furnace was roaring, tossing sparks out into the cool air. Smitty poked at the fire. I waved.

“House is down that path right there.” He raised his voice to be heard over the flames. “Door’s open; go ahead and let yourself in. Your room’s at the top.”

The short path beside the smithy opened on a scenic clearing that contained an equally impressive house, a three-story vision handmade of wood and stone. Wisps of smoke curled from the high chimney, and inside, the smell of wood smoke filled the rooms. I carried my stuff up to the bedroom a half-step up from the third floor and opened the door.

To the part of my heart that had always fantasized about wiping the slate clean and running away, it was love at first sight. I adored the steep slant of the ceiling and the tall, narrow window with a seat built in, looking out on the glen below. The mattress sank luxuriously beneath my weight and the thick down comforter. It was a damn shame I wouldn’t get to sleep in it that night.

I stared through the window at the long green grass. “I think I could live here if it weren’t for all the damn werewolves.”

Better than your magnificent city?

“Well, that’s hard to say, I guess. The people are, well, a little different.”

True. They would never be accused of being cosmopolitan. But the pastoral landscape can shape one into the salt of the earth.

“Wade seems salty enough.” My eyes scanned the low-hanging boughs of the treeline beyond Smitty’s yard. “But in some ways, hell yeah, it’s better than the Big Apple. There are so many stars out here, it’s crazy. The air is like, actually breathable. I can sleep without a million horns in the background.”

I would think it is too quiet for you.

I chuckled wryly. “Yeah. I’ve been getting into trouble for so long, I’m almost addicted to it now.”

The quiet contemplation lasted until I heard the front door open downstairs and Smitty’s heavy work boots walking over the floor. I went down to meet him, eager for him to make good on his promise of a local history lesson.

Though it was impossible to pretend that shit wasn’t getting immeasurably more real as time passed, there was something infinitely more satisfying about the way this particular mission was playing out. I felt like I was genuinely unraveling some big important mystery, not just running from breadcrumb to breadcrumb, always a step behind the bad guys.

“How’re the accommodations?” Smitty asked without turning around. He had taken off his hat, revealing a wild, mountain-man mane of thick white hair. “To your liking, I hope?”

“This whole house is incredible. Did you build it?”

That made him turn just to grin at me. A gold tooth winked from the back of his mouth. “With my own two hands. That was the best summer of my life.” He took a mug off the rack above the counter. “Coffee? This batch is nice and strong. Been sitting in the pot for a couple hours.”

“Absolutely.” I took a seat at his sturdy kitchen table. He brought two mugs, a sugar bowl, and a little metal pitcher full of cream. “I really can’t thank you enough, Smitty. This is so generous of you.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe this isn’t something you want to hear, but I’m looking after you the way I’d want someone to look after my daughter if she were in your place.” He glanced away. “I’ve got a granddaughter now. She’s all I have left. I think she might finish growing up to be a little like you.” We were both silent for a moment. He cleared his throat. “But you didn’t come here to listen to me talk about just anything, did you? You want the primer on Wade Stevens.”

“Not that I think he’s extremely significant in any way,” I clarified. “I just want to know why he thought he could get up in my business this morning.”

Smitty stroked his beard. “Should come as no surprise to you that this was a logging town, once upon a time. It was founded by a group of pioneers over a hundred years ago who basically cut a hole in the forest and decided to set up shop. One of those founding fathers was a guy named Ezekiel Stevens. Wade’s great, great granddad.

“The long and short of it is that Wade’s family started out with a whole mess of money, but as it turns out, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree. Wade’s daddy was a scoundrel, and so was his granddad, and probably so was his granddad’s granddad. They wasted their whole fortune on stupid, greedy shit. Gambling, mostly, but they got swindled a time or two to boot. Nothing left in those coffers now except false confidence and shame.”

“Whoa.” I sipped my coffee and added another lump of sugar—he wasn’t kidding about its strength. “Do people know this, or do they let him get away with acting like an ass because they still think he’s rich?”

Smitty laughed. “Oh, no, everyone knows what happened to the Stevens clan. Wade’s the one who acts like his family legacy isn’t all torn up to hell. Maybe he doesn’t think it is. I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t know he’s dirt poor. If so, it’s gonna be a real nasty shock to his system after his old man finally kicks the bucket.” He shook his head. “He’s got dreams of rebuilding, you know? Reliving his family’s glory days. But as long as he keeps drinking his money, that won’t happen anytime soon.”

I scowled. “Who would want it to? The guy’s an enormous dick. Sounds like the town’s better off without him on top of the food chain.”

“Undoubtedly. But that doesn’t mean much if he doesn’t agree.” Smitty took a long pull of his coffee, which was undiluted black. “He’s gonna get himself in real hot water someday. He’ll be lucky if it doesn’t cook him alive.”

I gazed down into the depth of my mug, wondering if Smitty’s last couple of statements were actually directed at me. Did he suspect what I was up to, chasing dangerous creatures around here? I had ordered a silver blade after all.

Talking to Smitty was a little like I’d imagined talking to my own father would be if he were still around. A lot of the things Smitty said to me, I had no trouble hearing in my dad’s voice. It made me sad, but also grateful that I had the chance to sit at this man’s table and talk with him a while.

“Wade’s totally unredeemable, huh?”

“Getting to look that way. But who knows? Maybe no one is outside of the possibility of redemption.” Smitty looked straight at me. “Don’t forget what I said about being careful. That knife won’t be done for a couple days, at least. You might think you know what’s lurking out there, but the world is full of surprises, even when you think you’ve seen it all.”

“Don’t I know it,” I muttered. “I’ll watch my step, Smitty. And if I totally screw myself over, I’ll be sure to give you a call.”

“Heh.” He drank again and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “Well, I don’t know what kind of help I’ll be to you at this age, but I can sure try.” He pushed his chair back. “I better get back to work. You take care of yourself.”

Upstairs, the window showed me lengthening shadows in the glade. I looked at the clock. Still an hour or two before dusk hit—just enough time for a quick nap to take the edge off. I needed to be on high alert for the upcoming expedition.

Especially if I had Amber in tow.

Chapter Twelve

The sun had just dipped below the horizon when I woke up, its light beginning to bleed streaks of color across the sky. I hopped out of bed, slipped into my gear, and left with the length of rope and the Gladius Solis tucked into the giant pockets of my new jacket. Smitty was nowhere to be seen as I hit the trail back toward town. I counted that as lucky; this wasn’t something I wanted to discuss with him. He had told me to be careful.

I was being as careful as I could. Which is to say, not very.

Night fell fast as hell in that little Pacific Northwestern town. I half expected the sidewalk in front of the general store to be deserted, but there was Amber leaning on the door, picking her teeth and looking like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Hey, you made it,” she said, flicking the toothpick away. “I was kind of afraid you’d bail on me.”

“Nah. I can admit when I need the help.”

She leaned down and hoisted something that clattered. “Then you’re doing better than most of the people in this miserable place.” Noting my interest in her cargo, she lifted it higher to show it to me. A couple of fierce bear traps with teeth as long as my hand dangled from an iron bar. “Snagged these for us on my way out. Figured they might come in handy.” The girl grinned. “Don’t give me that look. I said I couldn’t sell them to you, and I’m not selling them.”

I led her down the road toward the spot where the corpse had been recovered from the river. “I hope you’re not getting yourself in trouble for my sake.”

“Not any more than I’d get into by myself,” she answered.

I ran a hand over my face. “I forgot this was what teenagers are like.”

“Aww, come on. You don’t have to keep pretending like you’re not missing your youth. I won’t judge you, I swear.”

My eyes rolled intensely. “I’m only twenty-nine.”

“Right. That’s like, almost thirty. You could practically be in a museum.”

She was lucky she’d brought those traps.

We set up the first one in the thick brush by the river in case anything decided to revisit the presumed site of the attack. Then we lugged the second trap downstream, doubled back, and parked ourselves within earshot of both. “You’ll hear ‘em if they pop, don’t worry,” Amber said. “Those things aren’t stealth machines, and you can bet whatever wanders into them isn’t gonna keep its mouth shut.”

Just hanging out in the open made me uneasy. I found a tree with a big comfy fork in it and directed her to climb. Not too high, but high enough to give us some kind of advantage if we were surprised by an enemy. Amber scampered up into the branches like a natural born squirrel. That was when I noticed she had a gun strapped to her leg.

“What is that?” I asked as soon as I’d situated myself across from her.

She gave me a brief, confused look before brightening. “It’s my gun. You didn’t think I’d come trekking out here without it, did you? I was born here. I know better than that.”

I wasn’t a huge fan of the fact that she was packing heat.

“You’re making a face,” Amber said. “Trust me. It’s all good. It’s my gun, and I know what I’m doing.” The grin reappeared. “This isn’t even the only gun I have. So relax. It’s not like I can go home and put it away now anyway.”

A sigh escaped me. “Okay. Got it. I’ll try to be less weird about how young you are.”

Amber picked a leaf off the branch and dropped it, watching it float to the ground in the vanishing dusk. “Honestly, you’re still doing a ton better than almost everyone I know. Nobody even thinks about taking me seriously here, except Pops. Most of the town is populated by idiot, hypermasculine bros who think I’m just some stupid little girl.”

“I feel that on a spiritual level,” I said. “Who’s your Pops?”

Her smile this time was softer, a different kind of genuine. “His name’s Smitty. He owns the blacksmith shop at the southernmost end of town. He’s been taking care of me since I was a kid.”

It took all my concentration not to let my jaw unhinge from my face. So not only was I directly defying Smitty’s sage advice, I was also endangering the granddaughter he had recently described as the only thing he had left. My stomach tied in knots.

“Funny you should mention that,” I started awkwardly. “He offered me the room he’s renting on the top floor of your house. I just put my stuff in there a few hours ago.”

“Hey, cool! Does that mean you’re staying for a while?” Amber’s whole face lit up.

“Maybe. Depends on how things go.”

“Man, sometimes I wish I could swing the drifter life.” Amber leaned back against the sturdy bough and sighed dreamily. “Not having to put down roots anywhere or bog myself down with too many possessions. Just pack my shit up whenever I wanted and hit the road. I think that would be the life, at least for a while.”

“It has its advantages, although there are worse places to grow up than Silver Banks.” I knew what it was like to go stir crazy in my hometown, even when that hometown had eight million people in it.

“I mean, the location is fine. It’s idyllic, the climate’s okay, I like rain. That part’s whatever. It’s the people and their attitudes that really get to me.” A deep scowl crossed her face. “They’re all just backwards here. If you ask them, I’ve got one place and it’s barefoot in the kitchen. Preferably with a bun in the oven.”

“You’re seventeen,” I said incredulously. As if she needed reminding.

“Right? And I want so much more than that anyway. After I graduate, I’m out of here.” She paused. “And maybe I can get Pops to come with me. I doubt it, though. He loves that house too much.”

“It’s a sweet house,” I said. Amber looked at me and laughed.

The snap of steel on steel cut her off. We froze where we sat, listening for the telltale sounds of struggle and pain. Nothing happened.

“That was the trap,” Amber said softly. “There’s got to be something in it. Maybe it died right away.”

“Let’s hope. You stay put. I’ll go check.”

She nodded. “If you have to reset it, be careful! It’ll take your arm off if you let it.”

“Noted.” Thus encouraged, I jumped down from the tree and stole in the direction of the triggered trap, preparing myself for the potential sadness of a crushed rabbit or fawn or other small, cute animal.

As I drew closer, however, I began to hear noises coming from the spot where we’d laid the trap. Heavy grunts reached my ears, backed by the crushing, snapping sounds of the brush. Then the trap site came into my field of view, and I knew we had what we were looking for. A huge dark shape hunched over on the riverbank, clearly pulling and gnawing at the trap’s teeth in its leg.

It was neither small nor cute. I reached down and pulled the sword hilt off my belt but kept it dormant on the approach. The creature’s movements were getting more erratic, more panicked and furious. I was just starting to feel a little triumphant when I saw the two halves of the trap jaw go flying with a horrible, ripping screech of metal. Freed, the beast whirled around to face me.

Shit.

Two bronze eyes glared from under a heavy brow. Bent as its form was, the long, powerful arms nearly touched the edge of the water. Its broad, coarsely furred chest heaved from the exertion of demolishing the trap. A little bit of blood trickled from the wounds on its leg.

The monster was missing a hand.

But the ragged end of its arm held my attention for less than a second as I recognized the thing in front of me. It wasn’t a werewolf at all, but something much bigger, much uglier, and with pure death in its eyes.

There was no mistaking that I was staring down a god.

By Kronin… Not him. Not Lupres. Victoria, tread lightly.

There was a resemblance to the wolf I fought earlier. Long furry arms and a canine shape to its jaw. But whereas the werewolves were wild, this thing seemed almost elegant, perfectly groomed with a stately appearance. Golden armor covered its chest and arms, and a large ornate blade hung from its belt. Now that it was free of my trap, it stood proudly. A purebred killer.

We looked at each other for a small eternity, neither of us blinking in the absence of light. Its eyes glowed like cruel embers. A sneer curled his thick lips. “I am your superior in every way, human. It would be polite to bow.”

“Funny, that’s what the last god I cut in half said,” I retorted.

“Ah,” he replied. His voice rumbled like an avalanche. “You are the one who clipped Lysiani’s wings. Strange. I thought you would be bigger.”

“Well, you know what they say about size.”

His smile stretched wide, like a jackal trying to seduce his dinner. “No, what do they say about size?”

“It doesn’t matter when you’ve got a kickass glowing sword.”

Lupres’s eyes narrowed as I summoned the Gladius Solis into being. The hungry smile shrunk to one of cruel distaste.

“So it’s true. The dead king’s blade outlives him. It will make a fitting trophy.”

“Yeah, or maybe I’ll use it to gut you. It’s kind of hard to rule when your body’s been turned into my throw rug and your head is mounted on a wall.”

He barked a laugh, and his overgrown teeth glistened in the dark. “Do not compare me to my foolish siblings. I have no desire to rule this infernal slagheap. The praise of mortals means nothing to me. You only need to die so that this world might be razed and cultivated for a greater purpose. But first, every river, every current, every babbling brook must run scarlet with my sacred blood. The cycle has begun. You cannot stop it.”

“No?” I held the blade in front of me. “I’m gonna bet I can stop you.”

He smiled. “It has been far too long since I was offered a real challenge. I’m afraid I shall be disappointed once again.” He stepped backward and began to circle around me, one foot stepping in the river. “Well, well. Let us at least see how the sword has taken to its new master.”

Take it easy. Remember your training and you will do fine. Make me proud, Victoria.

“Don’t I always?” I readied myself for the inevitable assault. “Don’t answer that.”

Lupres kept his distance for longer than I expected, sizing me up and trying to calculate my first move. He was a hunter, waiting for the right moment to strike. I mirrored his tactic, unwilling to be the one who broke first. The distance between us as we circled grew less and less, until he sprang from all fours in an attempt to grab me.

His speed was unlike anything I had seen. He charged with the force of a bullet train, but with a nimbleness that would make a gazelle jealous.

Instinct kicked in and I spun backward. The sword lashed out in an arc of burning fury. His claws pinged off the flat edge, and he recoiled, smoke curling from his fingertips. Almost immediately, he swept an arm out along the ground. I jumped, swung overhand, and barely missed.

He grinned nastily. “Better than I thought, girl. Most mortals would already be dead by now.”

I smiled. “Aww, a compliment? Well, you’re just a big ol’ cuddly teddy bear, aren’t you?”

He did not seem to like the comparison.

I braced myself for another charge, but he changed tactics. Reaching out with his good hand, he grabbed ahold of a pine tree as thick as a telephone pole. Ripping the tree from the ground, roots and all, Lupres swung his new weapon like a club. I ducked the first swing then managed to raise the Gladius in time to block the second. The sword’s magic absorbed most of the blow, but I was still knocked on my ass as the tree shattered into a million pieces.

Lupres wasted not a second. He charged through the dust, claw first.

If he still had both hands, there was no way I could have escaped his clutches, but with one appendage shorter than the other, I was able to predict his attack.

So instead of falling dead like he assumed, I leaned in.

The sword was quick in my hand and it struck true, cleaving down to the bone in his shoulder before he twisted away. When he looked back at me, his face was a mask of shock, pain, and rage. Now the blood flowed freely, soaking his fur.

“How dare you?” The last word was swallowed by a roar.

I had just enough time to see him leaping up toward me, and then a flying weight crashed into my chest. I dropped backward like a boulder. My head struck the ground so hard that my vision in both eyes went white for a second. Kronin’s sword fell from my hand and tumbled out of reach.

The points of his claws dug through my clothes, and something dripped on me from above. His weight on my chest was tremendous. I could hardly breathe through it. My lungs were collapsing in on themselves. As the hazy picture of the world swam back into focus, I caught sight of those terrible bronze eyes locked on mine. He reared his good arm back, and I gasped for air as I waited my inevitable death.

I was saved by a bullet.

As the shot rang out, Lupres’s right shoulder jerked backward, his arm flailing. It was clear from my vantage point that the bullet barely fazed him—but the annoyance of it couldn’t be ignored. His head snapped up, gaze searching for the sniper.

“Gladius Solis!” I shouted.

The beast’s eyes grew wide at the sound of the words. Just as the hilt hit my hand, the blade came to life. I swung it upward in a wild slice, skimming the god’s side. The force of another shot almost whipped him around completely. There was more blood caked in his fur. But he held his ground unfaltering, as if he were struck by a kid’s peashooter.

The third shot grazed his cheek; I saw the shallow wound appear in an instant. He clutched at it, clearly seething. He threw up his arm against the last strike from Kronin’s sword and took a deep gash from wrist to elbow. Then he turned tail, running on all fours unsteadily into the cover of the trees.

Rejoice Victoria! You have done battle against one of the most vicious of the Forgotten, and you are not dead.

I coughed. “Are you sure? I might need new lungs.”

I forced myself up on my elbow so that I could see and take aim at the god, but Lupres was gone. I let myself fall back again. The air wheezed painfully in and out of my struggling lungs, like a straw with a hole in it. I heard a close thud, running footsteps, knees hitting the ground.

“Vic? Oh, shit. Vic, can you hear me?” I opened my eyes and tried to wave dismissively at Amber as if to say I was fine and she didn’t have to worry. To her credit, she didn’t buy this ridiculous charade. “Cut that out, will you? That thing beat the shit out of you.”

My pride was wounded but not as wounded as the rest of me. I pointed to the injury I’d had before the fight even started. I was pretty sure it had reopened. The bandages that had been firm and dry all day now felt suspiciously sticky. “Look, please,” I croaked.

“Shut up. Don’t talk. Yeah, that’s all kinds of messed up.” She used her phone to shine a light over me. “Oh yeah. Okay, we need to get you back to town. I took a first-aid course back when I started babysitting, but that was years ago, and it’s not going to help you.”

A smile managed to crawl its way onto my face. “Yeah, I don’t need a babysitter. I need a vet.”

Chapter Thirteen

Amber took me back to Maya’s clinic, my arm slung haphazardly over her shoulder. She raised her hand to knock, but I stopped her at the last second. “Don’t. I’ve already bothered her once today. I’ll be fine.” I winced as a hot pain shot through my stomach. “Just help me sit down for a second, okay?”

She looked worried. “I’m going to be in so much trouble if you die. And, I mean… just don’t die.” She helped me sit my ass down on the sidewalk outside the clinic. I leaned back on the wall next to the door and let out my breath.

“That’s better.” The wound in my side had definitely reopened. I could feel the new blood seeping uncomfortably down between the bandages and my skin. “Damn it. I just bought these clothes.”

Amber crouched beside me. “That’s what you’re worried about? I’ll lend you some clothes if you want. I’m just here to make sure you don’t check out for good.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily.” The kid’s concern was touching, if a tad overbearing. What I didn’t want was to go back to her grandfather’s house in the glen, bleeding in multiple places, with her in tow. Something told me the old man wouldn’t take it well. “Relax, would you? Your anxiety’s rubbing off on me.” Her huge, nervous eyes had been glued to my face since we’d stopped moving, and it was starting to weird me out. “I’m not dying, Amber.”

“Okay, okay.” She plopped down on the pavement, stretched out her legs out, and blew her bangs out of her eyes. “Sorry. I just… was surprised you got hurt. That’s all.” Her tone made it clear that she hadn’t really believed we were out to hunt a dangerous creature, and now her head was spinning.

I sympathized. “Me too, honestly. I’m kind of still getting used to having my butt kicked.” No doubt, my previous injury didn’t help. Then again, I had squared off against a god.

She glanced at me again. “What the hell does that mean? You’ve done this before?” A note of incredulity, bordering on panic, stood out bare in her voice.

Holding in a groan, I avoided eye contact. This was exactly the conversation I didn’t want to be having as I sat leaking blood on the side of the street in a strange town thousands of miles away from my home. But I knew I’d dragged her too far in. It couldn’t be avoided, especially not now that she’d seen too much.

“Yes, I’ve done this before,” I said. “Not with a bastard like that, though. He was new.” I wasn’t trying to lie to her, but it was an awfully complicated story to tell in my current condition. The details swirled around my brain. I hoped I could keep them all straight.

“What was that thing?” Amber asked. “I mean, it had to be a prank, right? Someone was filming, weren’t they? Like all those assholes on YouTube. That’s guaranteed to go viral.”

I wanted to scoff at how ludicrous her theory was, but honestly, it wasn’t any crazier than the truth. “No.” I sighed, willing my lungs to take in more air. “That was a god as far as I can tell. And it got away, which blows. Probably off to create more werewolves”

She didn’t say anything for a while, and finally, I sneaked a glance at her to make sure she hadn’t gone completely into catatonic shock. She hugged her legs to her chest, resting her chin on her knees. The streetlight above us reflected an eerie orange glow in her eyes.

“You were really going to kill it, weren’t you? With that sword.”

She’d gotten an eyeful of the Gladius Solis, too? Way to keep a low profile. There really was no going back. “Don’t get all bleeding-heart on me, kiddo,” I told her brusquely. “I bet you got a damn good look at that ugly dog in the moonlight, from wherever you were taking those shots. We’re not talking about a puppy here, all right? He only ran because he was hurt, and he knew it.” I paused. “Nice shooting, by the way. I owe you one.”

She grinned, coming back to herself. “Told you I could do it.” After another beat of thoughtful silence, she said, “You know, I bet Pops would get a kick out of seeing that sword.”

“No.” I shook my head so vehemently it made the world spin. “I can’t just go showing this thing off to people. You saw what I use it for. That’s what I’m doing here. That thing is a monster, and it’s my job to stop it.”

Amber got quiet. “Or else, what happens?” She glanced toward the east. “Is that what went down in Mormouth?” All the cheer had rapidly drained from her demeanor, and I felt a little bad, but at the same time, we were living in a heavy reality. Sooner or later, she was going to learn about the new reality of our world.

Might as well be from me.

I thought of the dead girl staring up at me with those frightened, lifeless eyes. Goosebumps stood up on my flesh. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s probably responsible for Mormouth. And if we don’t catch that son of a bitch, it’ll happen here, too.”

Amber chewed her lip, still hugging her knees. “Maybe Wade will get it,” she suggested. “He’s the biggest dickhead in town, but he’s not a bad hunter. It’s the only reason I think people still put up with his crap.”

“If he messes with a god or one his minions, he’s as good as dead. That’s not a regular animal, Amber. And I don’t have my backup weapon yet, either. Your grandfather said it would take a few days. I’ll just have to try again in a little while.”

“A little while? Have you seen yourself?” Amber gave me a skeptical onceover. “I’d be shocked if you could even stand up on your own right now.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can manage.” As shaky proof, I pushed myself up into a straighter sitting position against the wall, sweeping my loose hair back into a ponytail. “I just need a little more time.” Ponytail secured, I leaned back and gazed up at the stars against the velvet black sky. The heavy fog had receded, leaving a night clearer than any I’d ever seen.

“I’m not a huge fan of this town,” Amber said quietly, “but I don’t want it to die.”

My heart squeezed a little. I reached over and laid a hand on her arm. “It won’t. I’ll make sure of it. But you’re going to have to keep quiet about this. If you don’t, no one will believe you, and it will just get more people hurt in the end.” I glanced toward the east, too. “Trust me. I’ve been to Mormouth recently. It’s…” Unwilling to describe the scene in any detail, I trailed off. Fortunately, Amber got the picture. She was pale, and a slight shiver ran through her, but she nodded.

“I know. Most of the time, no one here will believe anything unless they think they came up with it themselves. I’d get laughed out of town if I even said the word ‘werewolf’ where anyone could hear me.” She scowled. “Not that they’ve ever put much stock in me to begin with. Just the dumb girl, remember?”

“Yeah, well a couple of dumb girls just saved everyone in town tonight.” I stretched my arms above my head, pleased to feel that some of the minor bruising was already clearing up. “And that makes it hard for me to say this, because I’ve been where you are, and I know how much it sucks balls. But I need you to go back home now. And stay there, every night. It’s way, way too dangerous for you to be out here on your own while those things are running around.”

“I should have known,” Amber muttered into the torn knees of her jeans. “I thought you were cool for letting me come out there with you. I figured that meant you understood where I was coming from.”

I pursed my lips. “I am cool, and I do understand. And now you need to understand where I’m coming from, kid. Do you have any idea how much danger I put you in tonight? It’s nothing personal, but bringing you along was a mistake I’m not about to make again.” The words felt shitty coming out of my mouth because I knew—and I could see—how they made her feel. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt Amber’s feelings. She was a good kid.

I just wanted her to be safer than me.

“How can you say that?” she demanded, her voice raw with barely restrained emotion. “I pulled my weight tonight, Vic. You can’t say I didn’t. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead right now.” She glared daggers of hurt into me. “I saved your life.”

“Yeah, you did.” I gave her a sad smile and a gentle punch on the arm. “I can’t tell you how glad I am that you came through. But now the tables have turned, and it’s my turn to save you, by sending your ass home.”

Her steely resolve faltered a little. I almost had her. Then she dug in. “What, and I’m supposed to leave you here by yourself? You’re vulnerable. What if it comes back and finds you here?”

The girl has a point, Victoria.

Marcus was right about Amber this time, but he would sacrifice anything if it meant saving earth from the gods... and when I put it that way, I almost agreed with him. But putting a kid in harm’s way wasn’t on my to-do list.

“You shot him like three times,” I said. “I took a chunk out of his shoulder. I’d bet money he’s off somewhere licking his wounds and meditating on the kind of vengeance he wants to wreak once he’s at full strength again.” In order to signal that the conversation was over, I pushed off the sidewalk and slowly regained my feet under my own power. “I promise I’ve got this under control. Go home, get some rest, and keep your eyes peeled. I don’t think it’s safe here anymore.”

Amber searched for something to counter me and finally came up blank. She also stood up, reluctantly turning in the direction of the smithy. “Where are you going to go? Not home, I’m assuming.”

“Hell, no.” I gave her a strained laugh. “Your grandpa’s probably waiting up for you, and if he sees us both come in together and me looking like this, he’ll totally lose his shit.” Nodding down the street toward the only lit up establishment, I took my first tentative step. “I’m going to the one place that might help me make some damn sense of everything I saw tonight.”

She followed my gaze. “The bar?”

“The bar.” I glanced back at her. “Go straight home, Amber. Don’t look for trouble. This is the kind that’ll find you the second you let your guard down.”

For an instant, she looked like she was going to say something sassy and defiant, but her shoulders slumped. “Okay. But if you need help, you ask me, okay? I don’t know what it takes to kill a god, but I’m betting you can’t do it alone.”

She turned, and I watched her until she made it to the edge of town before I moved toward the bar.

Chapter Fourteen

“I did the right thing, didn’t I, Marcus?”

Sending the child away? Of course, you did. She is much too young to be so embroiled in these problems. The girl is smart, but she has much to learn. He paused. Like you, when I first arrived.

“I learned pretty fast,” I said.

You had an excellent teacher. But she is not wrong, you know?

“About what?”

Needing allies.

I nodded. “Well, if you can find me some non-teenage warriors, let me know. I’ll gladly sign them up to the cause.”

The walk to the bar wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. The more I moved, the more my body settled, and by the time I got up to the front of the bar, the pain had faded to a manageable backbeat in my mind. As an afterthought, I glanced down and buttoned my jacket over the red stains bleeding through the dressing on my ribs. The fewer questions I got, the better. I was only there to sort out my thoughts and have a beer.

It was pleasantly noisy inside, the kind of loudness that covers up your own pesky brain-noise like a blanket. A few heads turned as I made my way up to the bar, but it wasn’t like that morning at the diner. Everyone was too drunk or otherwise preoccupied to care, which was all well and good. Some alone time sounded nice right about then.

I set myself down at the end of the bar and scanned the menu tacked up above the shelf piled high with liquor bottles. A beefy dude in a dirty apron tied over a white tank was tending bar, and he tipped his head in my direction. When he came over, I asked for a pint of ale. He looked at me, then simply said, “You got it,” and went to pour.

If only the world was full of bartenders. No questions, just drinks and silent judgment.

“So, let’s talk about what happened in the forest,” I said to Marcus, making sure to speak under my breath and not make eye contact with anyone. “Who the shit was that, and what’s he up to?”

That was the god known as Lupres. Of all the Forgotten, he took to Carcerum the worst, at least outwardly. Violence is all he knows, and Kronin’s peace was, to him, a punishment as cruel as any.

“Great. And now he’s brought his violence to Smalltown, USA. What’s his play? I still don’t get what the sleepy people of Mormouth or Silver Banks have to do with that thing.”

On that front, my knowledge is less than helpful. I know very little about Lupres from the time before Kronin’s rule, only that the legends were not kind. Many of the gods developed cult followings among the humans that served them. But there are no songs about Lupres. No holy days or buried statues in his honor. He was constantly on the move from one land to the next. And the legends are clear that everywhere he went, death and destruction were all that remained behind.

“Shit.” I looked around the bar and pictured it painted in blood. “Well, he was definitely in Mormouth, right? That at least fits the legend.”

I am inclined to agree. Humans are violent, but only a Forgotten could have that kind of effect.

“And we know that he is recruiting followers somehow. Those two Weres that I fought were like a crude caricature of him, but they were definitely his. So the question is, how is he making them, and can they be stopped? If we can figure out the pattern, maybe we can beat him to his next move.”

My ale arrived. I thanked the bartender and sipped the froth off the top. Its crisp coldness was a much-needed shot of clarity to my head. “Ahh, that’s better.”

That is the question indeed. The gods’ methods are as diverse as the gods themselves. I suggest that you stay the course. Track down one of his minions and make it talk. By whatever means necessary.

“Yeah.” I stared at my drink for a while, but I couldn’t get the freckled face of the woman I killed out of my head.

You do not agree?

“It makes sense. It’s just that… any werewolf I kill, there will be a person inside. That girl, the guy I cut across the shoulder. All of them.” I sipped my beer, hoping it would give me some solace. “Isn’t there any way to make the transformation go away?”

They are aligned with the Forgotten. It is not a choice you can go back on.

“Yeah, I know.”

You did not have these same qualms about the vampires, Marcus pointed out.

“Because the vampires were all mobsters, dude. Yeah, they were people, but not good people. I know what the mob is like on the inside, and I refuse to feel bad about cleaning it out. That’s not the case here. I mean, what if…” I let silence hang on the air for a second before reaching my conclusion. “What if these people aren’t choosing the gods? What if Lupres forced his will upon them? He could do that right? He’s strong enough.”

It is not how Lorcan and Lysiani operate, but yes, there is nothing about the gods that makes me think consent is a necessary requirement to service.

“Well if that’s true, then these Weres could be the victims. It makes it a lot harder for me to justify cutting them down.”

They may be victims, but that does not preclude them from being killers as well. Even if the beasts you fought were turned against their will, even if they protested, they still tore that village apart. And they will do it here, unless you stop them. The reality of our situation is that you cannot afford to choose mercy in the heat of the battle. These beasts will not reciprocate your gracious intentions.

I frowned stubbornly. “We don’t know that yet. I’m willing to accept that Lupres is a huge asshole and should be dispatched immediately, but you can’t just convince me to slaughter people, no matter what they look like. Not without trying another way first.”

Your romantic ideals are getting the better of your warrior’s judgment.

“Yeah, well maybe a thousand years of soldiering has altered yours.”

He was quiet for a second, but when his voice returned it was tender.

This life we lead, the life you have been chosen for, it is not easy. Like it or not, we are at war, and war means casualties. This is your quest. At the end of the day, you must choose how to carry it out. I will not force anything on you. But in my considerably long experience, the longer a war drags on, the more innocents will die along the way. It may seem callous, but I believe the swiftest end to this fight is the most kind. Even if it means killing what once was human.

I let his words sink in as I downed my beer and ordered another. It seemed the only appropriate way to deal with the moral dilemma before me. Thankfully, Marcus knew I needed to think about this problem in silence, and he let me drink in peace.

Eventually, I reached my conclusion and opened my mouth to reply, but the sound of the door banging open cut me off. A tide of obnoxiously loud laughter poured in from the street. I cringed. There was no mistaking that brash, hyper-masculine guffaw. “Looks like the party’s just arrived,” I muttered. “Great.”

Wade Stevens had his peanut gallery with him, and the group was more boisterous than ever. They all bellied up to the bar a few seats away from me, demanding all kinds of strong drink. The bartender even uncorked a bottle of something that I swore was straight moonshine, judging by the smell.

Wade raised his voice, to no one’s surprise. “We’re celebrating tonight, boys! I told you we’d be dragging that son of a bitch through the streets at dawn!” He raised his glass and let out a whoop that rattled the windows.

I felt a killer headache coming on, but I was interested in the possibility that Amber had been right in her assessment of Wade’s hunting skills after all. Could it be that Wade Stevens was the one who’d hunted down and killed the psychotic Were-god running loose in the Pacific Northwest? A sour taste spread over the back of my tongue. If this lout had somehow beaten me at my own game, I was gonna be royally pissed.

But Wade himself solved that mystery in the next five seconds. “You want to know what it was?” he was asking no one in particular. “I’ll tell you what it was. Biggest bear I’ve ever seen, and we took it down in one shot. Right between its damn eyes. Didn’t we, boys?”

His friends hollered their assent. I squeezed my eyes shut against the cacophony.

“Woo, yeah!” Wade added. “Gonna have this one stuffed and mounted!”

I have never seen a human being be so incredibly wrong. Marcus spoke with the muted sense of wonder normally reserved for genuine phenomena.

I just wanted to crawl inside myself and disappear. And I should have found a way to achieve that goal somehow because in the next minute, Wade had noticed my presence and turned on me. Clearly, he wasn’t finished hunting.

“Well, if it isn’t Diner Girl!” he exclaimed, still talking at a level way above necessary. I didn’t dignify him with a response, but he didn’t seem to need one. “What’d I tell you, little lady? Your friendly neighborhood bear-killer has come to the rescue.” At this point, he noticed I was worse for the wear, and a cruel little grin touched his lips. “What happened out there, princess? You get tangled up in that rope you bought? Mess up your fancy new clothes?”

His pathetic crowd of buddies snickered. I bit my tongue, but I couldn’t resist answering. “Mind your own business,” I snapped at him.

He nodded as if that was all he needed to hear. “Yeah, you look about like I thought you would. Just give up, girl. Save yourself the embarrassment. If we wanted a show, there’s plenty of titty bars out here in the boondocks. We’ll just hit one of those so you don’t have to work so hard.”

I shoved down the flush of rage that threatened to creep up my neck into my cheeks. Wade would have loved to get a rise out of me, and I refused to let him win at that game. Instead, I stared straight ahead and took a pull from my beer. “Get lost, dickface, and take your gang of idiots with you.”

Wade was silent while his brain processed the insult. Then he spat, “You worthless bitch,” and turned away, pretending I hadn’t just totally won our little pissing contest.

Now I was the one smiling to myself as I sipped the last of my beer. The smile grew when someone I actually liked showed up at the stool beside me.

“This seat taken?” Maya asked. She smiled, but the tension never left her face. Her dark eyes were stormy and nervous.

“Be my guest,” I said. “But be warned, Wade and his harem are in rare form tonight.”

“Yeah?” She cast a furtive glance at his group. “That’s nothing new. I’m convinced all they do is get hammered when they’re not working or dehumanizing women.”

“They killed a bear,” I explained. “Wade thinks that’s what mauled the body in the river.”

“Ha.” Maya ordered her drink and sat back on the stool, fretting the thin edge of a napkin in her fingers. “As usual, Wade is dead wrong.” The corners of her lips tugged downward. “It wasn’t a bear; not even close. Frankly, I’ve been working on it all night, and I still have no idea what it could have been. The claw wounds are too large and distinct. They don’t share enough qualities with any other mauling wound I’ve ever seen.” A small shudder ran through her. “Kind of freaks me out. Like, what the hell was it? I just want to know for sure, even if I don’t like the answer.”

I kept my mouth shut. As with Amber, I felt a little bad about withholding information, but I also knew Maya wouldn’t stand for any of my werewolf crap. “Beats me,” I said. “I didn’t get a good look when I got attacked, either.”

“At least you survived.” Maya had ordered a shot, which she took like a champion within ten seconds of it showing up in front of her. She shook her head vigorously after it went down. “Oh man, I needed that. I feel like I’m going insane.”

I could relate all too well, but again, I said nothing about it. I’d already narrowly avoided sucking Amber into the black hole that was my entanglement with the gods. Maya needed that shit even less. She had a lot of things going for her, vet school debt notwithstanding. A promising career, a good current gig.

She was, however, a little wiser and a lot less easily fooled than Amber. It was amazing what five or six years can do to the human brain in terms of development. I could feel her watching me as I turned my full attention to my now almost-empty beer.

“Can I ask you something, Vic?” Her words weren’t accusatory yet, but they were pointed.

“Shoot.” I signaled the bartender to bring me another drink, which I felt I might need after Maya was done with me. The wheels in her head were turning faster and faster.

“How big was the coyote that attacked you?” She definitely knew something was up, and now she was trying to catch me in a lie, or at least, a significant factual inaccuracy. It was a tactic I recognized from my days of prying information from the bloated jaws of mobsters. A game I knew how to play.

“I don’t know,” I said simply. “I didn’t get a real good look at it. Everything happened insanely fast.”

“Right. I guess it ran away right after it got you?”

“I think all my furious yelling scared it off.” The barkeep brought my third beer; I took refuge in it. Hard to say stupid shit when your mouth is full of delicious alcohol. Then, for good measure, I added, “Maybe it was looking for food. I don’t know. I might have had something in my backpack.”

Maya gestured to my torso. “How’s it feel? You’re holding up okay?”

“I got here, didn’t I?” I smiled to ease her nerves. “It feels fine. You did a great job.” This would have been entirely true were it not for the encounter with Lupres. And I was not about to let her in on that. “All that vet school totally paid off from my perspective.”

Her laugh was tinged with a bit of unmistakable sadness. “I’m glad you think so.” She sighed. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. There’s nothing else I’d rather be doing. But more and more lately, I wonder if I know where the hell I’m going in life. Like, do I just set up a practice somewhere and stay put? Do I want that?”

“Do you?” I asked, hoping that I could keep her off the subject of my date with a werewolf.

She scratched the back of her neck. “I don’t know. I really don’t. Before college, I always thought I’d stay local forever. I’m from Oakland, and I really liked it there. I thought of it as home.”

“But then?” I prompted gently. I didn’t want her to feel like I was forcing her life story out, but I also knew how cathartic it could be to unload all those weights. And she seemed to be carrying a few.

“Well, then I came out, and it didn’t go so well. My family is kind of religious, and my grandparents especially couldn’t really handle it. We’ve always been one big extended unit, so I think my parents found it impossible not to pick sides. For a while, I was out in the cold. Thank God California is a big enough state that I could go away to school without paying out the ass for tuition and board.”

“Man, I’m sorry.” I swirled my beer, searching for words that wouldn’t seem shallow and meaningless. “Did they ever come around?”

“They’re starting to.” She gave me a tight smile that suggested it was still a slow process. “They mean well, I think. And they say they still love me. But there’s a lot of inevitable friction when I go home for family gatherings. A lot of unspoken awkwardness, you know? Like two elephants in the room instead of just the one.”

“So that’s why you came out here to the middle of nowhere?”

“Yep.” Maya received a whiskey sour and took a long sip. “I told them it was because I got sick of the brutal California heat, but we all know I was getting away from them. It’s been good for me, though. I have a lot more perspective than I did when I was still so close to the core of the issue. Which might just be because I don’t have to deal with their bullshit all day, every day.”

I looked around the bar. It looked as though all of Silver Banks was stuck in the 1950s. “Seems you picked a place pretty hospitable to the gay community. Everyone seems so tolerant.”

We laughed together, both of us understanding the irony of her decision.

“Hey, what’s going on over here?” Wade’s slurring voice cut in over our conversation, and instantly, the laughter stopped. Maya and I both stared at him in disgusted expectation. “We havin’… havin’ girl time or whatever the hell?” He slumped his way onto the barstool behind Maya. She inched closer to me. “Aw, don’t be scared. I’m not gonna hurtcha.”

“Watch it, Wade,” I warned him. “Neither of us are in the mood to humor your slimy ass tonight.”

“Ooh.” He grinned. “Talking tough, are we? I like it. You almost sound like you could be a real hunter someday, instead of a little baby poser.”

I clenched my teeth. “You have no clue what you’re talking about, Wade. Now let us have our drinks in peace before some shit goes down that you can’t undo.”

“Come on.” He laughed a drunken laugh. “I’m just makin’ conversation.” He leaned back with his elbows on the bar. “Seems like a couple of pretty ladies like you ought to appreciate my company if you weren’t such stone-cold bitches.”

“I bet they’re real teases in the bedroom, too,” the short stocky dipshit standing next to him said.

Wade eyed me up and then Maya. Wagging his finger, he said, “Ahhh, now I get it. Yeah, these two are something between the sheets, but I’m sure we’ll never get invited.” He slapped the back of his hand across his friend’s chest, and they both laughed like animals.

“That’s it!” Maya slammed her hand on the bar, making the glassware jump. “You can fuck off straight to hell, Wade Stevens. I have had it with your shitty, misogynistic, asshole posturing!”

Dead silence fell and lasted about five seconds. I couldn’t tell who was more shocked, me or the douche patrol. Then Wade’s friends started whooping and jeering. A dark cloud passed across his brick of a face. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said coldly. His words had gained a distinct edge that I really didn’t like. “And as a personal rule of thumb, I believe in punishing that kind of disrespect.”

He started to get out of his seat, albeit unsteadily. His shadow fell over Maya. She looked up at him, unmoving.

“Try it, you horse’s ass,” she snarled.

I saw his fist clench at his side, and then I was on my feet, staring him down over Maya’s head. “If you so much as lift a finger against her, I will shove your ugly head so far up your ass that no one will be able to tell the difference.”

“Is that supposed to scare me?” he asked mockingly.

“Ask me that again when you’ve been shitting teeth for a week.”

I stepped around Maya toward him, just in case he got it in his pea brain to throw a punch. To my immense satisfaction, Wade’s first reflex was to take a step back. He glared at me, eyes bright with blazing fury. Then he turned around and stormed out of the bar without even gathering up his flock of goons. They glanced between me and their retreating leader. I didn’t turn my back on them until the last one was completely out the door.

“That was pretty ballsy, Vic,” Maya said as the chatter picked up again. “I’m impressed.”

“I could say the same.” I shot her a grin. “Who knew you had those fangs hidden away in you?”

She shrugged it off. “Sorry, I’m not really sure what came over me. I’m basically a pacifist. Ignoring them all is usually my MO, but I’ve been so angry all day. I don’t know, maybe it’s the body sitting in my lab that’s got me all riled up.” She lifted her glass to her lips. “But honestly, sometimes I just want to rip his throat out.” The glass went back onto the bar, still half full. “Hey, I’m sorry to cut this short, but I’m not feeling so great all of a sudden. Maybe those shots were a mistake.” Maya smiled weakly. “I had fun tonight, Vic. You’re the best kind of stranger.”

Before I could say anything in return, she’d slipped through the crowd and out the door. I watched it swing shut behind her.

Weird night. And I had a feeling things would only go downhill from there.

Chapter Fifteen

It was late when I finally left the bar, and the joint was still hopping. Wade hadn’t shown his ugly mug since Maya and I had shut him down, which made for a much more pleasant drinking experience. I was a little buzzed, but not severely—just enough to feel good as I made my way down the street toward Smitty’s house. I hoped Amber would be sound asleep when I got in.

A thick, dark layer of cloud cover had rolled in while I was inside the bar, obscuring the sky. On my way to Smitty’s, the clouds shifted, and the bright eye of the moon emerged from behind its veil. It was almost perfectly round, save for a tiny sliver of the side. I blinked at it.

Then I heard a long, haunting howl rise through the trees. It was an unearthly sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “What the hell was that?”

My guess is that it was the call of a Forgotten, Marcus said.

“Well, shit.” Immediately, I turned on my heel and headed back toward the center of town. Not three minutes after I’d changed my course, the screams began to reach my ears. I burst into a run, ignoring the protests from various injured parts of my body. The screams rose in a horrible crescendo—finally mimicking the distant howl.

Silver Banks was shifting.

In the shadows of nearby buildings, people fell to the ground, ripping at their clothes. And they didn’t remain people for long.

Hulking shoulders and long, powerful arms replaced human skin as the townsfolk turned into werewolves. Off the top of my head, I counted three, but I was sure there had to be more. The screams reached a fever pitch, penetrating all my senses.

Then a very human cry of pain broke through the eerie animal noises. Not everyone was turning—but those who weren’t animals were being ripped apart by them.

The killings had begun.

There was nothing else to do but draw my sword and jump into the fray.

The light from the Gladius Solis drew the Weres’ attention like nothing else. Their bronze eyes seemed simultaneously entranced and repulsed by the burning blade. One of them, the largest, appeared to recognize the sword for what it was. He growled. I held it up tauntingly.

“Do you hate this?” I asked. “Yeah? Good. It hates you, too.”

In the sword’s illumination, I got a better look than ever at the big bad wolf, and it wasn’t pretty. The first thing I really noticed—again—were the teeth, elongated and gleaming behind curled-back lips. A thread of saliva hung from the corner of the beast’s mouth, vibrating with the intensity of its low growl. The stunted snout jabbed the air, nose quivering. It stood perfectly still on its hind legs—a strange hangover from its human past that only added to their unnatural appearance. Even though its head hunched down between its shoulders, it was easily seven feet tall.

Then it lunged.

The muscles in its arms and legs tightened visibly like steel cords. Finding myself beneath the diving shadow, I ducked and rolled forward, out of the reach of its already tearing claws. Chunks of earth were tossed up like shrapnel from where it landed behind me. I pivoted neatly, the Gladius Solis outstretched to its full length. My opponent whirled around, reared back on two legs, and let out another howl. At close range, the sound was ear-splitting, as well as haunting.

I thought I heard the others turn and start to close in. This could get very bad, very fast. I needed to press my attack before they could join the fight and surround me.

I adjusted my grip on the glowing sword and ran straight at my opponent, leaping with the hilt clasped overhand for a double-handed, spearing strike. The Were batted at me. Too late, I realized I’d misjudged the reach of its sinewy arms.

“Shit!” The world spun cockeyed as the great paw landed its blow, tossing me to the side and knocking the breath from my lungs.

I struggled to right myself in midair and brace for the horrible pain of impact at the same time. On both counts, I was half successful. My arm and shoulder managed to absorb most of the fall, but the wave of agony that followed truly rocked me. I pushed up on to my arms and breathed through the pain. As soon as I could muster enough force, I released a curse into the world. “Holy shit balls, that hurts!”

Steady, Victoria, Marcus said. Trust the effects of the nectar and get back into the fight. The enemy approaches.

He was right. I could feel the werewolf’s heavy footfalls reverberating through the ground beneath me. Determined not to be bested by some mangy demon dog, I regained my footing and brandished my blade once again, facing the monster head-on. It reached for me in a scooping motion, aiming to pick me up in that massive grip.

“Hey!” I jumped to the side, shooting forward to jab at the werewolf’s wrist, which was spidered with veins. “No touching!” The blade caught a clean slice over bare skin on the underside of its bulging forearm. As the Were jerked its arm back, I felt a pattering shower of something I quickly identified as blood. “Oh, gross.” It smelled heavy, thick, metallic.

Come, Victoria. Press your advantage. Finish your opponent then move onto the next. This one will be weakened by his wound.

I took a step back. The creature hovered, bracing the hurt arm against its side. A red pool was starting to form near its feet. I must have gotten it pretty good. Rather than become enraged by the scent of the blood, as I’d expected, it seemed rattled. The great, grotesque head swiveled on its neck, searching for me.

I pictured the family of this human stuck in the form of a Were. It had loved ones probably. People who would grieve for its loss.

“I can’t just kill them, Marcus. You saw them turn. Someone—something—is making them act like this. I just know it.”

Even if that is true, even if these people are innocent, they will kill you just the same. Or they will kill others who are also innocent. I know it is a difficult choice, but you must save the helpless innocents before you can worry about saving the monsters.

“They won’t hurt anyone if I make sure they can’t. That one from before ran away, right? Maybe I can get them to retreat.”

That may be possible, but I fear they will only return once they have healed.

He was obviously not convinced by my plan that was starting to take shape, but it was impossible for me to justify killing any more of them as long as the first girl’s dead face remained stuck in my mind.

“That’s an acceptable risk if it’ll buy us some time. We’ll just have to find a better way to deal with them by the time they come back.” What that way was, I had no idea, but he didn’t have to know that yet. I refused to believe there was no other solution.

The werewolf finally caught sight of me again, and its gaze locked on me like a laser sight. I saw the hateful rage bloom black in its ferocious eyes. It hunched forward, preparing for another lunge, the powerful body coiling under its own kinetic energy. I ran backward and cocked back the arm holding the sword. If this worked, I was going to feel awesome. If it didn’t, there was a good chance I’d be screwed.

The werewolf pounced, trailing crimson from its busted wrist. At the same time, I propelled my arm forward and let the Gladius Solis fly. It sailed through the night air like a blazing comet and buried itself just under the ribs of my target, who let out a surprising yelp and twisted to the side, stopping its leap short.

Without wasting time, I recalled Kronin’s sword. It was harder than usual, possibly because it had been sandwiched underneath a heap of sprawling wolfy limbs. I hoped that the blade wouldn’t accidentally slice the Were in half as it searched for a way out, but as the werewolf stood unsteadily, the Gladius Solis unearthed itself from flesh and returned to me. As per usual, it was not covered in blood, which was still my second favorite thing about it.

Your connection with the sword grows stronger, Marcus observed approvingly. But I still fear your decision to show mercy will prove problematic in the very near future.

“Good thing I’m one hell of a problem solver!” I said cheerfully, sinking down into a fighting stance in case the Were should charge again. It was covering the new wound with both paws, a gesture I found distressingly human.

“See?” I asked softly. “Look at that.” The creature moved away from me, dropped to all fours, and ran off toward the woods, leaving drops of blood in its wake.

Your mercy is commendable, was all Marcus said.

“Hey, Vic!” The voice made my blood turn to ice. I turned so fast it made my head spin. Amber ran down the road from the direction of Smitty’s house. She had a long rifle in her hand. “Watch out!”

“Amber, get out of here!” I shouted. The last thing I needed or wanted in this situation was for her to get maimed in front of me. I wasn’t what you might call extremely maternal, but I already felt some level of responsibility for the kid, seeing as I’d brought her Were-hunting in the forest with me.

“Not on your life!” she answered. “Behind you!”

A crash shook the ground. I looked to see two other Weres ripping into a building, trying to get at the screaming group inside. Amber immediately moved down a notch on my priority list, but only one. At least she had a gun.

A war cry erupted from my throat as I charged toward the building, which I soon recognized as the bar. The trapped victims must have thought its stone and brick façade would stand a better chance of protecting them, but I could see how wrong they’d been. The Weres used their brutish limbs as battering rams, punching and clawing.

When they heard my battle cry, their heads came up, and their bronze eyes fixed on me. A shot rang out from behind me. I knew it was Amber, and I wished I’d thought to tell her not to kill. Hoping she’d get the idea, I waved my sword at the two Weres, still shouting. The flash of golden light made them flinch. One of them hunkered down onto itself, hackles raised, snarling.

They really were animals in this state, and they didn’t know what the hell I had in my hand.

Emboldened by what I could only interpret as fear on their part, I gripped the hilt with both hands and resumed my forward sprint, slashing at the air as I approached. The werewolves reared back on their hind legs, startled. The one on the left made an instinctive grab for my sword, but the heat of the blade warded him off.

I swung it, singeing a patch of the wolf’s coarse fur. He made another grab, this one ending in a cut. Flames leapt up the sinewy arm. Freaked out, he finally bailed. The smell of burning hair followed him into the waning night.

These guys were not like the vamps at all. Big, yes. Initially intimidating and hyper-aggressive, yes. But they seemed to scare easier, or at least, be more averse to pain. Maybe they liked attacking humans so much because a regular person couldn’t hurt them enough to make them think it was a bad idea.

That was my job.

I rounded on the last Were that I could see, who began to circle me warily. This one had witnessed what went down with his buddy and was not so keen on having the same thing happen to him. He kept his fierce sight on the sword, not me.

I wondered if I could use it to lead him a little. But as soon as I moved faster than a step at a time, I got swiped at and had to resort to ducking and rolling again. Back on my feet, I slashed, hitting a meaty flank. The werewolf howled. I got in a second slash.

Amber fired another shot. The bullet went in near the Were’s hip and rocked him backward. Unable and unwilling to divide his attention between the sword and an as yet invisible assailant, he wheeled into a limping gallop out of the town center.

After making sure he wasn’t coming back, I headed for the bars doors. They were both badly dented, one of the frames twisted at the top. One more strike, and they probably would have collapsed.

“Are you guys okay?” I asked, forcing the doors open. “You need to get back home while the coast is clear. This building isn’t going to stand up to another beating like that.”

The group stared at me with confused, terrified faces. “What the hell were those things?” a guy demanded, mopping the bald crown of his head with a handkerchief. “We can’t go out there! How do we know they won’t come back?”

That was a question I did not want to answer honestly, so I chose to sidestep it. “Look at these doors, man. If they do come back, they’ll break in here in a second. Go home, lock everything, turn the lights out, and stay quiet. That’s your best chance.” Out of sight, out of mind, right? At least, that was what I hoped. “I’ll cover you, but you have to go right now. We don’t know how long this lull will last.”

He stared at me, plainly conflicted, but in the end, my logic won out. I held the door as they filtered out and scattered toward their homes. Not even five seconds had passed before I heard someone shriek, “There’s another one!”

“Damn it to hell!” I rushed out after the last person, preparing for a chase. “Go, now!”

But the werewolf standing at the edge of the road didn’t do anything. It was a little bit smaller than the others, which wasn’t saying much, and the fur on its body was a richer brown than the ones I’d seen so far, almost red. I fell into my default stance and raised the sword.

It looked at me for a long minute, neither of us moving an inch. I held my breath. Any moment now, this thing would throw itself at me. I had to be ready.

But I didn’t get the chance. Off to my right, another Were unleashed a hellish growl and crept toward me, its steps measured. It was a large gray beast and mangy as hell. I glanced over at the smaller creature. Its eyes were also fixed on the beast who advanced on two legs, mouth pulled back in a malicious sneer.

This one had my attention now, and I raised the Gladius, prepared to do what I had to.

“Come to momma, you damn mutt,” I whispered as I started to pace in a circle around the Were. It matched me step for step, and for a moment, I thought we were in a dance that might last for eternity. Just as I began to fall into the rhythm of our steps, the damn thing sprang like a jack-in-the-box that had been wound for a week.

I raised my sword in a mixed posture of offense and defense, but I never got a chance to use it. The smaller, reddish Were tackled the brute in mid-air, breaking its course. The two tumbled into the dust, snarls and teeth raging as they rolled in a ball of fur and rage. Finally, the two separated. The smaller of them bared its teeth and dared the brute to engage.

The gray Were glanced at me and back at its attacker. It let out a howl, turned, and ran for the cover of the forest.

I let out a long breath that I had been holding forever, but I still held Kronin’s sword before me. “Thanks,” I said, staring into the copper eyes of my savior-Were.

It bobbed its head, and in a moment, it had left as quickly as it had come.

There was no time to linger at the scene, but my thoughts stuck on the encounter. “What in the hell was that all about?” I asked out loud, only half expecting an answer from Marcus. For once, we were in almost the same boat in terms of what we knew and didn’t know.

I confess, I am not sure, he said. This inconsistent behavior is extremely puzzling. But for once, fortune smiled on you, Victoria.

“Yeah.” I shook my head to clear it. “Guess that’s a good thing, but still, I’ve got a real shitty feeling, Marcus.” A feeling like things were about to get worse before they got better.

Marcus did not disagree.

Chapter Sixteen

As morning broke over the torn-up town, I was running my ass around, securing perimeters and making sure there were no stragglers from the night before. If I stopped for too long, I became painfully aware that I’d had no sleep at all, so I kept myself moving.

The pleasant drunk buzz I’d gotten before the werewolves showed up in the center of town had long since worn off, but adrenaline fended off whatever inklings of a hangover might have tried to push themselves on me.

There was too much to do to worry if my head hurt or my body needed rest. The more ground I covered, the clearer it became that I’d only seen a small part of the wreckage. Everywhere I went, I saw bodies. There must have been nearly a dozen of them. Some were covered haphazardly. Others weren’t. They all bore similar awful, tearing wounds. I saw bite marks on the few I dared to inspect close-up before moving on.

Some of the bodies looked like they had started to change, but even those were still dead. I waited for a few minutes at the first one I found just to make sure. Yet another mystery added to the pile. Had the changes begun before, during, or after the attack? What was the cause?

I didn’t know. Marcus didn’t know.

The most I could do was finish patrolling the outside border of the town then return to the center square and report my grisly findings to the old, benevolent sheriff. He looked as though he had aged a decade in the past few hours, and he accepted the information with a tired nod.

“Thanks,” he said. “We need all the help we can get, especially as the body count keeps growing.”

“Of course. I’m here to help. What else can I do?”

The sheriff rubbed his eyes. “Well, you’ll need to keep checking to make sure things stay secure. And maybe while you’re out there, you could keep an eye out for survivors. We got a lot of dead, sure, but there’s more missing.” He indicated to his notepad, which was covered in a nearly illegible scrawl of names. “As far as I can tell, no one’s even seen them since the sun came up.”

“Shit,” I muttered. Not a good sign.

“Yeah.” He sighed deeply. “Yeah. I’m going to try to assemble a town meeting if it looks like it’s safe enough. And if I can convince people to leave their homes again.” A frown crossed his face. “Though maybe it’d be better if they didn’t. Maybe we ought to establish a curfew.” He ran his fingers through his thinning hair and closed his eyes for a moment. “Hell, I don’t know. But we’re not giving up. We’re going to dig in and salvage this town. Silver Banks won’t be another Mormouth.”

I left the sheriff to his burdens and wandered my way down the main road, looking for anything that might give me more clues as to what exactly was happening in this little corner of the Pacific Northwest. More of the bodies were slowly being covered up, mostly in an effort to stem the atmosphere of slowly growing hysteria.

But it was impossible to keep everyone from seeing what had gone on in the middle of town overnight. The bravest were starting to emerge from safety to come check things out, resulting in a whole lot of panic. And there was no reassuring information to mitigate that panic because nobody really knew what was going on—me included. I told myself to focus on cleanup and finding survivors. When some semblance of order was restored, then I could think about piecing together the puzzle.

I took it upon myself to take better inventory of the missing. Sheriff Rosewood’s list was already long, but I suspected it wasn’t comprehensive, and it sure wasn’t very readable. Going from door to door like some kind of macabre census taker, I asked the hard questions: if everyone was home, and if not, who wasn’t?

The task was heartbreaking in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Sheriff Rosewood was right: there were a lot of people missing, and I learned that all of them had families who were sick with worry. I wished there were answers, but I had none yet. Each house visit strengthened my resolve until I happened to find Wade Stevens’s place.

It was empty. I saw his name stenciled on the mail slot in the door and steeled myself for a confrontation, but a press of the doorbell and a loud knock yielded no answer. Standing on his porch, I tried to remember if I’d seen him at all during my canvass of the town.

“Marcus, have you spotted Wade around?” I glanced at the door one more time. It stood unmoving, the house silent. I retraced my steps back to the curb.

I do not believe I have, Marcus said. For the moment, he seems to be among the missing.

“That’s… I don’t like that.” I looked over my shoulder on my way to the next driveway.

I thought you were on less than friendly terms with him. His disappearance should grant you some comfort.

“No, I mean it gives me a bad feeling.” I couldn’t explain it any further than that, but a seed of nonspecific dread planted itself in my stomach. Given Wade’s big mouth, I would have assumed he’d be more visible than anyone, yelling all over the place about how he was going to teach these creeps a lesson. He was even more conspicuous in his absence.

I saved Smitty’s house for last, mostly because I knew Amber was pulling her weight as part of the relief effort downtown. No doubt she’d tell me if something was up with her grandfather. Still, I got goosebumps on my way up the path toward the smithy and the house in the glade. The furnace stood silent and cold beside the bellows. The windows in the house were empty.

“He must be helping out in town,” I said out loud. “I just missed him, right?”

Let us hope.

Before I even reached the front door, I turned around and booked it back to the main drag to make sure Smitty’s face was among those watching, helping, or milling around.

He wasn’t there.

I went up and down the street, checking every open building. Caution tape had been strung up around the broken doors to the local tavern, and a couple nervous deputies stood guard. They stepped up to intercept me.

“Ma’am, no one’s allowed—”

“I know. Have you seen Smitty?” I kept my voice level. “I’m looking for him.”

The older officer shook his head. “Not hide nor hair of him. I figure he’s waiting for this to blow over before he shows his face. He’s not much for this kind of general chaos.”

“You might ask his granddaughter, Amber,” the other deputy said. “She always knows where he’s at. They’re like two peas in a pod.”

“Right.” A sour taste pricked the back of my tongue. “Thanks.”

As I went back the way I came, it struck me that I hadn’t run into Maya, either. That was odd because she’d told me herself that she was the closest thing Silver Banks had to a full-time doctor.

Everyone I knew in town was gone, except for the sheriff and Amber. “Dammit,” I whispered. “What the hell is happening here?”

Frustrated and full of anxious energy, I turned my attention to helping with the movement of some of the bodies that still lay in the street. There was one little funeral home tucked down a quiet lane on the outside of the town center, but its built-in mortuary was quickly filling up. I was pushing a gurney back to the road when a commotion reached my ears.

“Vic!”

I left the gurney where it stood and bolted toward the voice calling my name. It was Maya. She came from the direction of the woods, half carrying, half dragging a bare body I also recognized. The old man’s skin was alabaster white, except for streaks and patches of scarlet.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, aware that a crowd was beginning to form around us. “Where have you been?” Maybe it was an unfair barrage of questions, given the current circumstances, but I was pretty fed up with not knowing shit. A faint pulse emerged from Smitty’s carotid artery, much to my relief.

“There’s no time for that,” Maya said. She hefted the blacksmith higher in her grip. “He needs help right now, and I don’t want Amber to see her granddad like this.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew I couldn’t, so I just caught up Smitty’s legs and helped her lug him into the clinic. We shut the doors on the ranks of curious onlookers, and after we got him situated on a table in the back, Maya made sure all the blinds were drawn. She was snapping a pair of latex gloves over her hands as she reentered the examination room.

Smitty looked worse than many of the dead bodies I had encountered that morning. For all their rage, the Weres were efficient killers—dealing massive damage then moving on for the next kill. But Smitty looked like he had been worked over for a good long time—and yet somehow, he was still alive.

His clothes were gone, his pale skin was covered in dark, half-dried blood, and after a moment of careful searching, I found the source. Both of his wrists appeared to have been hacked with an instrument not quite sharp enough to do the job.

I winced automatically, inspecting his arms. “This is seriously screwed up. Did he do this himself?”

Maya glanced at me sharply. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know a lot of murderers who go for the wrists,” I said. “Suicide victims, on the other hand…”

She shook her head hard enough that her hair bounced around her face. “I wasn’t born and raised here, but I’ve lived here long enough to know my way around, and I can tell you Smitty would never do anything like that. Amber is his whole heart. He couldn’t leave her even if he wanted to.”

I sat back, running my eye over the blacksmith’s prone form. Then I turned my attention to Maya. “Can I ask you something?”

She dabbed gently at Smitty’s injuries. “Depends what it is.” Her tone was curt and guarded.

“How the hell did you get him here yourself?” Last I checked, Maya was a tiny little thing, especially compared to Smitty’s build. I had a good nine inches and at least twenty pounds on her. But as I watched her work around the unconscious blacksmith on her table, I wondered if I could have been wrong.

Suddenly, she didn’t seem so small. The muscles in her arms filled out the sleeves of her work shirt. Could I have misjudged her height, too? It didn’t feel possible, but neither had a lot of the events of the past month. I was half-willing to chalk it up to the possibility that I might’ve been drunker than I thought when she’d shown up to the bar the night before.

Then she said, “Don’t worry about it,” without making eye contact.

Acting just like me when I had something to hide.

I didn’t force her to answer my question, but I made a note to discuss it with Marcus later. This town was too small to have this many strange things afoot. Too many people were acting cagey or were downright missing.

And too many were dead.

Chapter Seventeen

I lay cocooned in the warmth of my bed in Smitty’s third-floor room, by turns enjoying the comfort and torturing myself with unresolved questions. No matter how I took things apart and fit them back together, I couldn’t make the bigger picture gel in any meaningful way. Which meant I stared up at the hand-hewn ceiling in the false darkness of closed curtains at midafternoon.

Sleep continued to evade me. So, I talked to Marcus. “You up for a little theory crafting? It’s pretty clear I’m not going to sleep anytime soon. All this bullshit is filling my head to bursting.”

You should try to rest while you can, he told me. Your body requires rejuvenation, and this fight is far from over.

“Technically, I am resting.” I fanned out my arms and legs under the blanket and stretched all four limbs at once. “See? That felt awesome. I just can’t achieve unconsciousness at the moment.”

This is one of those times where it would be worse to argue with you. I can tell.

“Bingo.” I laced my hands behind my head. “So, let me hear it. What the crap do you make of this place?”

Lupres has beaten us to the punch. He spoke glumly. I believe he is creating his minions just as Lorcan and Lysiani created theirs.

Recalling the copious bloodstains all over Smitty, I grimaced. “I’m guessing blood is involved somehow. Again.”

Yes, but I am not sure how it is spreading so quickly to such a relatively large populace, if we assume all those who are missing have been infected. I see no way for Lupres to have established a base of operations as Lorcan did.

“Well, then that’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? That’s what we need to find out. How is this shit spreading, and how do we stop it?” I rolled onto my side. “Because if we don’t stop it, this whole town is gonna go six feet under. And I bet there’s another little town not that far from here that’s next on the list. And after that, another.” The pattern was painfully obvious, even after just two iterations.

The werewolves were going to expand indefinitely unless I put a stop to them.

What are your thoughts, Victoria?

“I’m thinking you might have been right all along,” I admitted. “We need to go on the offensive. We need to find Lupres by any means necessary and end him.”

It was hard as hell to think about putting down converted townspeople, but if this were to become some kind of werewolf pandemic, we’d have a real disaster on our hands. Seattle was three hours away. How long would it take for the wolves to reach that major metropolis?

Probably not too long at all.

A few lives for the greater good? I’d have to learn to live with that. But when it came down to it, I needed to trust that they were somehow connected. The hope was that if I could kill the source, I could end the outbreak. It was something to hold on to.

In the morning, Maya brought Smitty home in a wheelchair. The color had returned to his face, and the bandages on his wrists were hidden under a long-sleeved shirt and coat, a much improved visual from the morning before. I held the door as she pushed him into the front room.

“How are you feeling, old-timer?” I asked.

He mustered the strongest grin he could. “I’ll tell you, kiddo, this doctor’s not just for the dogs. I was a little afraid she was going to try to neuter me and put one of them cones around my neck, but in the end, she treated me just fine.”

Maya groaned, but she laughed anyway. “Don’t worry, Smitty. I still know you’re a mutt at heart.” Her laughter ended, and she rubbed his arm gently. “You scared me half to death when you came in looking like that. Lucky I didn’t just pass out then and there.”

She made no mention of the fact that she had actually carried him out of the forest and into the clinic herself, or that he’d been buck naked at the time. I supposed some things were better left unsaid.

I helped him out of the chair and into his recliner, then parked myself on the sofa beside it. “Smitty, can you tell me what happened two nights ago? Maya’s right. You were in pretty rough shape.”

He lifted his arms one by one, pushed the shirtsleeves up, and examined the dressings as if they might jog his memory. A faraway, slightly bewildered look settled into his eyes. “Well…” The word drew itself out. “I think I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to get some fresh air. That usually helps me knock right out again.” Smitty paused, awkwardly stroking his chin with two fingers immobilized by his wrappings. “I must have lost track of time because the next thing I knew, I was heading for the next town over. Not Mormouth,” he added. “Greenlake. West of here.”

“Why Greenlake?” I asked.

Smitty gave a small, stifled shrug. “Hell if I know. Everything after that is a blank slate. I woke up in the water with my clothes off. Something was dragging me onto the bank.”

I glanced at Maya. She was watching Smitty talk, her face impassive.

“Dragging you?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

“Yep. Don’t ask me what it was. Something big and hairy. That’s all I can tell you.” He held up one arm. “Oh, and I was bleeding like mad.” A coarse laugh made its way out of his throat. “Could be Bigfoot is real, after all. And maybe he’s my guardian angel.”

I smiled, but my mind was occupied. Smitty recalled a big, hairy creature pulling him from the water after his wounds had been inflicted. That version of events implied strongly to me that a werewolf had saved him, a scenario which stood in direct opposition to all of my experiences with the beasts thus far.

They could be frightened, driven back. But choosing to rescue a human? That didn’t fit in anywhere. Unless it wasn’t one of the Weres. I frowned. What else could it have been?

“Don’t look so worried there, girl,” Smitty said. “I’ll be right as rain in a few days. Only thing that hurts now is my pride.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to finish that blade you ordered. It’s nearly there too.”

“What blade?” Maya glanced between us.

“Oh.” I laughed. “No problem. It was stupid anyway. I’m just glad you’re still kicking around.”

The smile came back. “Gonna take more than a few cuts to check me out of this life.”

Maya reached into her pocket and brought out a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers. “For when the bravado wears off,” she told me, winking.

“Thanks.” There were a ton of things I wanted to ask her alone, but with Smitty right here, my questions would have to wait. “Could you stick around and make sure I get him settled okay?”

“Sure.” She stripped off her coat and hung it on the rack inside the door. “Not like anyone’s bringing their dog or cat around to the clinic right now. People are scared stiff of whatever is haunting the streets of our little town. They’re probably better off staying in, behind closed doors.”

I wanted to ask her how she knew about the Weres since she’d been AWOL the whole time they were in town, but I restrained myself. Smitty was almost as lively as ever, and he would certainly want to know details if he overheard. We tucked him in, fed him a couple pills, and watched him drift off to sleep as the excitement of being back home calmed down.

I let out a breath when I saw him resting peacefully. He was a tough old badger, but he’d had a really freaking close call.

“I should go,” Maya said suddenly, on her feet in a flash. “There are a lot of other people who need medical attention still. It’s too bad I haven’t mastered the art of being in two places at once.”

I stood up, too. “Are you handling everyone on your own? Let me help. I know some first aid. It’s not brain surgery, but it’ll take some of the workload off you.”

She smirked dryly. “No, you’re off the hook. The traveling doctor is going to get here today. You know, the one with a license to practice on humans? Apparently, one of the townspeople are bringing him in on some hunting trails on an ATV or something. I’ve been relegated to support staff.” With one last look at Smitty, snoring on his back in the bed we’d made out of his easy chair, she fished in her pocket and handed me a slip of folded paper. “My number, in case you need anything. I can’t promise I’ll be free right away, but I’ll come as soon as I can.” She paused. “I think he’ll be just fine, though. He’s a pretty sturdy old guy.”

I pocketed her number. “Good luck out there, doc.”

“Thanks. I might need it.”

Then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her. I flopped down on the sofa and sank down into the overstuffed cushions. “She’s hiding something,” I said to Marcus, quietly enough that my voice was drowned out by Smitty’s vigorous sawing of logs. “Right? I mean, why else wouldn’t she tell me where she ran off to? If she was lost, she should’ve ended up like Smitty, or worse. She’s no match for a werewolf.”

I do not disagree, but I think you should be able to present proof if you aim to accuse her of anything.

“I don’t want to accuse her. I just want someone to level with me about what I’m missing. Because I’m definitely missing something.” The gap in my understanding stood out like a sore thumb, and it was driving me up the wall. “At least we know the way to stop things, right?”

And what way is that?

“The same way we’ve stopped everything else. We eliminate the source.” I leaned my head on the back of the couch. “If I can kill Lupres, then all his plans should come grinding to a halt since he’s the one producing Weres.” The more I talked, the more sensible the words sounded. “And then maybe the werewolves he has turned will be freed from whatever power he has over them.” I paused. “This is where you tell me I’m right, Marcus.”

I certainly hope that you are, but I cannot be so sure. The servants of the gods must never be trusted, even when one is acting in their best interest.

“They’re not servants of the gods. They’re more like unwilling slaves, as far as we know.”

When they gave up their human form, they became his servants—willing or no. And that means they are operating in a different sphere of influence, further removed from you than you might think.

I chewed the inside of my lip. “Fair enough. Next Were we meet, we let the Gladius Solis ask the questions. If these things can talk, the sword will get them to squeal.” I slipped out the door and locked it behind me. “It’s worth a shot, at least. We have nothing to lose at this point.”

He sighed. That is a point I cannot argue. We had an old saying when were on the outer limits away from Rome.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “What was that?”

If there is nothing left to lose, then we are probably not winning.

“If we make it through this, I’ll have to introduce you to one of Earth’s wisest leaders. Her name is Oprah, and her thoughts about the power of positive thinking will blow your mind.”

Chapter Eighteen

No one seemed to notice as I slipped out of town into the woods. Without a clear path, my best bet was to head toward where I had last seen Lupres and hope that there was a trail to follow.

Failing that, Plan B was to wait until nightfall for the werewolves to inevitably find me and tear me to pieces. So I was placing a lot of eggs in the Plan A basket.

I was sore all over but thankful for at least one peaceful night for my body to try and repair itself. Whatever I was walking into, it definitely wasn’t going to be a pleasant affair.

If Marcus was thinking anything, he decided to keep it to himself. And for a while, my feet crunching over the forest floor was the only sound I heard, apart from the whistle of a cold wind through the branches.

It was almost peaceful.

Then something snapped behind me.

I stopped and stood stock still in the middle of the vague path. A soft rustle reached my perked ears. I turned. It could have been an animal, but my paranoia suspected otherwise. I’d spent quite a bit of time in the trees surrounding Mormouth and Silver Banks since arriving, and the only real animals I had seen thus far were the Weres themselves.

And I had that creepy feeling that came with being watched.

Wary, I started slowly forward, listening all the while. Sure enough, I began to pick out careful, rhythmic steps some distance behind me. They’d gone unnoticed while I was preoccupied with my thoughts, but now that my attention was undivided, the sound was unmistakable. I wondered how long whoever it was had been there and what they hoped to gain from tailing me.

A firsthand look at a viciously ugly werewolf god, followed by a swift, yet painful death? That was about all I expected as far as rewards went.

My follower drew closer, but it was such a gradual change that I doubted they even noticed. I kept pretending to be oblivious, letting their apparent curiosity do most of the work for me. Then, I whipped around in one dizzyingly quick motion, just in time to catch the disappearance of a silhouette behind a tree trunk. They’d walked themselves into a trap. Anywhere they tried to go, I would see them.

I approached the tree with my hand over the Gladius Solis, all my muscles tensed in anticipation. Rather than peering around the trunk myself and allowing for the possibility of a surprise attack, I stopped a few feet away and squared my stance. “Show yourself,” I called.

At first, I got no response. Just as I was about to make my demand again, someone emerged from the shelter of the trunk. Maya smiled sheepishly. “Uh, hey, Vic.”

“Maya?” I cocked my head to the side. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

She dug the toe of her shoe into the dirt, studying the ground. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on around here, but I want to find out. And I think you know more about it than you’re letting on.”

I frowned. “What makes you say that?” Other than the fact that I was currently sneaking through the middle of the woods a couple days after the town was attacked.

The vet gave me a look. “I’m not dumb, Vic. You showed up, the first stranger we’ve seen in weeks, and then, what? A day later, Silver Banks gets decimated by some kind of insane horde of monsters? That can’t be just a coincidence. Nothing ever happens here.”

I groaned, running my fingers through my hair. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, all right? I’ll take care of it. Go home and lock the doors.”

“Hell no.” She stared at me with defiant intensity. “You can’t just turn up here and appoint yourself hero of a place you don’t even know. If you can handle it, that’s great, but it’s my town more than it’s yours. I deserve to be able to help where I can.”

I eyed her, formulating an answer. A heavy thump broke the silence. Over Maya’s shoulder, I saw a form striding toward us. “Oh, no,” I muttered.

“If Silver Banks is anyone’s town, it’s mine.” Amber had her rifle and a pack on her back, and she too had fire in her eyes. “I was born here. I grew up here. My granddad’s lying in bed all torn up. And I’m not going anywhere until I figure out what happened to him.”

“It’s dangerous,” I persisted. “You’re asking to get killed.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Please, Vic. I can hold my own out here. You know this gun isn’t just for show.”

I did know that, but it didn’t reassure me. “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“That’s the point,” Maya interjected. “Face it, Vic. You’re not doing this alone. There are people here who care. Amber and I are two of them.”

I heaved a grudging sigh. “Girl Power it is then. If this is what you want, then come on. We don’t have any more time to waste.”

After that, I kept going, more than a little annoyed. I had nothing against either of these ladies—in fact, I liked them both a lot—but they sure had a knack for sticking their noses into my business. I resolved not to let it bother me. As long as they were here, I might as well embrace the help. We weren’t in any danger yet. Most likely, the second they laid eyes on Lupres, they’d be out of there no matter what.

I was kind of counting on it.

None of us spoke as we worked our way toward the river. Minutes turned to hours, but the forest seemed to stretch on without end. Amber kept pace with me well enough, but I kept noticing that Maya was distracted by something, lagging a bit. Knowing I couldn’t risk losing her among the trees, I slowed down and let her catch up. She was looking around as if expecting someone or something to leap out at her.

“Hey,” I called. “What’s the deal? I thought you were little miss nature lover? You’re looking over your shoulder like a tourist who took a wrong turn and got lost in the Bronx. Pretty sure no one is going to mug you out here.”

“What?” She jumped and stared at me. “Sorry. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” Her eyes made another circuit of the surrounding area.

“I get it. I’ve been dealing with this shit for a little while now. You don’t really get used to it. Especially the blood.”

“No, it’s not that,” her voice was low.

“Then what is it?”

“Um... no. It’s nothing. I’m fine.” Maya was definitely nervous, tugging at her clothes and hair. She nodded in the direction we were heading. “Let’s just keep going.”

“Wait a second.” My voice was like steel, and I put my hand on her arm for good measure. “You said you wanted to help. If we’re in this together, you’ve got to be straight with me. What the hell is going on?”

Maya opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Her eyes were wide, like she was afraid of me, of what might happen if she spoke.

Amber’s bootsteps fell silent, and I turned to make sure she hadn’t wandered off either. But she was simply leaning against a tree, watching me and Maya. I noticed she kept her hand resting near the gun’s safety.

I looked back at my new friend. “Well?”

Maya hemmed and hawed for a minute before giving in. “I’ve just got the craziest feeling of déjà vu. Or déjà rêvé technically.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

It means she has seen this place in her dreams.

I rolled my eyes. Showoff.

Maya didn’t notice. “Ever since you showed up, I’ve been having the wildest nightmares. Like, off the chain. I’m running through the woods—these woods—and there’s this voice calling to me. And no matter how hard I fight it, I can’t disobey.”

That is not an encouraging sign.

I nodded in agreement but didn’t want to freak her out. “It’s just a weird dream. You shouldn’t take it seriously.”

She shook her head. “You don’t understand. Last time it happened, I woke up in the middle of nowhere with no idea how I got where I was.”

I forced a smile. “Plenty of people sleepwalk.”

“I was also completely naked.” She rubbed a hand over her face.

“That…” I struggled for words. “Okay, that’s less than normal.”

“I thought coming out here would help clear my head, you know? But it’s only gotten worse. I’m afraid I’m losing my mind.”

I do not like this at all, Marcus chimed in.

“It’s fine,” I said, as much to him as to her. “You’re with us now, and we’re not going to let anything happen to you. Right, Amber?”

I looked toward the girl, and she nodded in agreement. “You saved Pops, so as far as I’m concerned, I’ve got your back for life.”

Good girl.

“On one condition that is,” Amber said.

Shit. Spoke too soon.

Maya looked up at her tentatively. “What’s that?

“If you get the urge to take your clothes off, you’ll warn me first.”

No one spoke for a long moment, and then Maya doubled over laughing. It was contagious, and before we knew it, the three of us were laughing our asses off in the middle of the woods.

By the time we settled down, the burden on my shoulders felt a hell of a lot lighter.

I took point again, leading our little party through the steadily darkening trees. The air grew cold and dense as the sun slid down below the horizon. I zipped up my coat. By the time it was dark, I could see the ghost of my breath in front of me.

I turned back to see Amber and Maya walking close together—like sisters. It made me smile.

Victoria, what do you make of Maya’s nightmares and new nocturnal proclivities?

“You mean the nighttime nudism?” I asked quietly. “I’ll admit, I don’t love it.”

I fear she may be under Lupres’s control.

“Hey, we don’t know that yet. Maybe Lupres is messing with her mind, or maybe it’s just the stress of everything. She said she didn’t start feeling weird until I showed up, right? I’ve been known to have an uncomfortable effect on people.”

I cannot deny that.

“And besides, you heard her. She’s been trying to fight it, whatever it is. So we treat her as a person in need of help, not as the enemy, got it?”

What happened to finding Lupres by any means necessary? She could be our link.

I shook my head. “No. You said it yourself. This is my quest. I can’t run it that way. I just can’t, Marcus.”

He was quiet for a minute, but his voice was softer when it returned.

You truly have a heroic spirit, Victoria. Let no one tell you otherwise.

A small lump threatened to form in my throat, but I choked it down. “Thanks, Marcus. That was really sweet.”

I meant it. And if your heroic spirit gets you killed, it will have been an honor serving with you.

And there it was. You can take the Roman out of Rome...

“Hey, Vic.” Amber’s voice touched my ear. She jogged to catch up with me, then grabbed my arm. “Let’s take a break. I think we all need it.”

Out of concern, I looked back at Maya, but she seemed as strong as ever. Stronger really.

“Really? I figured we could get another couple of miles in. Don’t tell me you’re wimping out on me.”

“Well... not exactly.” Amber’s tough exterior softened, and she seemed almost sheepish.

“Spill it,” I said.

“It’s you. You’re making so much damn noise, whatever we’re tracking could probably hear us clear on the other side of the state. Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to shuffle your feet when you walk?”

I leaned in to object, but my boot landed on a branch and snapped it in half. The crack rang out through the air. I looked down, then back up at the smiling girl.

“There are sidewalks in New York. And streetlights.”

She laughed. “Yeah, well out here, you’re kind of walking like an asshole.”

“Fair enough.” I smiled. “Maybe we should take a break. I think there’s a clearing right up there. We could make a fire, get some rest. We can pick this up again at dawn—quietly this time.”

Amber nodded, hiding her grin, then set off to prepare for our night under the stars.

We collected kindling around the edge of the small open space while Maya sort of idled in the middle. I had to move her aside to clear a space for the fire. She acted like she was in a daze.

“Are you sure you’re good?” I asked. “Maya?”

“Huh? Yeah, I’m fine.” She sat down in the grass. “Maybe I don’t feel that great.”

I flashed back to her leaving the bar because she hadn’t felt well, and I furrowed my brow. She didn’t look sick on the outside, but I wondered if she had a virus or something. Still thinking about it, I arranged my firewood in the middle of the makeshift fire pit.

Amber added hers and produced a book of matches from her pack. The flames crackled to life, throwing their flickering light over us. The heat was minimal but better than nothing.

I knelt, holding my palms toward the fire. Amber took off her pack and gun and reclined on her hands, gazing up toward the hole in the canopy through which we could see the sky. The moon was brilliant, and hundreds of stars dotted the blue velvet backdrop.

“You know,” Amber said, “I always thought I wanted to get the hell out of here someday. It’s so dull here. Everything crawls along. But then this happened, and I don’t know. All of a sudden, I’m invested in a way I never was before.”

“Makes sense to me,” I said. “Your hometown being boring is a lot different than your hometown being gone.”

“Yeah. Plus, Silver Banks means a lot to my granddad. And Pops means a lot to me.” A blush crept into her cheeks, and she turned her body defensively away from me, probably hoping I wouldn’t notice.

I smiled to myself. Kids. Man, I was glad not to be a teenager anymore. It was a bitch trying to be cool.

“These monsters?” Maya asked, her eyes locked on the sky above. “Where did they come from? I’ve been studying animals my whole life, and there is nothing—nothing—that can do what they do. They may look like wolves, but they’re not in the family tree. Hell, they aren’t even in the same forest.”

“That,” I said, “is a long story.”

“Isn’t that what campfires are for?” Amber pushed. “Long stories.”

Good point.

“Okay, but you all better get comfortable. Our story starts thousands of years ago.”

I launched into the tale that Marcus told me, of the gods and the violence they wrecked upon the earth. My friends took it well enough. Amber’s acceptance made sense—she had seen a god first hand. That wasn’t the kind of thing one forgets. But Maya only nodded, as if the missing pieces of some mental puzzle were finally shifting into place.

“Wow,” Amber said as I finished telling them about Lysiani and her hoard of whorish Harpies. “And you fought them all with that glowing sword?”

I nodded. “The Gladius Solis. It’s a kickass weapon in a fight. I would have been sunk without it.”

“Let me see it.”

I turned to look at Maya. Here voice was cold and low, but her eyes reflected the fire in an angry way.

“Maya, what—”

“The sword. Show me it, now!”

Be careful, Victoria.

I nodded. Amber inched away slowly from Maya. The creepy vibe she was giving off was almost tangible.

I pulled the golden hilt from my belt and held it forward. Maya hissed, almost as if in pain.

“Maya, it’s okay.”

“No. No, no, no.” She started mumbling to herself, her head in her hand.

I rose to my feet and stepped toward her. “Maya.”

“No!” she screamed then took off running into the woods.

“Shit.” Without waiting, I sprinted after her.

Branches whipped across my face and arms, but I paid them little attention as I let my body’s new speed carry me forward. I was moving fast, faster than I ever had before. Driven by fear for my friend.

But she was moving faster.

At first, I could hear her crashing through the brush, but the sound was growing faint as I lost the foot race. I knew in my gut that if I lost her, she’d be gone forever.

But the race ended before that could happen.

I broke past a large pine into an expansive clearing. There, in the middle was Maya. She was kneeling in the moonlight, her arms out to the side like she was waiting for something.

I covered the ten feet between us at lightning speed, but before I could reach her, she fell to the grass and started convulsing.

Though I’d never witnessed a seizure in person before, I thought she must be having one, so I reached to support her head in case she started thrashing. Her eyes snapped open, and I jerked my hands back.

Maya’s irises were the color of new pennies. I’d seen that shade of bronze before—in the wild eyes of the Weres roaming the town.

“Oh, this can’t be happening,” I murmured.

Amber dropped down next to me, panting. “What do we do? If we cut through the woods, we can get her back to the main road fairly quickly, but there isn’t a real hospital within at least fifty miles.” Like me, she reached instinctively for Maya’s head. I grabbed her arm.

“Don’t touch her.”

Amber looked at me like I was crazy. “You want me to just sit here and watch her—”

Maya tilted her head back and let out a noise that was part howl and part human scream. It started as the word “no”, but quickly morphed into the eerie sound of a demon. The teeth in her mouth surged from her gums, elongating into nasty fangs before my eyes. She arched her back as the muscles in her arms and shoulders rippled outward, tearing through her sleeves. Coarse, reddish fur sprouted over most of her exposed skin.

“What the hell?!” Amber shouted. “She’s one of them!”

Maya struggled to her feet, the tattered remains of her clothing hanging off her transformed, much larger body. She was right before. Whatever she was, it wasn’t something natural to this world.

“Maya,” I whispered.

But the creature bared its teeth and howled.

Chapter Nineteen

“Run, Amber!” I lifted the Gladius Solis and stood in between the girl and the creature who was once Maya. I had just lost one friend. I wasn’t about to lose another.

To her credit, Amber followed instructions without hesitation, fleeing into the cover of the trees. Maya’s head tracked her for a second before she focused back on me and the blazing sword of light I held in my hands.

“That’s right. I’m the one you want.” I strafed to the side just as she made a grab for me, her claws narrowly missing my midsection. I sucked in my breath, my heart hammering.

As her lupine face glared down at me, with those baleful penny-eyes, it dawned on me that I’d seen this werewolf once before. Standing on the edge of the road, staring at me like this.

“That was you?” I asked her. But if this red-furred creature was the same one who had saved my life before, it seemed intent on undoing that good deed. She snapped her jaws, and I pictured them biting through steel.

You know what must be done, Victoria.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, you better not say it,” I warned.

He said it anyway. You must kill the beast.

“She’s not a beast, Marcus! This is Maya. We just saw her transform. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.” Maya lashed out again, and I barely dodged her attack as I desperately racked my brain for a way to neutralize her threat without endangering her.

That distinction is unimportant if she tears you apart. Your quest is bigger than one person—better to be safe than sorry and end this.

“Not when it means I’d be safe and sorry.” Maya took a heavy step toward me, and I jabbed at her with my blade, trying to make sure I wasn’t close enough to actually hit her. She shrank back. Her hackles went up. “See, look? She hates the sword just as much as the rest of them. I can do this.” I paused. “I’m not killing her, Marcus.”

Necessary casualties are a soldier’s burden.

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not supposed to be a soldier. I’m supposed to be a hero.”

Maya lunged at me. Evading her grasp, I ran around to the left, aiming to use my position to confuse her as much as possible. But I’d forgotten that she was smaller and slenderer than most of her counterparts, and that made her faster. My margin of error was much reduced against her.

One of her claws caught the bottom of my pant leg and ripped the fabric up to my calf. A thin line of blood welled to the surface, and when she saw it, I swore her eyes grew brighter. The next thing I knew, her jaws were swooping down toward me, wide open.

I swiped the blade at her, praying she wouldn’t be close enough to take the blow. She yelped and twisted away from its shining arc. The blade’s flat connected briefly inside the crook of her arm, burning off a patch of fur. Maya flailed and howled in pain. The point of her elbow buried itself in my solar plexus.

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, frantically willing my lungs to fill up again. Her silhouette loomed over me, eyes burning in her skull. I tried to call her name to see if she was capable of understanding or recognizing me, but my vocal cords refused to generate anything more than a hoarse croak.

Maya lifted me up by the arm and held me dangling in front of her, appearing to scrutinize me. Then she flung me across the short expanse of the clearing. I slammed into a tree trunk so hard I saw stars.

Remember what I told you about necessary casualties, Victoria.

I grimaced. “No. No necessary casualties. I can save her.” I hauled myself to my knees, tightening my muscles against the pain. “Don’t say anything. Just let me do this, man.”

He stayed silent, and I refocused my energy on Maya. The Gladius Solis returned to my hand. She honed in on the light of the blade.

“Come on, Maya,” I said. “I’m trying to help you.”

She lifted her snout to smell the air, and for a split second, I thought she might leave, which wouldn’t have been so bad. Then, I’d have time to recover and track her down. But she headed straight for me instead, head low, ears back. Her growling was deep and full of menace.

I shook the fog from my head and forced myself to think. In roughly three seconds, she would be on me, and I had a feeling I could expect to get tossed again if I let her get too close. I looked around for pieces of a puzzle I could put together to form a solution. My gaze fell on the ever-present trees standing sentinel at my back. The one that had cushioned my impact was missing some bark. Seeing the damage gave me an idea.

Maya’s last steps took the form of a pounce, and as she pushed off, I swung my sword deftly behind me. Tendrils of smoke floated up from the point of incision in the tree trunk. The tree wobbled, and I rolled out of the way. Maya, intent on me, didn’t notice until the tree fell diagonally across her back, pinning her to the ground.

She scream-howled, throwing herself into a frenzy, but the ancient trees in the forest were too massively old and heavy for even a werewolf to lift. I soon discovered that it didn’t matter anyway; her cry was cut off, and she started to shrink. Her uncanny wolfish face morphed back into a human’s. The fur disappeared.

She was a young woman once again.

As I stared down at the unconscious form of my friend, I rejoiced inwardly that I had subdued her without killing her. It took me a second longer to realize that if I didn’t move her soon, the tree trapping her would finish the job.

I dove forward, wrapping my arms around the thick trunk. Digging my feet into the dirt, I pushed, but the thing wouldn’t move. So I turned to the only other tool I had.

Lifting the sword carefully, I hacked at the tree on either side of Maya’s body, then pushed the now newly cut round off of her. The bruised flesh of my back screamed in protest, but I ignored it. Seconds later, Maya was clear.

I leaned down and checked her pulse, relieved that she was still quite alive. Whatever Lupres had done to her, it obviously enhanced her strength and resilience, even in human form.

I didn’t know what to do, but I knew I couldn’t just leave her lying there naked. Nothing but rags remained from her earlier outfit, so I took off my coat and used it to cover her as much as possible. Then I lifted her up, fireman style, and began to move.

I’d be lying if I said there was a clear destination in my mind, but staying where we were would have been the death of us. There were enemies in this forest, and it was likely they heard the commotion our little fight had caused. For a second, I worried about Amber’s safety. But that young woman was tough as nails, and whatever danger lurked out here was more likely to come after me now. I was the one bleeding after all.

I walked through the pitch-black woods with the vet over my shoulder, watching my breath puff in front of my face. The cold wasn’t as much of an issue as I thought it might be, so at least I had that going for me.

So far, the night was almost eerily quiet, but I still traveled fast, in fear of what would happen if she awoke. Would she be herself or would the animal inside take over? The anxiety was enough to spur me into a slow jog.

Off to the side, nearly in my peripheral vision, the shape of a dark building emerged from the general shadow of the forest. The faint impression of a path traced through the ground cover toward its front façade. I followed it, adjusting Maya over my shoulder. She was clearly breathing, but her weight was disturbingly slack otherwise. I picked up my pace even more.

The building turned out to be a hunter’s cabin tucked in the embrace of two huge trees. I ran up the steps and breathed a huge sigh of relief when I found the front door open. Cobwebs stuck to my face on my way over the threshold. I brought Maya to the bare mattress in the corner and laid her down.

The cabin had no lights, so I used the flashlight on my phone to take stock of the room. The place was decently furnished but falling into disrepair; it hadn’t been used in a long time. All the surfaces slept under a thick layer of dust, and every corner was stuffed full of more cobwebs.

I knelt on the floor beside the mattress and took off my sweater, unwrapping my coat from around Maya’s body. The sweater, already baggy on me, was basically a dress on her. Satisfied with my efforts and shivering in just an undershirt, I put my coat back on, dug in the pockets, and used some of the rope I bought from Amber to lash Maya to the carrying handles on the mattress.

“Better safe than sorry, right, Marcus?” I blew into my hands to keep my fingers from fumbling the knots. “Shit, I keep forgetting it’s almost winter. Isn’t this climate supposed to be like, temperate or whatever?”

If— He stopped, apparently rethinking his choice of words. Would it be more comfortable in your home metropolis tonight?

“Hell no. It’s probably sleeting or something terrible like that. You’re lucky you were there for a week in fall.” It struck me as odd to be talking about the weather while I sat waiting for post-werewolf Maya to regain consciousness, but both Marcus and I knew we were just trying to fill the space… and avoid mentioning how he had advised me to kill Maya.

That was going to be the elephant in the room for a while.

I was half drowsing, fighting to stay completely awake, when Maya stirred, groaned, and tried to move her arms. The restriction snapped her into a fully conscious, minor panic attack. She sat as bolt upright as she could, gasping and kicking. Her left foot hit me in the back of the shoulder.

“Whoa, whoa.” I caught her ankle. “Calm down. You’re fine. More or less.”

The sound of my voice captured her attention. “More or less? Why can’t I move my arms? Where are we?” She glanced down at herself. “Was I naked again?”

I nodded, not without sympathy.

Maya tensed up. “Damn it,” she muttered. Thinly veiled emotion bubbled below the surface of her words. “What happened? Did you see it?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I did. It’s my sweater by the way, and you can’t move your arms because I’ve tied you up. We’re in an old hunting cabin I found while I was hauling your ass out of there.”

“I…” Maya trailed off, processing everything I said. “That raises more questions than it answers. These ropes necessary?”

I took a minute to debate my options with myself, hesitant to ask Marcus’s opinion because of the Centurion’s preferred, more draconian approach to handling her. Ultimately, I doubted we’d have the luxury of circumventing the truth for much longer anyway, so I opted to be honest. After all, we couldn’t afford to stay put overnight, and there was no telling what might happen now that she was awake.

“I’m going to give it to you straight,” I told her. “Okay?” She nodded somewhat warily. “You’re not sleepwalking. You’re a freaking werewolf.”

Under different circumstances, the look of shock and utter disbelief on her face would have been hilarious. I guessed it still was in a way because she immediately started laughing. Not just the normal kind of laughter, either. The kind where you start to wonder if they’ve really cracked up halfway through.

She stopped to breathe, and I interrupted. “I’m not kidding, Maya. You’re one of them, one of the monsters. I saw you transform. That’s why you’re tied down right now.”

Maya tried to wipe her eyes. “Sorry, Vic. I’m sorry. You don’t look like you’re joking, but I can’t even begin to believe that.”

This was not a conversation I wanted to get into with her at the moment, so I brushed it aside. “It’s fine, but I believe it, even if you think it’s some strange damn lie. So, I really, really need to know what’s going on with you. What you know. How this happened. It’s the only way to stop this.”

“Your quest,” she said doubtfully.

“Afraid so.” The image of werewolf Maya standing at the edge of the street, her eyes boring into mine, kept flashing back across my brain. “If it’s difficult, I apologize, but you have to tell me everything. I’m still your friend here. Maybe I can fix it.”

Maya closed her eyes, inhaled, exhaled. “Okay,” she said at last. “I admit there’s something I left out before.”

“Give me the big picture. Everything. I have to be able to see how things fit together.” I didn’t dare let myself hope that Maya somehow held the key to defeating Lupres, but she had to have something.

“I should preface this by saying I don’t really have a lot of dreams, or if I do, I almost never remember them. But it’s like I said. I started dreaming a lot recently, right around the time you showed up. The visuals are hazy—but it feels like someone is reaching out to me, calling me. Every night, the feeling gets stronger, and it’s not a good feeling. Whoever this is, it’s a person I don’t want to know.

“Then, after the first night, I started waking up in strange places, and I never have any clothes on. It’s always somewhere outside, too. Usually in or near the forest. One of the first times, I woke up in the smithy, like surrounded by Smitty’s work. Fortunately, he didn’t find me, but it was still incredibly mortifying. It didn’t even matter that I made extra sure to lock my doors.” Her face was pained. “I figured it was just sleepwalking caused by stress, and I told myself I’d see a doctor if things didn’t get better.” She stopped, her forehead creasing.

“Then what?” I asked.

Maya gazed at the ceiling. “I had a dream about Smitty drowning in the river.”

I chewed the inside of my lip. “You dreamed it?”

“Yeah. I woke up again—same as before. Naked. Alone. Afraid. But I couldn’t get the image of Smitty out of my head. So I grabbed some clothes and went out looking for him. It’s like my feet knew where to take me. And there he was, bleeding and naked himself next to that river.”

“You saved his life, you know?”

“Right.” She stared at a spot on the wall, deep in contemplation. “Look, that’s all I’ve got. Sorry if it’s nothing helpful.”

“But how did you manage to get him back to town? He’s not frail, and you’re no lumberjack. Since the dreams started, have you felt different physically?” I eyed her keenly, wondering how similar the effects of werewolf blood were to vamp blood, or the nectar.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She fidgeted with my ropes a little. “Do you really need to keep my tied like this?” She gave me a look. “I mean, I’m not a werewolf. Look at me.”

“Stronger, faster, better senses?” I ignored her request and pressed on with my questions. But she wasn’t really in the listening mood. When she fidgeted again and glanced at me beseechingly, I relented, leaned over, and undid my knots. “Sorry. Can’t be too careful.”

“About me being a werewolf?” The laughter was still in her eyes, but it shared the space now with the worry that I wasn’t joking after all.

“I told you, I saw it.” The details of our encounter remained tactfully omitted. It wouldn’t do Maya any good to know she’d thrown me into a tree trunk like a damn ragdoll. “I don’t just go around restraining people for the fun of it.” My thoughts turned ever so briefly back to Deacon trying in vain to free himself from the bedframe in the motel room. “At least not usually. So? Did you feel any different?”

“Well, I just assumed it was the adrenaline. They say that your body can do wild things when there’s need.” The fact appeared to distress her with its implausibility. “I mean, I’m not that strong. I shouldn’t…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about it more, and her face went through a series of expressive contortions. Signs exhibited by someone whose mind couldn’t quite wrap around everything it was trying to consider.

“Tell me more about the dreams.” I redirected her gently before her brain outright exploded. “You said someone’s calling you. Do you know who it is?”

“No.” Maya settled down into bewilderment. “But it’s masculine and menacing. And mean. I don’t hear it as much as I feel it if that makes sense. I just know what it’s trying to say.”

I stretched my cold fingers, wiggling my toes inside my boots. “What’s it say?”

“Not much in particular. It’s mostly just a summons. A call to arms maybe.”

It is Lupres calling to his servants, Marcus said. Perhaps when he creates them, he fosters some sort of connection. With their wills. Maybe you were right, and he is controlling them. It would explain much.

“What can we do about it?” The question was directed at both of them.

“I have no idea,” Maya said. “I don’t understand why this is happening, let alone how to make it stop.”

Victoria, I would like to propose an experiment, contingent upon Maya’s permission, of course. I signaled for Marcus to continue, and he went on. Because of her aforementioned connection with Lupres, I believe it should be possible to trace that connection to a certain extent. Perhaps not all the way back to its origin, but far enough that we may be able to glean some useful information.

“I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

Maya looked at me confused, but I ignored her. Marcus was about to earn his keep.

Just trust me. You and I have a similar connection too, something deeper than the physical. Perhaps I could use that to see beyond what she knows. To pull at the threads Lupres has laid down.

I tried to wrap my mind around what he was saying, but I decided to screw understanding and just to go with it.

“There might be something I can try,” I said. “It’s weird, and you’ll have to bear with me, but it might get us some answers.”

Maya was only silent for an instant. “Meh. Can’t be any weirder than tonight’s already been. Be my guest.”

“Thanks. And, uh, sorry.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

Put your hands on her head.

I scooted closer to her on the mattress. “This.” Her hair was soft and springy. “Please don’t ask. You’ll just make it weirder.” The medallion heated up against my skin, its energy flowing out along the golden chain and through the ends of my fingertips. I felt Marcus concentrating.

It was strange but also sort of nice, like we were really working together again.

Maya asked, “Did your hands just get warmer?”

“Don’t ask,” I repeated. “Just roll with it. I promise it’s not hurting you.”

“Whatever. It feels pretty good actually.”

I held my hands in her hair for a couple minutes, waiting on Marcus to say something. The medallion was hot now. I hoped it wouldn’t get any hotter.

Finally, Marcus spoke. He seemed almost out of breath, if that made any sense at all. It is not as effective as I had hoped, though not utterly useless. I could feel him. He has a hold on her.

“What does he want?”

That I don’t know, but I received a faint impression of a cavern. That is all.

I could work with that. “Maya, are there any caves around here?” As I spoke, I removed my hands from her head, careful not to pull her hair.

She looked puzzled. “Caves? Actually yeah, I think—”

A yell interrupted her. A human yell coming from deeper in the woods. We both stopped dead, eyes locked on each other. The whoop was quickly followed by another, and another, evolving into the general din of voices in a crowd.

“Who the hell is that?” I whispered, but the voice that came next was one I picked out immediately.

“Let’s go, boys! There’s a monster in these woods, and we’re gonna make sure it doesn’t get out of here alive!”

My face darkened. Wade Stevens may have been missing before, but wherever he’d been, he was back in full force.

Chapter Twenty

“Stay here,” I told Maya. “Don’t even think about moving.”

“I’m not about to run out there without my underwear.”

I crept to the window in a crouched stance, peering over the sill through the filthy glass. I saw Wade’s broad shoulders and barrel chest immediately. His men surrounded him. By the light of an old-time lantern, I could see that he wore the same kind of checked shirt he had on the first time I met him. There was a matching hat now, too, the kind with flaps coming down over the ears. Apparently, he wasn’t afraid to live into a stereotype.

“A monster,” Maya whispered. “Are they talking about me?”

“Shh,” I said, still watching. It was sort of shitty to sidestep the question like that, but I didn’t want to stress her out any more than I had to if I could help it. It was bad enough that she’d woken up with her arms tied down. “Let’s just—”

“What are we gonna do when we find that thing?” somebody asked.

Wade grinned and patted his gun, which was both huge and menacing. He held it at the ready across his body, barrel pointed down, for now.

I had to stop myself from sucking air through my teeth so that Maya wouldn’t know how screwed we might be. There was no doubt in my mind that Wade was likely to shoot first and ask questions later.

But why was he here? How did he know?

The answer revealed itself mere seconds after I asked the question. “Wade, wait! Wait, damn you!” Amber’s slender form ran into view, equally as distinctive as Wade’s. “You don’t understand!” She got right up in his face, jabbing her finger at his shirt pocket.

“What’s not to understand?” He stopped, but irritation leaked into his posture and his voice. His hands had not moved, nor had they released their grip on his weapon. “You told me the monster was out here, so me and my crew came to shoot it dead. If that’s not what you want, it damn well should be.”

“You didn’t let me tell you the whole story, you freaking oaf! I said ‘monster,’ and you just grabbed that stupid gun and hightailed it.”

“I didn’t come out here to work some damn diplomacy with the beasts.” That priceless line elicited a chorus of hoots from his pals. Empowered, Wade brushed past her. “Now get the hell out of the way and let a man work, will ya?” On his way by, he let go of his precious gun long enough to rap his knuckles on her rifle. “Wouldn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

“Is that a threat?” she shouted. Wade just laughed and kept walking.

Maybe it would’ve been better to let him move on but seeing him treat Amber that way made my blood boil. She was a kid and a damn smart one at that. She deserved more respect than he had in his whole body.

“Stay here,” I said over my shoulder to Maya. “Don’t let them see you.”

She stared at me. “Are you going out there?” Her head began to shake. “That’s crazy, Vic. You don’t know Wade. He’s not afraid to pull the trigger. Any trigger. Especially when he’s all hyped up like this.”

I signaled for her to keep her voice low. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with asshats like him for years.”

“Wade!” I heard Amber yell outside the cabin. “Get the hell back here!” Her voice started to travel, and I knew I was running out of time. With one last gesture indicating that Maya should keep herself hidden, I turned toward the cabin door.

Pushing out into the chilled night air, I caught sight of Wade and Amber ahead of me and opened my mouth. “Hey, Wade,” I called. “Looks like you’re lost. The dipshit convention is on the other end of the woods.”

Both he and Amber stopped dead in their tracks. She whipped her head around to give me a half-shocked, half-terrified look. Wade, on the other hand, was sneering when he faced me.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “Look who it is. I guess you weren’t lying after all, Amber. There is a monster in these woods.” I felt his eyes survey me up and down.

She stepped toward me. “Vic, I only told him because I panicked. I swear. He was the first one I ran into when I hit town.”

“And you’re lucky she did,” Wade said. “Yours truly can fix this shit for you just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “And I will. No charge.” The sneer widened. “This time.”

Man, this guy was the biggest douche.

“There’s no problem,” I said. “I took care of it. You can drag your merry band of assholes back home.” What I really wanted to do was ask him where the hell he’d been for two days, but this wasn’t the time or place. Not with Amber in the middle.

“Yeah? You took care of it so well you were hiding in that old hunter’s cabin, huh? Don’t think I didn’t notice you come slinking out of there.” He strode forward, closing the gap between us. “What’s in there, Diner Girl? Something you don’t want us to see, I bet.” Wade put two fingers in his mouth and produced a piercing whistle. His buddies fell into formation.

“Stop it!” Amber latched onto Wade’s arm, but he shook her off like she was nothing more than a mosquito. She stumbled backward, a desperate expression on her face. She had a pretty decent idea of where this was heading.

“Screw off, Amber. Don’t you have homework to do?” Wade pointed at the door of the cabin. “Let’s go, guys. Tear it off the hinges if you have to.” To me, he said, “It’s not nice to keep secrets, Diner Girl. Especially in a town that isn’t yours.”

“Oh, fuck off, already.” I maneuvered myself deftly in front of Wade, my hand on my belt. “I’ve been here long enough to know everything I need to know about your sorry, washed-up ass.”

His eyes narrowed down into slits. “I didn’t think you were the one looking for a fight,” he growled. “But I’m happy to oblige.” The index finger on his right hand slid down along the trigger guard. “Don’t know that there’ll be much of a struggle, though.”

“Oh, shit.” Amber made another attempt to intervene, and Wade tossed her back, sending her to the ground like a ragdoll.

He watched her drop, which gave me the only chance I was going to get. Before he could turn his gaze back at me, I stepped in and snapped a crescent kick, connecting with his gun arm. The force of the attack loosed the gun from his grip, sending it sprawling into the dark woods. Finally, something had gone my way.

A smirk bloomed on my face, and I raised my fists, ready to rumble. I knew I shouldn’t taunt him anymore, but I figured it was better to draw his focus to me than let him find Maya helpless in the cabin. “Looks like you lost your compensator, Wade. How you going to push around a couple of girls now?”

Frustrated, he spat into the dirt. “If you think I need that thing to take you down, you’re as dumb as you are annoying.” A viciously sharp hunting knife gleamed at his side. “Let me into that cabin, or I’ll gut you right here. I could make it look like an accident pretty easy. You know what happened a couple days ago.”

He was right up on me now, and I could smell the pungent reek of alcohol coming off him in waves. This close, he looked even worse than usual, animalistic. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot all to hell, and the whole lower half of his face was a field of scrubby, rough stubble. Dark circles stood out above his cheekbones.

“Damn, Wade. You look like shit.” I paused. “Okay, you’ve always looked like shit, but I mean, like real shit.”

Victoria. It is not polite to toy with your quarry. Marcus spoke with decorum, as if he wasn’t secretly enjoying it, too. One of the fundamental things I knew about the old Roman was how much he enjoyed a little well-deserved backtalk.

Still, the point was salient and well taken. I dropped the niceties. Just in time, too. Now blatantly furious, Wade snatched for the front of my coat, presumably to haul me off my feet in a classic tough-guy move. I hopped nimbly out of his reach.

The clouds were moving again, gradually drenching the area in an advancing fall of moonlight, and I was using the illumination to help me figure out exactly how much backup he had with him. The posse had been watching our confrontation escalate, and they were circling tighter. I counted five.

That was fine. I didn’t want to kill any of them unless they forced me, but I could work around that. At this point, these guys were the least of my concerns. If I had things my way, I would’ve ditched them all, taken Maya and Amber home, and then gone off in search of Lupres on my own. Kind of exactly how I originally planned.

Monsters made my life complicated enough, but freaking people kept getting in my way. I was trying to save their damn lives, but they were making my job exceedingly difficult.

Maya was still on the other side of the door, and I’d lost sight of Amber beyond Wade’s angry bulk. I was suddenly relieved I’d untied Maya from the mattress. It was highly unlikely that Wade would make it past me somehow, but just in case he managed, she’d at least be able to defend herself.

Wade balled his fingers into a mighty fist and took a swing. I easily sidestepped it, and he missed. All the alcohol sloshing around in his system caused him to tip unsteadily forward. I caught his wrist and pulled, using his own momentum to send him sprawling in the dirt. He got to his feet and swept a glare around at his semi-circle of cronies. All of a sudden, five more idiots were fumbling into action.

“Vic!” Amber’s shout didn’t help me pinpoint where she was, but my best guess was up a tree. I elbowed some kid with a missing incisor in the nose and followed it up with a roundhouse kick to someone else’s stomach.

I hoped she would have the sense not to shoot into the clustered knot of drunken hillbillies. They were a bunch of useless shit stains, but they didn’t deserve to die for it. A decent ass whooping by a girl would suffice.

The two I knocked down at the outset were already back on their feet and clamoring to reenter the fray. Instead of immediately resorting to whipping out the Gladius Solis, which was too big to operate in such close quarters without causing fatalities, I engaged Wade in a hard grapple, using his bulk to clear some space around me.

This is a very innovative strategy, Victoria. I commend your improvisation.

Wade filled his lungs and bore down on me with every ounce of his size. He obviously thought that I would buckle immediately beneath his undeniable man-strength, and the fact that I didn’t stymied his walnut-sized brain. His mouth screwed up into a line of obstinate confusion. “What… the… hell… is wrong with you?!” he growled. “Learn your place!”

“I have. My place is kicking ass and taking down guys like you, Wade. Every time I knock one down, another seems to pop back up.”

If I wasn’t slowly pushing him backward like Sisyphus and his damn boulder, I would’ve let go just to sock him in his ugly face. Beads of sweat were starting to run down from underneath that ridiculous hat into his eyes. He blinked fiercely, tossing his head.

That was the last thing I saw before the rage that poured through his veins took over. The next thing I knew, tufts of hair sprouted up between my fingers.

“Holy shit!” My gaze deviated from Wade’s for less than a second, and when I looked back at him, he wasn’t the meathead asshole I’d grown to know and hate over the last few days.

I was staring into the snarling visage of a Were.

Good old Wade wasn’t the only one. I threw him backward away from me, and as I finally drew my sword, I saw that two or three of his buddies were also undergoing a grotesque supernatural puberty.

“So that’s what happened to you,” I muttered under my breath. “Should’ve known.”

The silver lining of this situation is that you are able to justifiably slay this boorish man.

“Dammit, Marcus.” The golden blade leapt into existence, its light warring with the slanting silver moonbeams. “I can’t kill everybody, okay? Not even the village idiot and his butt-licking buddies.” I hated Wade, to be sure, but I was also pretty positive that he wasn’t smart enough to seek out this fate on his own. Which meant for once in his life, he was blameless for something.

I couldn’t kill him for that.

Your compassion continues to grow, my friend, Marcus remarked. Or perhaps it is just your empathy.

“Either way, it doesn’t mean I’m going soft,” I said. “And I’m about to prove it.”

The Gladius Solis cut its brilliant arc through the night. Wade threw back his great furry head and released a wild, bellowing cry. The two remaining human lackeys stood stunned in the depths of his shadow, goggling open-mouthed at the creature that their leader had become.

“Run!” I yelled at them, flourishing the sword for emphasis. “Get the shit out of here!”

That galvanized them into action for the second time, but now they were running away. I didn’t wait to make sure they were at a safe distance before striking out at the storm of fur and teeth and claws that was Wade. I still wasn’t going to kill him, but a form like that required a little more fighting power than even my blessed-by-the-gods body could generate on its own.

Wade’s Were form was lumbering and unwieldy, the antithesis of Maya’s, but I still missed him with the sword. He reared back on two feet, using that momentum to tip himself forward into a four-legged charge. I backed up on instinct, only to realize that the two others were circling in from my back right and left, triangulating me into a horrible bind.

“Marcus.” I glanced around. My throat went dry. “I might have screwed this up.”

Stay calm, Victoria. The buildup to this situation was largely out of your control. Do not focus on the factors over which you have no present influence. Concentrate on what you can do in the moment.

“Any ideas?” I gripped the hilt in both hands like a claymore. The sword made the other Weres nervous enough that they didn’t jump in like Wade, but I knew it wouldn’t take long for them to get over it once they saw an opening.

If I were you, I would focus on the leader. These creatures seem to be pack animals at heart. Perhaps if you best their alpha, they will scatter.

I pivoted to face Wade. “Worth a shot.”

He bent his head, preparing to mount another attack, and I readied myself to meet him halfway. He snorted and pawed the ground, his claws digging troughs into the dirt. But before I could move, Amber jumped out of the shadows behind him wielding a large knife.

In the moonlight, the thing looked like silver. I guess Smitty was closer to finishing than he thought.

With both hands, she shoved the blade into Wade’s shoulder. He reared back, howling in pain.

Amber fell to the ground and quickly scurried away from him as he lashed out.

“Yes,” I shouted. “See, Marcus? I told you silver would do the trick.”

But before my celebration could go any further, Wade’s long furry arm reached back and ripped the knife from his body. He glared at it, then threw it on the ground in disgust.

“Shit.”

It is unbecoming of a Centurion to say I told you so, but it looks like the alloy was unimportant. Your legends are flawed. Still, it looks like a lovely weapon.

“That’s pretty close to an I told you so.”

Wade turned to pounce on Amber then stopped mid stride. His ears twitched, and his eyes rolled in their sockets. Then a howl rose up above the trees, a low unearthly sound like the ghost of a giant, monstrous wolf.

The wolf that was Wade didn’t even give me a second thought. He pushed himself up on his back legs and peaced out as if he was in a trance. The other two fell into step behind him, melting into the deep blue-black shadows.

I stepped forward tentatively, waiting for them to return in force. But there was nothing. Silence descended on the woods again. “Was that Lupres?” I asked Marcus.

He didn’t have a chance to answer over the cacophony of a huge, splintering crash. A shape tore past me after the three departing Weres. All I saw was a flash of reddish fur.

“Damn it to hell!” The face of the old cabin had been retextured with a gaping hole, the front window totally gone. I jumped through the new opening, and needless to say, Maya was no longer inside.

I stood in the ruins of the room, rubbing a hand over my face.

“Shit.”

Chapter Twenty-One

I stood outside the wrecked hunter’s cabin, gazing out in the direction in which Wade and his cohorts had traveled. They weren’t heading toward Silver Banks. That much was abundantly clear. The most I could see was an even denser mass of bark and leaves. Things could have looked a little more promising.

But I had tracked a Were before, hadn’t I? In fact, tracking was one of the first things I’d done that was actually relevant to this whole happy shitshow. And if I’d done it once, I could do it again. Hell, it might even be easier with four of them tramping around out there. One of the aspects of Were biology I knew with absolute confidence was that those bastards had some big-ass feet.

Sheathing the sword hilt, I started to make my way along the path they had followed, already marked by flattened grass, crushed sticks, and broken bits of bark. Tracking the environmental damage absorbed me so completely that I nearly catapulted out of my skin the moment a hand touched my elbow.

Amber stood behind me, stifling a little smirk. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I put a hand on my chest to try and convince my heart not to burst through. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t shoot,” she added. “They were too close to you. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

“Trust me,” I said. “I’m grateful.” I looked at her. “Did you know Wade was a Were?”

“That’s what they’re called? Weres? Like Jacob in Twilight?”

“First, I’m glad to say, I don’t know the answer to that.” I shrugged. “Second, that’s what I’m calling them, for lack of a better name.”

“Fair enough. No, of course, I didn’t know he was one of them. I never would have brought him here if I did.” Her face clouded. “This is all my fault. I should’ve just run past him.”

“Hey.” I rested my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t say that kind of stuff, okay? You did what you could. It takes balls to stand up to a guy like him that way.”

Amber grimaced. That glint of stubborn toughness came back into her face. “Seems like us ladies are the ones in this town with the biggest balls. And I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up, Amber. Things just happened the way they happened, and we have to learn to roll with it. Also, you absolutely can’t come with me—no matter how big your metaphorical balls are. You ought to go back to your granddad’s house and make sure he’s all right.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh, shit, that’s right. You weren’t there, so you don’t know.”

My heart dropped into my stomach. “Know what?”

“Pops is missing. He’s gone. I went by the house before I ran into Wade, and the front door was wide open. I saw bandages and gauze and stuff on the floor.” Her right hand worked the strap of her gun nervously. “So, when I got help for you, I was hoping we’d be able to find him, too. But obviously, we haven’t.”

My first instinct was to comment on the severity of the situation, but I made the words stay internal. Amber was a smart kid; she already knew it was bad. And she probably felt awful about it without me rubbing it in. Still, I didn’t want her coming with me. It was impossible to predict what we might find waiting for us. If we found Smitty, I wanted to make sure Amber was alive to see him.

“I don’t know,” I said. “My plan is basically to follow their footprints until I find them. It’s the best I’ve got.”

“Maya was in the cabin with you, wasn’t she? That was her, the one who ran out. Did she tell you anything, or was she in full wolf mode the whole time?”

“No, we—” I stopped. “Wait.”

The cave, Victoria.

“The cave,” I said out loud.

Amber perked up immediately. “Oh, you mean Opal Cove?”

“What?” I stared at her. “You know it?”

She laughed. “I’m not some weird-ass out of towner like you. Those caves are, like, the only interesting feature for miles. Other than the reservoir itself, I guess. Where else are a bunch of backwoods high school kids going to drink cheap beer and hook up?”

“Hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Yep. You’re ancient.” The girl started off in a direction that wasn’t totally dissimilar from my original trajectory but different enough that I wondered if I would have made it. Noticing I hadn’t yet started to follow, she came back and grabbed my wrist. “Come on. You wanna go or not?”

I leveled my gaze at her the way I imagined a mom might. “Since you know the way, you can come with me, but on two conditions.”

The mom-look must have worked because she sighed and half-rolled her eyes. “First, since I know the way, you’re officially coming with me. But fine. What are they?”

“One: you follow every single instruction I give to the letter. Even if I’m telling you to get your ass out and run home without me. Two: you stay away from danger. Neither one of us is getting killed tonight. Cool?”

“How could I not be cool with staying alive?” Amber asked.

“Rule three: no sass talk.” But I grinned. Damn if the kid didn’t know how to lay on the charm.

“Sorry, Vic,” she said, skipping slightly ahead of me. “Can’t agree to that one.”

I knew we must be getting close to something when the phalanx of tree trunks began to peter out some. Then I saw something that seemed almost surreal after so long marching through the densest forest I’d ever experienced: the open slate of the night sky. The trees had been clear cut at some point up to the edge of a still blue lake, and voluminous brush had filled in the space.

Amber pulled me down into the vegetation. “See where the land starts rising over there near the top of the lake?” I nodded. “That’s where the biggest opening is. Opal Cove is like a whole system, though, so there are tons of other ways to get in and out. You’ll have to be really careful about watching your back.”

“I noticed you didn’t say ‘we,’ and I appreciate it.” I squinted as we crept closer, straining to pick out details in the dark. “It’s got to be guarded somehow, but I don’t see—” Just as I said that, the grizzled head of a white Were poked snout-first from the hillside, lifting its nose into the breeze. I grumbled. “Never mind.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’ll cover you.” Amber scurried through the groundcover to the place where a big boulder rested among the greenery, tucking herself along the side. “Perfect. I can see everything from here.”

“Watch yourself,” I warned. “They might be able to see you. I can’t say definitively how sharp their senses are.”

“I got it.” She smiled reassuringly and waved me forward. “Go, in case more of them are coming.”

I waited a few seconds longer until I could tell for sure which way the guard Were was looking. Its weirdly doglike tail swished lazily as it paced back and forth across the mouth of the cave. A torch blazed just inside, illuminating a roughly-hewn hallway. I glanced over my shoulder at where Amber waited near the boulder. The white sliver of her face peeked out from behind the rock.

She flashed a quick thumbs-up. I faced forward, shook off the nerves, and resumed my intrepid approach. The Were’s steps were slow but tireless. I’d still have to time everything right. Its pale eyes raked the open expanse beyond the depths of the reservoir, searching for any hint of movement.

I wondered who this one was. Whoever it was, I hoped I wouldn’t have to kill them.

Thirty feet out, I secured the sword hilt firmly in my grip. The next time the guard Were turned its back, I spurred myself into the quietest run I could manage, darting across the remaining distance to the cave. I was just outside the circle of flickering torchlight when the guard saw me. Its mouth dropped open, unleashing yet another howl. This one was different than the others, sharper and higher in tone.

If I had to guess, I would say that sound is an alert, Marcus cautioned. Take care not to let the beasts surround you.

“Still not killing them,” I told him. “We are doing this as peacefully as possible. It’s non-negotiable.”

Worry not, Victoria. I have long since given up negotiating.

Normally, I would’ve made a sassy reply, but the incoming Were distracted me. I swung the Gladius Solis in the widest radius I could manage, painting a bright golden slice in the air. The heat seared straight through the cold Pacific Northwest night, pluming out billows of white steam.

The white Were didn’t even flinch. Its claws slashed down at me so fast I heard them whipping through the air in the moment before I bent my body backward to avoid the razor-sharp points.

“Ah! You want to dance, huh?”

Teeth snapped less than an inch from me, stringing saliva across my coat.

“Not bad,” I shouted in its direction. “But now it’s my turn to lead.”

I gathered the strength in my arm and drew the sword back across. A sizzle and the acrid stench of burning hair assaulted my senses.

The Were yelped. A burn mark grew across its chest from shoulder to rib. Outraged by pain, it snapped at me again. The teeth snapped closed right outside my ear. Dry, hot breath rushed into my ear canal, too close for comfort.

I jabbed the blade inward at the same time as I sprang back. A claw sliced through the sleeve of my coat, and while I was looking at that, the other paw struck a stinging blow across my face. I winced, sprawling out prone at the mouth of the cave opening. The Were guard loomed above me in what was becoming a familiar sight.

Then the ground started to shake. Not a lot, but I knew what it meant. The reinforcements the guard had called were fast approaching, and if I was still on the ground when they showed up, I’d be in a pretty bad spot.

A white paw plunged downward, seeking to pin me in place. I rolled frantically, avoiding impact by a frighteningly narrow margin. A nebulous shape was starting to knit itself together at the far end of the hallway, sculpting into the defined and now familiar outline of another werewolf.

Every muscle in my body tightened. The side of my face felt hot and swollen.

I leapt to my feet. Once more, the guard Were swung at me, and this time, I nicked one of its sandpapery paw pads with the tip of my blade. Blood dripped from the wound, and although it appeared insignificant, the Were jerked its arm backward. Behind me, its companion thundered down the passage in my direction. I heard it breathing and felt its burning stare.

“Shit,” I whispered. They were going to sandwich me, and Marcus was three seconds from saying I’d have to kill one of them.

Then a shot rang out from back across the clear-cut field. Something invisible zinged past me, and the running Were’s rhythmic footfalls faltered unmistakably. Seizing the opportunity Amber had given me, I ran at the white Were in front of me and cut a deep gash in its meaty flank, effectively disabling one leg.

It fell, keening.

I felt a pang of remorse, but that only lasted as long as it took to remember that Lupres was probably somewhere inside. Reinvigorated, I turned to the Were that Amber shot. It, too, had fallen with one paw-like hand clamped over its side. Rivulets of blood ran down into the mats of dark fur. As I passed by, it scrabbled to reach me, growling deep in its throat. I lashed out with another mean slice, driving it back.

The floor of the entrance hallway ran red with blood. I wasted no time heading down deeper into the heart of the cave system, even though I could hear the two injured Weres whimpering and panting. I had to be content with the knowledge that what I’d done to them was better than the alternative.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I found out extremely fast that the Opal Cove caves were more like a labyrinth of twisting, increasingly damp corridors that smelled like stale air and mildew.

Occasionally, a gust of strong, fresh air would make its way through from somewhere, and I’d take in as much of it as my lungs would allow. But it was quickly replaced by a pungent, wet dog smell. My quest to keep humanity safe took me to the loveliest places. I followed the unpleasant odor, confident it was taking me in the right direction.

Eventually, the gradient of the path, which had been on a steady downhill trend, evened out. I felt like I was walking on regular flat ground again. Muted sounds echoing through the tunnels led me to the right of a fork in the passage, and then my nectared eyes picked out the twin pinpricks of light flanking what looked to be a door.

The adrenaline kicked into my veins. Was this it? Had I finally found Lupres’s secret subterranean lair? Unable to contain my anticipation or impatience, I broke into a stealthy jog down the dark hallway, ears tuned for any abnormal sound. My footsteps were relatively quiet, and I smiled, thinking that Amber would be proud of me. And who knew? Maybe I could still retain some element of surprise.

The torch-flanked door turned out to be a doorway that transitioned into a huge, open, high chamber. More torches speckled the chamber with unreliable, flickering light, lending the whole place a spooky, ethereal aura. At first, I didn’t see anyone. My eyes were busy taking in the unmistakably thronelike structure that had been erected at one end of the room on a crude plinth. Atop this throne sat a beast I recognized immediately, if only because of his one missing hand.

Lupres.

We saw each other at the same time—it was clear he had been waiting for me—and he raised his arm in an insultingly lazy motion. I thought he was greeting me like an asshole, but then more Weres emerged from the shadows—a lot more Weres.

They’d been standing watch in the deep darkness surrounding his throne, hewn from the natural rock of the cave’s wall. I didn’t take the time to count them individually, but somewhere between twenty and thirty was the range my brain automatically spit out.

In short: not good. Really not good.

I was simultaneously longing for backup and super glad I hadn’t brought Amber in with me. These were some truly bad odds, and I wouldn’t have been able to focus on the fight while worrying if she was safe.

“The girl who bears the sword.” Lupres’s grotesque, uncannily lupine face arranged itself in the closest achievable approximation of a smile. It was not a pleasant look. I wanted to physically recoil, but I steeled myself and glared straight into his cruel bronze eyes.

“I’ve been looking forward to this encounter,” he said. “Not many creatures have the strength to wound me. Your death shall be exquisite, as is befitting your skill.”

Pay no attention to his threats, Marcus said.

“Why, you think he’s bluffing?” I whispered.

Surely not. Lupres’s skill is remarkable. You are lucky he did not kill you last time. I was simply encouraging you not to focus on these dire straits. The power of positive thinking, as your Oprah would say, yes?

I shook my head. So close, and yet so far.

Lupres laughed, exaggerating the malicious glee plastered all over his furry countenance. “Nothing to say for yourself, human girl? You were much more talkative in the woods. Perhaps now you have learned some manners.”

“Sorry,” I responded. “You’ll find I’m not the best of students. None of us are, humans I mean. Not really. Especially not under threat from butt-sniffing dickheads like you.”

His smile remained, but the light in his eyes dimmed. “I will teach you respect before this night is done. And as for the rest of your puny race, I have already told you. I am not here to earn their fear but to purify them.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Purifying them. Because to me, this looks like devolution. I mean, at least humans don’t lick their own balls.”

“You are too stupid to understand, but as I said, I will teach you. These that you see before you are simply the beginning. They have drunk of my blood and taken my flesh. And in return, they will spread my glory to the world.”

“How?” I asked.

“The ritual of course. One that I performed for thousands of years before Kronin trapped me in that hell he called heaven.” He spread his long arms wide enough to touch the shoulders of the Weres standing closest to him. “Under the light of the full moon, my faithful servants will leave this chamber, climb to the surface, wade into the depths of the water, and commit their lives to the cause.”

I frowned. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? “You mean—”

“Yes.” He licked his lips. “They are more than my servants. They are incubators. And they will gladly tear their bodies asunder to release my blood into the world. This reservoir feeds millions. Most will not survive the transformation, but the army that emerges from the chaos will carry my power throughout the world. And then, no human, no god, and no stupid girl will be able to stop me.”

The Weres answered with a chorus of rumbling growls. Apparently, no one dared to howl in the presence of their supreme leader. He was right. They were all ready to die for him. To tear up their own wrists and bleed out—infecting millions. This was worse than Lorcan’s factories. This would be an epidemic.

“You’re a bastard,” I shouted. But it barely made a dent against the cacophony echoing through the chamber.

I looked around, trying to size up the army before me, but my eyes singled out Maya’s reddish fur. She stood to the left of the god, staring straight forward, as mesmerized as the others.

Lupres noticed me eyeing her and sat up straighter, his posture interested and predatory. “Oh? Could it be that you have formed a connection with one of my vessels? Fascinating.” The tongue emerged again to make a circuit around his glistening teeth. “I can hardly say I blame you. The weakness of humans is utterly astounding, isn’t it? It is only natural for you to seek out a being of higher power with whom to ally. Perhaps you thought you would be granted shelter from the great, imminent violence. I am sorry to dash your hopes.

“But fear not. I, Lupres, am a most generous deity. I will give you the chance to be with her before she dies.”

He flicked a claw in Maya’s direction. Her eyes cleared. She shook her head and stepped forward. My fists clenched in rage as I realized what was about to happen.

“You’re a monster,” I hissed through my teeth.

“No, not me.” He sat back, the aura of smug satisfaction palpable. “Her.”

“Maya, no!” I shouted, hoping desperately that something might make it through to her.

She reached for my throat.

I caught her by the wrist, forcing her grasping paw upward and dodging underneath, away from her. Maya growled her displeasure, raking down her claws. The very tips caught the back of my coat—I felt the fabric hitch a little as I spun out of range. She tried again immediately, her speed more than evident in close quarters. Grimacing, I vaulted backward. A ripple ran through the onlooking Weres.

“Give them their space, my acolytes.” Lupres spoke like a doting parent. “This dispute is theirs to resolve.” He chuckled low in his throat. “For us, it is merely the entertaining side of justice.”

I pulled in my breath and centered my focus on the person in front of me. If I looked hard enough at that Were, past her gleaming eyes and teeth and claws, I could see my friend buried under layers of a supernatural scheme she’d been forced to facilitate. I knew that if I could figure out what would make her respond, she’d break out of there. I wasn’t sure how I knew; I just knew it.

Talk to her, Victoria. Remind her who you are and who she is. Try to get as close as you can. I have an idea, though I cannot guarantee its success.

An idea was better than nothing. I dodged around Maya’s next strike. “Maya, can you hear me? It’s Vic, and trust me, you don’t want to do this. There’s no way for things to end well for either of us unless you break out of that mind prison this jackass put around you.” She swung. I crouched. “I know you don’t want to be a sacrifice, Doc.”

Her lips pulled back from dark gums. She raised her hackles. I couldn’t tell if that was because she heard me and it was pissing her off, or because she was just pissed off in general.

Lupres was talking again, but the words didn’t even register in my brain. I laid my own voice over them to drown them out, keeping my eyes trained firmly on Maya. “You’ve got to be at least a little aware of what’s going on here,” I said. “Look at all these people. They’re citizens of Silver Banks, just like you. They have jobs, and lives, and families, and pets. You’ve probably seen their dogs and cats dozens of times, right?”

The ice-cold malice in her gaze flickered a little. Her next step faltered. I evaded her more easily than before. Not by a lot, but enough to let me notice something had changed. Maya grunted, ears twitching.

Good. Keep going. Remember to get close if you can.

“If I get close, she’ll freaking eat me,” I muttered under my breath, careful not to let Lupres see me speaking.

No. You will have to trust me.

“How can you just say ‘no’ to something like that?” I wondered. But I did trust him, so I started to creep in closer at every opportunity. What little ground Maya gave, I gained in a flash before she could think about taking it back again. Of course, those claws and lightning reflexes helped her regain some. There wasn’t much I could do about that.

Still, little by little, I chipped away at her. It was clear she wasn’t a fighter in her human life. Her attacks, though fast and unpredictable, lacked cohesion. Once I got used to that, dodging her almost became second nature.

That meant I could keep talking. “Remember the other day when I showed up at the clinic with my shit all torn up?” I asked. “Or how we put all those sick burns on Wade at the bar? I’ve known you for a matter of days, Maya, but you’re still my friend. I need you to snap out of it and help me kick some ugly werewolf ass.”

She staggered again, pitching herself down onto the cave floor. The peanut gallery edged closer. From his VIP seat, Lupres made a disappointed scoff. “Get up!” he barked. “No child of mine will be defeated by a human!”

“Do you hear this bullshit?” I asked her. “You’re not his child. You’re not his follower. You are a boss-ass bitch from Oakland, and he has no right to tell you what to do! You’ve been fighting his call for days. You helped stop the rampage in Silver Banks. You saved Smitty from the river.”

Maya’s arms dropped to her sides. She stood swaying slightly, blinking as if she’d just been hit in the head. For the moment, all aggression faded from her demeanor.

Now! Marcus commanded. Grab her!

I had no time to ruminate on the logic of grabbing a Were. My instincts kicked in, and I just did it. As I charged toward her, Lupres roared, “What are you doing? Kill the human wretch!”

Maya turned toward him at the same time that I jumped forward. My fingers buried themselves in the fur on her shoulders. I wrapped my legs around her back, clinging for dear life.

“Whatever you’re doing, Marcus, you better do it fast!”

Put your hand on her head.

Maya thrashed wildly, nearly breaking my nose with the back of her skull. Shielding my face, I took hold of her hair and forced her to hold her head somewhat steady. She began to buck in rebellion, trying valiantly to shake me off.

Against my chest, the gold medallion warmed. I flashed back immediately to our talk in the hunter’s cabin, and it dawned on me that Marcus was a damn genius. If a connection with someone other than Lupres could be forged with enough strength, it might break her mental bond with the god.

This was probably why Marcus had been the one serving in Carcerum, not me. I understood how to play my part, though. Locking my fingers against her scalp, I retained my death grip even as Maya threw herself around the room, slamming into things and bowling over her compatriots. The other Weres didn’t do much to help, possibly because the last thing they’d been instructed to do was to give us our space.

Like before, the gold metal grew hot on my skin. I hunched my shoulders, trying my best to protect my head from incoming surfaces and debris. Marcus’s energy hummed through my veins, pouring through the tips of my fingers into Maya’s brain.

“Remember, Maya,” I said. I thought it was a whisper, but I was actually yelling, trying to break through. “Remember that I saved Amber, and Smitty, and that I protected you. We are in this together.”

Nothing. Damn it.

“Come on, Maya!” I yelled in her ear. “Work with me here! I don’t want to do anything else to you. You’re better than that thing, than him! Come back!” The medallion burned, but I didn’t care. If this was what it took to snap Maya out of her murder-fugue, so be it.

Maya whipped her head back one more time, and then her fierce struggling abated so suddenly, my first thought was that I’d killed her somehow. She stood stock still, perfectly upright, her whole body heaving from exertion.

“Maya?” I asked tentatively. My grip on her fur did not release, just in case the reprieve was only temporary.

“Vic.” Her voice was low and gravelly, like she’d suddenly picked up a vicious cigarette habit. She turned her head toward me, fixing one much calmer eye on my face. “I’m… I’m back. Sorry I didn’t make it any easier.”

I grinned. “Would’ve been disappointing if you had.” Not quite true, but she seemed to appreciate the levity.

“Impossible!” Lupres boomed, killing the moment as swiftly as I was sure he’d like to kill me. I dropped down off Maya’s back, and we both glowered in total defiance of the god who thought he’d controlled her.

“Are you ready?” I asked Maya. She nodded. “Then it’s time to end this for good.”

Lupres let out a mighty roar, summoning the rest of his minions with a commanding sweep of his arm. “Tear them to shreds!”

They fell on us, a wave of hungry shadows. But at least now I wasn’t alone.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Maya and I stood close as the swarm of angry Weres engulfed us. Unable to put it off any longer, I unleashed the Gladius Solis, and just its mere presence afforded me some instant breathing room. This time, it didn’t last.

The Weres were urged on by whatever psychotic hold Lupres had over them—not even the fiery glow or the burning heat of the sword could dissuade them. I held the hilt in both hands, chopping with half-measured, overhand slices through the air.

I still didn’t want to kill any of them, but there were so damn many. Too many. I’d be overwhelmed soon if I didn’t start cutting them down.

“New rule,” I said out loud, partly to Marcus and partly to myself. “No one dies, but they might get hurt real bad.”

Once the words were out there, I felt like I’d signed a contract with the universe or whatever, and I took off the kid gloves. Soon, blood was flowing in red rivers from open wounds on Were bodies. The air filled with the yelps and whimpers of the Gladius Solis’s victims. Just like old times, except it came with a vague sense of unease that hadn’t been there before.

I wasn’t going soft, but maybe I was growing up some.

Maya on the other hand was less than generous. A lifetime of pacifism and pent up aggression were channeled through her monstrous form. Despite the fact that she was smaller than almost all of them, they fell before her fury.

Victoria. You must destroy Lupres if you want to survive this fight without causing harm to the others.

A pair of furry arms locked in a vice grip around my torso, straining to pull me to the ground. Another limb swiped for the sword and almost succeeded in knocking it out of my hand. The world went upside-down as I reeled backward precariously on my heels. My fingertips caught the very edge of the hilt. It flipped back up against my palm. Bracing myself, I sliced blind at the Were holding me hostage.

A warm, thick current rushed out over me. The Were’s arms loosened, and then one of them fell away onto the floor, the clawed paw still twitching. Its owner, a huge grizzled silver male, howled mournfully, forgetting about me in the haze of shock and pain. He backed off, doing his best to cradle the bloody stump.

Victoria, Marcus said again urgently.

“I got you,” I told him. “I was just a little, uh, preoccupied.” And now I was covered in Were blood. On the plus side, it appeared to camouflage me a little, as long as I was right in the thick of the melee. The strong, sharp smell did a lot to cover up my telltale human scent. Though I was still embattled, the fight eased up in the sense that there was no longer a mob of Weres attempting to tear me limb from limb.

Which did not mean I had an easy way forward. The whole chamber was clogged with a surging, battling mass of bodies, all hellbent on preventing me from reaching my destination of Lupres’s rock throne. If I had thought the trees were a phalanx, they had nothing on the wall of furry flesh knitting itself together before my eyes. I shoved and cut and stabbed my way forward, but the going was painfully slow, the Weres infuriatingly resilient.

A loud crack echoed from somewhere near the ceiling. Up ahead, a smaller Were dropped like a rock, bringing the three surrounding her down as well. Another crack sounded, and another. The Weres stumbled, whirled around, took to their knees. They clutched arms, legs, sections of torso. The gunshots—I knew now that was what they must be—kept coming.

“Dammit, Amber.” How had the girl even gotten in here without anyone noticing? She was either more clever than she had any right to be or luckier. Or maybe both. I still made a mental note to acknowledge that she may very well have saved my ass; in terms of time, anyway. I wanted the sun to rise on Lupres’s dead body. And now my favorite feisty seventeen-year-old was making that possible.

“I owe you,” I whispered, glancing up at the ceiling as I plowed my way down the path Amber had cleared. At the end of it, Lupres sat in the crude seat of his throne, presiding over the chaos with a stony expression fixed on his untamed, grotesque features.

When he saw me coming, that face twisted into a mask of rage. He leapt up, seized the Were closest to him, lifted his own lackey over his head, and hurled him at me. I spun clear, and the hapless Were crashed into a squad of his compatriots. Swatches of fur went flying.

“Worthless!” Lupres bellowed. It was unclear if he was talking to his henchmen or me, so I assumed both just to be safe. Hurdling over the last few Weres convalescing on the ground, I lifted the Gladius Solis so its light shone directly into Lupres’s eyes. He snarled. “Out of my sight! No relic of Kronin’s belongs here!’

“Come take it from me, then,” I said. “Pry it from my cold, dead hands.”

“Gladly.” Lupres launched himself off the edge of the plinth, arms and claws outstretched. He caught the flat of the blade, and even though I could see and smell it burning hair and skin, he did not let go. The sword was wrenched to the side, twisting my wrist. I only held on to it harder.

Under pressure from this god, neither blade nor hilt would bend, but I felt myself almost being lifted off my feet by the sheer force of the god’s strength. The Weres who were still fit for battle regrouped behind me.

It was a mistake. Amber, still holed away in whatever nook she’d found at the top of the cave, reloaded and began firing into the pack. All clumped up like that, they might as well have been fish in a barrel for her.

“Find the sniper!” Lupres demanded harshly. “I will take care of this pest.” His dramatic bravado was undermined somewhat by that one tiny hand, which I couldn’t keep from smirking about whenever it came into my view.

“How long is that gonna take to grow back?” I asked him. “Because, like, maybe you should have thought about that before you cut it off.”

“Silence!” He lunged at me and actually hit me so hard we both fell to the ground.

The rough rock dug into my back through my coat and thin undershirt, but I didn’t let the discomfort show on my face. I was too busy trying to work myself into a position that would let me shove Lupres off me in the most commanding way possible. Meanwhile, his nails dug for my throat.

“I want to see you suffer,” he spat. “Humanity’s agony will be nothing compared to yours.”

“Would you can it already with the melodrama? It’s like a really bad movie.” I managed to unpin my knee from beneath him. “And the only agony to see here is yours.” And without further ado, I drove my kneecap up between his legs, right into the Were-family jewels.

His rancid breath rushed from his lungs as he folded up on himself. Good to know even the gods had their weak spot. But being a god, his strength didn’t falter like I was hoping. In fact, I swore his holds clamped down harder. A sharp point drew a spot of blood at my throat.

“You will pay the dearest price,” he hissed, looming over me.

Each fang in his mouth was as least three inches long. He pinned my twisted wrist down, trapping the arm with the Gladius Solis under my body. This arrangement was outrageously painful. My vision blurred around the edges, and I wondered if I would pass out.

Then he made the biggest mistake I could hope for. He shifted his weight. The tiny change was enough for me to force my sword arm free, and as he pushed down on my wrist to inflict pain and assume the most dominant position, I took the sword and rammed it up through his stomach.

He snarled but refused to die. I twisted the sword and pushed it up higher.

“This is for Mormouth,” I said, then pulled the blade free up through his collar bone.

Lupres went rigid above me, his face completely slack. Not wanting to be caught beneath his bulk when he inevitably collapsed, I rolled awkwardly to the side. He gurgled. A foamy stream ran from the corner of his open mouth, pooling to join the rest of the mess on the floor. The tiny, creepy fingers of his baby hand trembled. So did his intact arm.

A smile crossed my lips as I thought of the perfect final words. I couldn’t help myself. Really. “Play dead, you son of a bitch.”

You could have heard a pin drop when Lupres finally hit the ground. I wiped the trickle of scarlet off my throat, wincing at the sting. The god took one last rattling breath before his body went still. After that, it was like a giant switch had been flipped. Every Were in the vicinity turned his or her head to see their mighty sovereign in a widening pool of his own blood.

A racket of barking, yelping, howling, and who knows what else shattered the silence. These sounds quickly devolved into yelling as Were after Were fell to the ground, writhing. Slowly, fur fell away to skin, and the monsters reverted back to their human form. They were all stark naked, but I had seen so much crazy shit that it hardly even registered to me. Plus, I was fresh off of killing a god.

Congratulations, Victoria! That would be your first true kill. Victoria Stratton, godkiller.

I ran my fingers through my hair. “We’ll worry about the praise later, dude. I’m just glad we pulled it off.”

Yes. Lupres’s plan would have been disastrous if allowed to come to fruition.

“Don’t worry. There are still plenty of problems.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m looking at a bunch of them right now. What are we going to do with all these people? No chance they all turn back to normal, huh?”

Lupres is dead, which means he no longer has a hold on their minds. But they still ingested his blood. That change is a permanent one.

I nodded as I looked upon the newly freed people. Some I recognized from Silver Banks, but others were new to me. They must have been from Mormouth or other nearby towns. There was no telling how far Lupres had reached in the last few days.

As the survivors came to, the scene was rapidly devolving into a state of chaos not much better than the fight, what with all the crying and screaming and confused bleeding. I hadn’t prepared any sort of emancipation speech, but I was rapidly coming to see that I should have.

Wade pushed his way through the front of the group. “Do you have any idea what you just did to us, Diner Girl?”

“Uh, yeah.” I folded my arms. “I saved you from the mind control of a crazy god. Literally, a god.”

“Yeah, a god who gave us more power than we could have ever imagined.” He stared hard at me. “He controlled us, but he made us better for it. What did you do?” He pointed. “You beat the shit out of townspeople.”

I followed the line of his index finger to see Smitty seated cross-legged on the floor, his old, wrinkled face as pale as it had been when he was pulled from the river. His left arm ended just above the elbow in a tourniquet currently being applied by Maya. Amber knelt beside him, looking like she was trying not to cry.

“Oh shit.” The color drained from my face, too. “Oh shit!”

“Yeah. How about that? You cut off Smitty’s arm.” A hideous note of triumph stood out in Wade’s voice. It was as though he were almost glad for the damage I had done. “Thanks for saving us.”

His volume steadily increased until the words carried throughout the whole cave. Eyes turned to us, including Smitty’s. The old man scowled at Wade.

“You know why she cut my arm off, Wade?” Smitty asked. “It’s because I was trying to kill her with it. Nobody needs that kind of talk here, boy.” The words dripped from Smitty’s mouth with a disdain I didn’t think he was capable of. “Let us figure out what the hell we are before you start pushing some harebrained agenda.”

“I’ll tell you what the hell we are.” A faintly maniacal light sparked in Wade’s eye. “We’re the gods now! And we’re always going to be stepped on by people like her, who do more harm than good in the name of some bullshit self-righteousness. Lupres gave us a gift. I’m sure as hell not gonna waste it.”

“What do you mean by that?” Maya asked flatly.

Wade’s grin was cruel. “I mean I’m taking back Silver Banks, whether you like it or not. This place was founded on the backs of the Stevens family. We slaved over the land, as far as the eye could see. And once we finally tamed this god-forsaken corner of the country, you know what happened?”

“I have a feeling you’re going to tell us,” I quipped.

He ignored my charm. “A bunch of soft as hell assholes waltzed in and settled in to the town that we created for us. Damn, Silver Banks belongs to me, and I’m taking her back. I’m stronger than any one of you. I’ll take who I want and kill who I don’t. If that doesn’t seem fair to you, well you can take it up with the big guy upstairs.”

“That’s madness!” Despite his pallor, bright spots of anger stood out on Smitty’s cheeks. “You hear yourself, Stevens? You want to cull the population like a herd of livestock?” Several other voices piped up in outraged agreement. Someone referred to Wade as a “psycho butcher.” I was inclined to agree.

So was Wade. “That’s exactly what I want, Smitty. And you and your friends are gonna be the first on the chopping block. Once we get rid of the dross, we can take the town back. Make it what it was meant to be.” He turned to the anxious crowd, staring at him wide-eyed. “Who’s with me? Once we get rid of these few naysayers, we’ll have total freedom to do whatever we damn well please. Silver Banks will be ours! The world could be ours.”

To my great chagrin, a cheer rose from the masses. I moved around to stand between Wade and my friends, the Gladius Solis held out in front of me. “Over my dead body,” I told him simply. I’d gotten used to wagering with my life in the recent past.

“That can be arranged.” He didn’t give me time to do anything but block his rush. As he ran, his frame grew back into the shape of a Were, and by the time he hit my sword, all traces of humanity were gone from him.

“I didn’t want to kill you, Wade.” I looked past him at the cluster of his supporters. They, too, were dressing back up in wolves’ clothing. “I didn’t want to kill any of you.”

“Shame,” his Were-voice growled mockingly. “Now you have to. I’d rather die fighting than go back to the way things used to be.”

“All right, then. I’ve put up with your shit long enough. Now you’ve given me no choice but to put you down.”

Maya appeared at my shoulder, all Were. “Can I help?” she growled.

“Yeah.” I grimaced. “You bet your furry ass.”

“You got it,” Maya replied, and as she did, the Weres who had chosen the side of darkness attacked.

Battle heated up around me. As I fought Were after evil Were, I glimpsed Maya and Smitty locked in battle close by. While Maya was swift and crafty, Smitty was a powerhouse, attacking with brute strength and accuracy, the gifts that made him a master metal worker. Throughout the battle, Smitty directed the others who chose to stand with us with strategic mastery.

Were after nasty Were fell to their attacks.

After only a few minutes, the fighting stopped. I stood flanked by my friends in the relative silence of the cavern. Wade and his closest cronies were the only ones left standing. We’d all anticipated this outcome, even Smitty, but there was still a lull as we sized each other up, maneuvering around the fallen. Wade stretched to his full height and beat his paws on his chest.

The universal, cross-species symbol for come at me, bro.

Leave it to him to pick some really shitty last words.

Maya and the remaining Weres on our side took on Wade’s friends. Wade and I squared up for one final standoff. I’d expected him to talk some, since he typically had such a hard time keeping the utter stupidity from flowing out of his mouth, but his hatch was battened down. He just wanted to get it over with.

First thing we had ever agreed on.

Somewhere off to the side, a bone snapped. Maya flung one of Wade’s friends across the cave. I shook my head. For a tiny, mild-mannered vet, that girl could go hard as hell. Then Wade was barreling down on me, and I had to rein in my attention. Tunnel-vision closed in on him. He was my target, and he was the only thing that existed aside from me and Kronin’s sword.

The first cut was a drive-by, inflicted as he blew past. A red trail of blood laced the air after him.

He spun and advanced again, trying to catch me with one heavy shoulder dropped toward my torso, maybe aiming to break my ribs or toss me Maya-style. Pulling up the sword in a defensive stance, I goaded him on.

“Come on, ya fleabag. Come and taste the blade of the gods.”

He skidded to a stop and reoriented himself. The blade waited patiently in my hand, bloodless and brilliant.

Standing up straight, he let out a noise that was half laughter, half growl. “Blade of the gods? In the hand of a human, what good might it do?” He gestured to his friends fighting mine. “We are the new deities. All the greatness of humankind, infused with the power of the eternal.”

I waved the Gladius Solis in front of me. “I’ve got your infusion right here.”

Wade ran at me again. I cut him again. The blood loss slowed him down now, and I thought his third pass would fizzle out before it started.

But as he turned to face me, his hatred blazed in his eyes, and he found a third wind. The sound that left his throat was eerie, inhuman.

I stood directly in his path. When I knew he’d passed the point of no return, I held the sword straight out. He could have called off the attack if he wanted to. He could have chosen not to lunge at me with all of his strength.

But he didn’t.

Wade was dead before his body hit the ground. I withdrew the killing blade and stood quietly over him, watching the rest of the fights play out. At the end, Maya and I gathered the survivors and brought them up to the mouth of the caves, Smitty and Amber leading the way.

I spent the whole way back trying to figure out how the hell to tell Sheriff Rosewood that nearly twenty of his citizens were dead.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Rosewood sat for a long time with his head in his hands, exemplifying the way we all felt. Maya, Smitty, and I gave him the silence he needed to soak it all in.

I had come up with some fancy rationalizing speech, but the second I stepped into his back office and looked him in the face, I couldn’t get anything out but the bare truth. To his credit, he’d listened all the way through before burying his head, and his immediate reaction hadn’t been to excommunicate me from Silver Banks for good or slap me in handcuffs.

Really, I had already gotten the most I could hope for.

That being said, it was something of a shock for him to lift his eyes to mine, fold his hands atop his desk, sigh, and say, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

They would have all surely died.

I cleared my throat. “It’s okay, Sheriff. I was just doing my duty, same as you.”

A warrior and a diplomat. My choice in hero was excellent.

I wanted to say something about how his first choice for hero pissed himself when they first met, but the Sheriff was already responding.

“So what do we do now? Do you work for the government or something? Will they have people to help deal with this? I don’t know if I’m the man for this job.”

It pained me to deny him that little bit of solace, but I shook my head. “That’s not true. You’re exactly the person to help Silver Banks move on. And unfortunately, you can’t really bring in anyone from the outside at this point. The evidence we had is gone; all we’ve got is a bunch of human corpses in a cave. That’s pretty high on anyone’s list of things that don’t look good.”

“You don’t think there’s anything the military or the FBI could do?” Rosewood looked like he wanted to crawl in bed and sleep for a million years. He’d aged a decade in the twenty minutes we’d been sitting around his desk.

“Other than commit everyone involved to the nearest asylum? No. Not to mention that things on a larger scale aren’t even close to over. There will come a day when I’ll need Weres on my side, I’m sure. And I’d like to know I have a place to find them.”

The sheriff nodded wearily. “All right. I’m choosing to trust you, as I know that without you here, this could have gotten much, much worse.” His smile was sad but genuine. “For that, the town of Silver Banks will always be grateful.”

“But what about the other towns in the area?” Maya chimed in. “There are little hamlets like this all over. I find it hard to believe Lupres only focused on one.” She paused for emphasis. “And remember, I found Smitty just outside of Greenlake, bleeding all over creation.”

“Son of a gun probably told me to spread the disease,” Smitty grumbled. “And I had no choice but to say yes.”

“It’s not your fault,” Maya said soothingly, glancing down at what was left of the blacksmith’s arm, hanging in a sling. “That body we found in the river, that was how Lupres took control of Silver Banks. And it stands to reason that other places may also be infected. Which means there may be an indeterminate number of Weres out there. Who knows how they’re going to act now that the big bad leader is dead?”

I pursed my lips. “Maybe they’re all like Wade.”

Smitty scowled. “I’m still bothered by how many sided with him.”

I would’ve been lying if I said I wasn’t too. There was one other thing that made my skin crawl. “Plus, think about how the infections have happened so far. Mormouth was gone in, what? A day? That was probably where Lupres began his assault—where he took his hand. Here, it took a little longer. We don’t know what’s happening in Greenlake, but I’m willing to bet that because Smitty was recovered before he could finish the job, things are progressing even slower there. We could be seeing new Weres for weeks or months.”

“Can you stay?” Rosewood asked me. “I think your services to the town are more than enough compensation for room and board.”

I chewed my lip. “I don’t know, Sheriff. I don’t think so. This is the third major incident I’ve witnessed, in the third separate location. I can’t expect things to stay static for very long out there in the world. And when the shit hits the fan again, I bet it’ll be somewhere else. Not to mention, I’ve got unfinished business with a bunch of vampires in New York.”

He stared at me to see if I was joking, then nodded grimly when he saw the serious look on my face. “Well, I’m sad to see you go. I’m sure we all are. But I can’t rightly ask you to forfeit your commitment to the greater cause for our sake.”

“I’m not leaving you empty handed,” I said, stealing my own glance at Smitty.

“Don’t worry, Leland,” Smitty said. “I got it covered. The shop’s like a damn armory these days. And you know my granddaughter’s got one hell of a shooting eye.”

I chuckled. “You’re telling me.”

“Plus, missing arm notwithstanding, I haven’t felt this good in years. We’ll cook up a militia. A Were Army. There are still some of us here who are good, and anyone who wants to help can come and be armed. Then we search out the new ones, track ‘em down, keep ‘em in line. If they won’t stay in line, we get rid of ‘em before they have the chance to spread.”

“Your confidence is inspiring, Smitty,” the sheriff said.

“Hey, I’ve seen Weres at work,” the old man replied. “Hell, I’ve been one—guess I am one. It’s nothing to mess with, believe me.”

We shook hands in silence, a pact between us that only those who have gone through hell together and made it out could understand. It was an agreement to wade through hell again if the need arose. I left the Sheriff’s office, knowing that Silver Banks was in capable hands.

Still, there was a little bit of sadness as I packed up my few things in the attic room of Smitty’s house. Amber had given me some clothes from her bottomless closet, which I was pleased to see actually fit me pretty well. Other than that, I didn’t have much. I arranged everything neatly inside the big backpack I’d gotten at a discount from the general store, laid the sword hilt on top, and zipped it shut.

A soft knock made me look up. Smitty crossed the threshold. He had something wrapped up under his arm. “Got you a parting gift,” he said. “Take a look.” The old man lowered himself into the desk chair and watched me unwrap the package.

My breath caught in my throat. “You found it.” The silver blade, ornately carved, glowed in its bed of paper atop an expertly wrapped hilt. It was so beautiful I could have almost cried looking at it. During the chaos of chasing down Maya, I had forgotten Smitty’s blade in the woods.

“I heard my granddaughter took it for an early test drive,” the blacksmith said, scratching his head. “So I made her help me find it and give it the finish it needed. Too bad the whole silver thing was a bust though.”

“Silver might not do any more damage than steel,” I said. “But it’s still one big-ass knife. I’d wager in the right hands, it would make a fierce weapon.”

He gave me an odd look. “What do you mean the right hands? I saw you fighting in the cave. Surely you’d know how to use something like this.”

“Smitty…” I carefully rewrapped the silver blade, picked it up, and handed it back to him. “I love this. It’s the most incredible gift anyone’s given to me in a long time. But I want it to stay here with you.” I smiled. “I’ve already got a sword. But a one-armed militiaman at the right hand of the girl fighting the Forgotten is going to need a damn good blade himself, don’t you think?”

Smitty grinned back at me with more than a hint of pride as he looked down at his weapon. “Yeah.” He placed the knife on the table and grabbed my hand in his. “I guess he is.”

“Hey, Vic.”

I looked up from the book I’d taken off the shelf in the attic room to see Maya standing in front of me on Smitty’s porch. In the waning light of the afternoon, her black hair had reddish highlights, the same color as her Were fur. The effect was weird but also badass. A reminder that she was more than she once was.

“What’s up? You doing okay?” I laid the book down on my lap.

She shrugged. “Still a little rattled to be honest. I’ve spent my career saving lives. It’s remarkable how easy it could be to take them.”

Putting the book down, I closed the distance between us and pulled her into a hug. “You did good,” I whispered. Stepping away, I rubbed her arm and smiled. “And I for one was glad you accepted a violent approach—at least when it wasn’t me you were slobbering after. You’ve got some mad skills. I’m going to miss having you by my side.”

“Yeah… about that…” She trailed off, but I caught the hint of a question in her voice.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking about what you said in the sheriff’s office, about doing your duty.” I braced myself for a bombshell. “I don’t think I can stay here, either.”

Not what I was expecting. “Why not? Didn’t you say you liked it here better than in the city?”

“Well, yeah, and that was true when I was a veterinarian, but now, I’m not so sure what I am.” She parked herself in the other rocking chair and rocked it gently on the balls of her feet, staring out toward the horizon. “I thought you were mistaken or joking about me being a Were at first. Now I know you weren’t, and it’s like I don’t even really know myself anymore. I need to figure out who I am and how to deal with this new body. I’m not sure I can do that here.”

“Okay.” I sensed she had more to say.

“But when I was with you, when you had your hands on me, I felt the only real peace I’ve known for days. It has to mean something.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

She glanced at me. “I was going to ask if I could come with you. It’s not as crazy as it sounds, I promise. I have savings, and a car, and camping gear in storage. And while you’ve got a lot to teach me about your world, you seem like you could use a level head in your life, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

You have not told her about me yet, have you?

I laughed, which made Maya laugh, breaking her spell of nervousness. “I’d like to say I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you’re totally right. My life is often lacking in the common-sense department.”

I have plenty of that. You simply never want to listen.

He was on point today.

“Sure,” I said. “Come with me. It’d be nice to have some company in the midst of this crazy mess.”

I am perfectly charming company. Though I admit to lacking a corporeal form, which hinders my charm somewhat.

“Thanks, Vic. This really means a lot to me.” Maya smiled, and I thought I saw her eyes well up a little. Poor thing. And I thought I’d been through hell.

“Pack your bags tonight,” I told her. “We’ll head out tomorrow morning. Don’t want to risk missing the next big event.”

She left shortly thereafter, and as I watched her trek down the path out of the glade, I thought about how drastically the face of my circumstances had changed in a week. “I guess we’re really living in the short term,” I said to Marcus.

One of us is, anyway. As I mentioned a moment ago, I have no corporeal form.

That made me smile, like he always did at the end of the day.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I put my hands on Amber’s shoulders. “Promise me you’ll keep an eye on that cranky old badger,” I said, nodding toward Smitty. He scoffed, but a smile hid in the depths of his beard.

“Of course.” Amber threw her arms around me. “Don’t be a stranger, okay, Vic? You’re literally the coolest person who’s ever come through Silver Banks. And I mean literally.”

“Said the girl who could outshoot me with her eyes closed.” I grinned. “I’ll be back. You can’t get rid of me that easy. You stay tough. Keep this town safe.”

She saluted. Smitty and I shook hands, and then I hopped into the passenger seat of Maya’s Subaru. The thing was loaded to the gills, but even weighed down, it ran like a dream. That made it easier for me to hide the fact that I was kind of having cold feet about the whole partner thing. In fairness, Maya had never called herself my partner or even mentioned the word, but that was what it felt like to me.

It was unfair of me at best, and outright shitty at worst, but I’d always been a loner at heart, a solo flier. Marcus integrated into my routines so easily because he wasn’t physically there. Also, he had a knowledge base I couldn’t hope to acquire on my own. And he had trained me to fight.

Plus, I could always stick him in my nightstand if he was being an ass.

Maya had patched me up at the crack of dawn on my first day in town. Upon reflection, I had to admit that was pretty decent. Even with the nectar, the addition of a medic to the team was far from the worst that could happen. And besides, it wasn’t like my best friend’s club hadn’t already expanded by one. I had Namiko in San Francisco. Sometimes, I even sort of had—

“Deacon?” I spouted, looking out the windshield.

Maya had turned the Subaru down a dirt road leading out to the interstate, and a big black Suburban was blocking the path. I could’ve recognized the chiseled profile of the agent leaning on the side of the hood from a mile away.

“What do we do?” Maya asked softly. She was clearly on edge. “And why didn’t anyone tell me they make lawmen who look like that these days? I could have been a cop!”

I snorted. “I’ll handle this. Give me like, ten minutes.”

“Girl, for that man, you can take all the time you need.”

Okay, so maybe acquiring Maya wasn’t such a bad idea after all. I was still chuckling as I approached Deacon’s vehicle. “Can I help you, agent?”

“You can tell me what the hell happened after Mormouth. And while you’re at it, you can apologize for tying me to a motel bed.”

“Oh, please. I’ve had guys beg me to do that kind of shit.” I leaned on the opposite side of the hood, resting my chin on my hands.

“Seriously?”

“Nah. But I knew a girl once…” I flashed him a smile. “Besides, the cleaning crews come around every morning.”

“Yeah, and I thought they were gonna eat me alive.” He shook his head. “Seriously, Vic, what is all this? I get the feeling that there are a million things working below the surface, but you won’t even give me a hint. How can I help you like this?”

I smirked at him. “I don’t need your help, Deacon.”

“Bullshit. Every time I see you, you’re in trouble. I bet you’re in trouble right now, aren’t you?”

My eyes rolled dramatically. “No, I’m not in trouble, thank you very much.”

“Then you just got out of it.”

That caught me a little off guard, but I recovered quickly. “Deacon, I’m flattered that you want to be at my beck and call so bad, but I don’t need anyone. Not even you.”

“Who’s the girl in the car?” he asked abruptly. “Someone else you don’t need?”

“She’s a friend. Jeez, you’re nosy today. But I guess it is your job.” I was determined to keep things lighthearted.

He made that difficult, as was his wont. “You’re coming from Silver Banks, huh? Anything interesting up there?”

“It’s very sleepy,” I said. “I took a lot of naps. Read. Got my nails done.” The look of utter disbelief he gave me was totally worth however annoyed he got.

“Okay. Whatever.” He shrugged elaborately. “You want to tell me what I’m gonna find in Silver Banks?”

I mimicked his shrug. “You seem like the kind of guy who likes surprises. But don’t worry, I got things under control.”

He laughed, which made my cheeks burn a little. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Deacon.” I pushed away my half grin and put on my sincere face. “Look, I don’t say this enough, but thank you.”

“Vic, you’ve never said that. Ever.” A beat of silence went by. “But you’re welcome anyway. God knows why.”

Maya looked at me as I climbed back into her Subaru. “So, are you gonna dish on this guy or what?”

“No big deal,” I said.

“Uh huh.” She put the car into gear and pulled off after Deacon’s disappearing tail lights. “Because I look at ‘no big deal’ like I want to have it for Sunday dinner, too.”

I sat back and folded my arms, side-eyeing her. “You’re a lot sassier once you get out of a medical environment. And I thought you were—”

Maya held up her hand. “Nothing wrong with a self-assured lesbian admiring a good-looking man in a suit.”

“Uh huh.”

Maya laughed. “Well, just be assured that I won’t be competition for you with Mr. Smooth as Butter. You have any other men in your life you should tell me about?”

I glanced down at the odometer. New York was over 2500 miles away.

“Let me tell you about my friend Marcus.”

Epilogue

Lorcan’s mouth smiled over his snifter of brandy, which sat perched in his long, slender fingers. He touched the rim of the glass to his lips, and a sliver of the tawny liquid disappeared. “What a fool Lupres was,” he murmured. “Such impatience should be a sin, don’t you think?”

Delano wasn’t drinking. He never compromised himself in the presence of his lord. Like always, he stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back, not looking directly into Lorcan’s eyes but not facing away from him, either. It was a delicate business, serving a god as mercurial as Lorcan.

“And such stupidity.” Delano could not keep the bare scorn from his voice. He had never, ever been anything other than disapproving of Lupres’s boorish ways, and a sense of relief was all he felt knowing the beast was dead. “He took too many chances, my lord. Far too many.”

“Indeed.” The corners of Lorcan’s mouth turned down. “His scheme, though? It was quite grand, but it took shape much too soon.” A smooth laugh cascaded from the god’s throat. “The idiot.”

Delano cleared his throat. “But the girl, Lord Lorcan. She is becoming something of a problem.”

“Hmm.” Another sip of brandy disappeared. “She’s impressive, isn’t she? Rather remarkable, I’d say. Lupres may have been the worst kind of oaf, but he was hardly a pushover. There was absolutely no reason to believe he wouldn’t destroy her completely. Do you know what this means?”

“What, my lord?” One of Delano’s most-used skills was his ability to recognize questions that were meant to be responded to, not answered.

“She is getting stronger. Her bond with the sword grows deeper. Soon, she will hold her own against gods greater than Lupres without breaking a sweat.”

“Is that possible, my lord?” Delano could still see her in his mind, standing outside the slaughterhouse with that infernal sword in her hand. She hadn’t looked like the successor to the Gladius Solis then, and he would bet she didn’t now.

“Everything is possible, my dear Delano. As exemplified by the situation we are currently facing. I had hoped it would not be so, but the time has come. I cannot wait any longer.” The brandy swished around the snifter as Lorcan rose from his chair.

Delano stepped back. “Lord Lorcan, are you sure?”

“Perfectly. If not me, then who?” He smiled again. “I shall deal with her myself, and when I am through, she will be less than a spirit’s memory.”

Author Notes CM Raymond

March 27, 2018

Dear Readers,

Still along for the ride? Good. We are too. The further we get into The Forgotten Gods Series, the more we fall in love with Vic, and the closer we get to shit going sideways in a big way.

No spoilers, but it’s coming. You can feel it right?

We can too.

I’m not making any promises, but for some reason four book arcs always feel like the way to roll, so let’s see what the next one brings!

Anticipation, I am convinced, is a good thing in our lives.

Too much of the everyday, and I find myself getting lulled into the status quo. The days can tend to lose their sharpness, their distinction.

Kids help with this, of course. Having a ten year old boy and a (very newly) teenage girl, I never know what to expect when I walk into the room. The boy is particularly precocious these days, and his sense of humor is only matched by his propensity for mischief. It’s all well meaning, that’s what we tell ourselves. And hell, they’re either going to keep us young or send us to an early grave.

Now that I mention it, I shouldn’t need more anticipation in my life. But for some reason, I love it. I’m a sucker for it, an addict maybe.

It’s one of the reasons I love writing so much. Being an indie author guarantees I never REALLY know what is coming next. Stories and series have a way of keeping us on our toes. Lee and I are pretty damn good at planning a tale, but as we weave it, it always has a way of turning left when we want it to go right. Characters develop into the heroes we didn’t quite expect them to be.

Releasing books is an entirely different sort of anticipation. We work and work and work until release day is finally here. And then we slap the metaphorical baby on its metaphorical ass and send it off into the world. Out onto your readers and we wait. We watch. And (hopefully) all that anticipation is paid off in a great launch and feedback from readers.

So far, it hasn’t let us down. Tomorrow, we drop this off for publishing, then we turn to the next one. The anticipation starts again.

Thanks again for joining us. It means everything to me. Now, if you don’t mind, quell my anticipation a bit and take a second to leave a review for the book. It means a lot.

Cheers,

Chris

PS: Don’t miss a release, fan pricing, or some of Lee’s favorite YouTube videos. Join our mailing list here: https://www.subscribepage.com/Age-of-Magic

Author Notes LE Barbant

March 27, 2018

Hello Friends!

My wife just told me that I spend so much time writing author notes, it’s like you all are my pen pals, and every week I write you another letter about what’s going on in my life.

So what’s new with you? My life is going fine.

For example, Baby Barbant is still growing. Weird how that happens. In my last author notes I talked about how he was learning to stand. Well today I walked in on him playing the piano. Seriously. I turned my back for two seconds, and he somehow pulled himself up onto his tippie toes and started banging away on the keys. I’m so freaking proud. How soon is too soon to declare someone a prodigy?

And I’m also proud of our girl Vic. She’s making friends, learning to stand on her own two legs, seeing the world. No musical interests as of yet, but she can swing a sword pretty well.

In my experience, something really interesting happens when you get three books into a series. You all know Vic Stratton by now. You know what she loves and what she hates, and you know where she draws the line. And that’s such a great point to be in when you’re an author, because the baseline is set.

So it’s time to start testing the limits of that baseline, to trouble the status quo.

Is collateral damage acceptable when you’re fighting a war for humanity’s survival?

What happens when you disagree with your closest advisors?

And how can you keep fighting when you know you’re not strong enough to fight on your own?

These questions have been burning at the back of my mind, and I’ve been waiting since the beginning for this book to start asking them.

Actually, in the early planning phases this was meant to be book 2, but we wanted a little more time to build the world. Which is part of the fun of this whole series. I love the fact that Book 1, Chapter 1, starts us off on an earth that’s almost exactly like ours, because by the time we reach Book 10, it will be an entirely new place. And you, Vic, and her allies will have been there through it all.

That reminds me! Vic has new allies now.

In addition to filling our world up with monsters, we wanted to make sure the people in this world got plenty of screen time. It’s our commitment to keep this series character driven. Jules, Deacon, Namiko, and now Maya, Smitty, and Amber are all here, and they won’t be leaving anytime soon. And while Vic may not see them every book, you can rest assured that they are out there fighting the good fight too. Because Vic is more than just a fighter, she’s an inspiration. And when the real war comes, we’ll all be glad to have heroes like them on our side.

Speaking of teammates...I always want to make sure to thank the Forgotten Gods team. Everyone over at LMBPN, my wife and kid for putting up with me, and the FG Facebook group who I find myself talking with almost daily now (hey gang!). Seriously...you all should head over there and chat with us. We’re a friendly group. Well most of us… you know who I’m talking about. Yeah, you!

Anyways, I gotta go before Baby Barbant finds my banjo. See you soon!

For Kronin,

Lee

PS

OK, this one is a little bit of a plug. I’m not much of a salesperson, but if you like our writing, or badass female protags and cool team dynamics, you may want to check out the Rise of Magic. It’s future fantasy, which means it has all the fun elements of fantasy but with a modern tone to it. We’re already 8 books in at this point, which means that there’s plenty for you all to read. Just a thought. Gotta pay for BB’s piano lessons somehow....prodigy!

God in the Darkness

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 4

Prologue

New York was the city that never sleeps. A creed its mayor took to heart.

Kenneth Inglewood put his office phone back in its cradle, leaned back, closed his eyes, and let out a deep sigh. Outside the massive picture window in the west-facing wall of his office, the sun was starting to sink low over the skyline of his city, bathing legions of buildings in warm orange light. A glance at the clock told Inglewood it was nearly four o’clock already. An hour left in the nine-to-five, and he still had a shitload of work left to do.

The mayor rubbed both hands vigorously over his face and straightened up to get back to work. Then, his top aide poked his head in through the door. “Sir? I hate to interrupt, but you’ve got someone waiting.” He lowered his voice. “A drop-in.”

The kid was young, a real go-getter. Inglewood thought he had a lot of potential, but today was not a good day for drop-ins, especially not so late in the afternoon. Fixing his face with a disapproving frown, the mayor shook his head.

“We’re closed for business, Theo. Too much left to do. Not enough time in the day. Have them set up an appointment.”

Normally, Theo was more than happy to close the door and leave his boss to handle the bottomless pit of work that came with governing a major metropolis. This time, however, he didn’t budge from the doorway.

“I think you need to make time for this one, sir.” The aide arched his eyebrows. “It seems… important.” That said, he stepped back, allowing the office door to swing all the way open.

Mayor Inglewood understood as soon as he laid eyes on the tall, slim figure on the threshold, clad, as always, in the long black duster. For once, no dark glasses masked the pale face, but its features held no discernable expression.

Pressing his lips together into a thin line of discontent, Kenneth got to his feet. He waved a hand, simultaneously inviting his guest to sit and shooing away the aide. The door closed behind the visitor, and the two men stood eyeing each other over the desk for a long moment.

Inglewood broke the silence via a long exhalation of breath. “Delano,” he said, his voice tinged with a hint of regret. “Please, have a seat.”

Delano shook his head. “No need. This will only take a minute of your time.” He folded his arms behind his back. “All I need to know is whether or not you have considered our offer.”

The mayor blanched visibly, all the way down to the roots of his subtly graying hair. His mouth worked as he struggled to find the right words. He had known this was coming. There was no excuse for being unprepared. Hadn’t the slimy son of a bitch warned the office he’d be back?

Now, here he stood, and Mayor Inglewood still had no response.

“I—” He cleared his throat. “I have given your terms careful consideration, yes.” Beads of sweat formed on his scalp, threatening to run down his forehead. Inglewood shoved a hand in his pocket, fumbling for a handkerchief. “It is an… interesting offer.”

“Well?” Without moving an inch, Delano somehow managed to convey that time was valuable, and the clock was ticking. His misty gray eyes remained completely impassive, but the power of his presence did not wane. His expectation was clear.

It took all of Inglewood’s courage—and he had the brass balls of a career politician—to say the next three words out loud. “I can’t accept.” A beat of silence, and then: “I’m sorry.”

He thought about adding in all the qualifying factors that had swum around his head at night, keeping him awake. His career. The money. Eight and a half million people. But he sensed it would do no good. He’d seen guys like Delano before. Smooth operators, as cold and ruthless as a winter storm. Eight and a half million people—the very citizens of New York City—would mean nothing to him.

Delano nodded. His gaze held the mayor’s for a moment or two longer, practically scouring the back wall of Inglewood’s skull.

“Very well,” he calmly replied. “My employer will be quite displeased.”

Unfolding his arms, he turned to leave, and as the door opened, Inglewood caught sight of the aide hanging around surreptitiously outside. He swore under his breath. Maybe that kid was too ambitious for his own good.

Caught off guard, the aide gasped and stepped out of Delano’s way. “My apologies, sir.”

Instead of answering, Delano targeted him with his cold, unflinching gaze. The younger man’s body stiffened under the scrutiny. He couldn’t look away.

Then, just as suddenly as he’d appeared, Delano was gone.

Chapter One

Tiny hairs stood at attention on the back of my neck as I stepped softly through the darkened warehouse. The early winter air bit at my bones, but the cold had nothing to do with the chills marching up my spine.

It was the thrill of the hunt.

My senses were on full alert, and I heard the padding of footsteps out in the shadows, where the cracked and broken warehouse windows let in light from the city. They definitely weren’t human. Pausing, I tried to pinpoint the location of my adversary, but they were almost too good at moving in the darkness.

“What are you afraid of?” I shouted. “Come out and play.” Each syllable echoed around the empty space. I hoped my taunting might piss off the Were. They were prone to having a short fuse, after all. I knew this all too well from my time in Silver Banks, the podunk town in the Pacific Northwest.

It had been weeks since I’d faced off against the wolf-god Lupres and his nightmarish beasts, but the lethality of his Weres was still fresh in my mind. It was a good thing, since I was in the process of stalking one of them at the moment.

A snarl split the silence, and I spun behind a concrete pillar for cover.

Be cautious, Victoria. Do not underestimate a foe under any circumstances.

“Come on, Marcus,” I whispered back. “You know I’ve got this.”

Pride cometh before—

“Kicking ass.” I smiled. “Just watch me and take notes in case we ever find a way to get you back into a body.”

The centurion went quiet, clearly won over by my confidence. Or he was just waiting until he could say, “I told you so.”

Even without the sword of the gods, I figured I had this one in the bag. My hand-to-hand combat skills were improving, and the last Weres I’d fought had their fuzzy asses handed to them.

The shapeshifting beast unleashed a howl that echoed through the warehouse. I closed my eyes and exhaled, forcing all the tension out of every square inch of my body. Enough foreplay. It was time for the main event. Stepping out from behind the pillar, I bellowed out a god-like war cry as I sprinted toward the Were’s call.

It might have been a dumbass move, but I was tired of waiting. Patience had never been my greatest virtue. Or honor. Or prudence for that matter. Screw the damn virtues. I’ve got a fight to win.

My eyes trained on a beam of light breaking in through the windows. I imagined that would be the place we would meet. As I passed a pile of old, broken-down pallets, my war cry was cut short by a hairy, muscular shoulder slamming into my torso like a locomotive.

“Shit!” I cursed as we sailed through the dusty air.

I hit the concrete floor with a grunt, and the heavy beast landed on top of me. The tables had turned. I had stepped into its trap. The hunter had become the hunted.

We rolled, and our bodies twisted into a mess of human and animal limbs. Skidding to a stop, I landed a series of close-quarter blows to its thick midsection. My attack drew a growl, and the beast hesitated, allowing me to spin away and get to my feet.

Before I could advance, the Were was up, and we circled each other like a couple of hormone-riddled kids at a junior high dance. The Were’s glistening teeth flashed, and saliva threaded down out of the corner of its jaws. Five razor-sharp nails extended from its fingertips as its hands flexed at the end of each sinewy arm. I looked into that inhuman face and squared my shoulders.

“Let’s do this,” I said through a smile.

The creature responded with something like a deep growling laugh before grabbing an old crate and heaving it in my direction. It was a meteor, threatening to crush me beneath its weight.

But I wasn’t without weapons of my own.

The Gladius Solis roared to life in my hands, and with a downward lunge, the sword pulverized the missile. Dust and woodchips rained down around me.

As my eyes cleared, I saw my enemy lifting an old car engine over its head. Without thinking twice, I threw my sword. It flew like a perfectly balanced spear—its power knocking the engine out of the Were’s hands and toppled the beast on its ass.

“Man, I love this thing,” I shouted.

It is the perfect weapon, my mentor replied.

Reaching out my hand, I called the Gladius Solis back to me. But instead of its normal, quick return, the unthinkable happened.

The Were, with speed that rivaled even the vampires, snapped a giant clawed hand forward, snatching the sword out of the air.

I stared in disbelief—both at the creature’s speed and the fact that it now held my sword.

It looked down at the hilt and smiled a wolfish grin as the glowing blade disappeared.

I reached my hand out and yelled, “Gladius Solis.”

But nothing happened.

The werewolf threw the hilt to the floor and attacked before I could react. It raced toward me, advancing with a massive swing of its arm, projected from as far back as the New Jersey Turnpike, which gave me plenty of time to respond. With a quick step, I dodged, knocked the arm out to my right, and followed through with a quick jab to its fur-covered ribs.

I spun and did a little footwork dance as the Were winced and straightened to its full height.

Its red fur stood up on end, looking like a pissed-off dog. The Were came at me with another right-handed attack, the same as before.

Got you, I thought as I stepped right, just as I had before. But it was smarter than I had given it credit for. Mid-swing, the Were pulled up short, pivoted, and landed a knee to my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs. I doubled over at the waist, hands up to my chest.

A pair of gnarled Were-fists crashed down on the middle of my back, and I thudded to the floor.

The Were straddled my midsection and raised a fistful of razor-like claws, leveed for the kill. Instinctively, I pulled my arms up on either side of my head to ward off its attack.

Instead of slashing at my vulnerable flesh, the brute threw punches at my defenses. Every blow made my whole body shake, and it took everything I had to keep from getting walloped in the face.

The beast’s breathing grew labored, matching my own, and I knew it was now or never. When the next left hand came, I grabbed the fur-covered forearm. Using its momentum against it, I rolled my body, throwing all my weight into the move. Upending my foe, I reversed the advantage.

Now I was on top.

The beast’s eyes grew wide. Instead of landing a finishing blow, I gave it a couple of open-handed slaps across its jowls. “How do you like it?” I grinned.

Anger filled its eyes just before it shot a right hand out of nowhere and caught me on the bridge of my nose. Stars danced in front of my eyes, and I rolled off it, holding my bleeding nose.

“Damn it, that hurt!” I screamed.

“Oh shit,” the beast growled. “Are you okay?”

The Were knelt over me.

The beast’s form twitched and turned. In seconds, the creature morphed from a terrifying werewolf into my newest friend.

I waved off her concern. “Don’t worry about it, Maya. You were doing what I told you to… and better than I expected. You’re not going to learn if you don’t come after me with everything you’ve got. Although I appreciate you not using your claws.”

The veterinarian-turned-werewolf tried to stifle her smile as she bent in half, breathing heavily. “You took it easy on me,” she said. I shrugged, knowing I hadn’t. Not really. “You okay?” She reached a hand down to help me to my feet.

Grabbing her hand, I let her pull me to my feet. She was right, at least in part. Tonight, I wasn’t fighting at my best but mostly because I had underestimated how far Maya had come over the last week of serious training.

“I’m good,” I said, standing up straight at last. “It’s my bad anyway. Should have been paying more attention. I was too busy thinking about teaching you how to fight and not focused enough on the fighting itself. I underestimated you. Plus, that move with the sword really threw me for a second.”

I reached out my hand, and the blade returned to me, this time without interference.

“Yeah,” Maya said. “I guess I was worthy or something.”

“It’s not Thor’s hammer,” I responded. “It’s just a weapon. Anyone can use it.”

“Yeah but the blade died when I tried.”

“Well, maybe it’s not just a weapon. Takes a little knowhow. But still, snagging it out of the air like that? You should try out for the Yankees.”

Maya tried to suppress her proud smile. “I got lucky.”

Shaking my head, I said, “Well, I hope you get lucky early and often. You’ve come a long way in a short amount of time. I think we’ll make a fighter out of you yet.” The nectar’s natural healing properties started to kick in, and I felt the pain in my body fade. “You were pretty damn good back in Washington. We beat Lupres and all his minions together, didn’t we?”

She tossed her head. “Yeah, but I wasn’t really myself then, with Lupres messing around in my head. He basically just told me what to do, and then the animal nature kicked in.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Don’t get me wrong; I’d rather be free than under his thumb any day of the week. In the end, I didn’t really know what I was doing.”

I supposed that made sense. Until I’d started training her, I hadn’t thought too extensively about the way her human and Were forms interacted. I had been too preoccupied with fighting off the rest of the horde and keeping my ass alive to worry about it.

“I figured there was probably some kind of Were instinct that you get once you turn,” I said. “It’s all gotta be worth something. If not, that sounds like a pretty raw deal.”

She shrugged. “It’s not all bad. I’m like, a thousand times stronger than I used to be. I can hear, and see, and smell better. It’s just the part about actually being a Were that doesn’t quite sit well with me. Kind of strange.”

“It kind of is, but in the long run, I think it’s a good sign. It means Lupres didn’t really get inside your head, not permanently at least, like he did with Wade and a lot of the others.” I leaned against a concrete pillar and wiggled my nose, checking to see if it was broken.

Maya laughed. “Wade was a real prick before Lupres got a hold of him, but yeah, being possessed by a god certainly didn’t improve his sparkling personality.”

“Anyway, we’ll get you ready for a real fight soon enough.” I motioned to my sword sitting on top of my neatly folded jacket nearby. “If I was able to learn how to use that thing successfully, you can learn to operate your werewolf body.”

“So, give me the assessment, Sensei.”

“Not bad. Obviously, you got a few solid licks in.” I rubbed my temple ruefully. “But you have to pay more attention to positioning. You were all shitstorm out there. A freaking maelstrom wrapped in chaos with a side of bedlam. A little more control would have gone a long way.”

“Preventative fighting,” Maya said. “Like preventative medicine.”

“Something like that,” I said with a shrug. Maybe it wasn’t the most fitting comparison, but whatever helped her understand.

A shiver ran through her, and she rubbed her hands over her bare arms. “Damn, it’s cold in here. How do you handle this without a fur coat?”

I glanced down at my standard tank top and sweats combo. “I don’t really feel it once we start. Must be all the adrenaline.” I glanced at her naked body. “Doesn’t help that you’re standing there bare-ass naked. Go get your clothes on. We need to transition to part two of your training.”

I believe you are taking quickly to the idea of having a partner, Marcus remarked. Could it be that my spectacular presence has positively influenced you after all?

“Spectacular is a bit much,” I muttered. “Maybe I just like having a friend who isn’t a disembodied voice in my head.”

Technically, I am inside the medallion around your neck. Not in your head.

I made a face. “Don’t you ever get tired of correcting me?”

Honestly? No. It is quite entertaining.

I snorted a laugh. “I’m glad to be of service, Marcus, but try to be gentler when you talk to Maya, all right?”

Certainly.

Maya needed help with more than just her fighting skills. Her first few days in the city had been rough, plagued with either nightmares or insomnia. It seemed crucial to figure out what was going on in her head so that we could make some real progress in her training.

That was where Marcus came into the picture.

“I don’t know what’s going on with me,” Maya said after getting dressed. She ran her fingers through her hair, an expression of genuine bewilderment spreading over her face. “Ever since we left Washington, I’ve felt like something’s missing.”

“You’re homesick?” I asked.

“For Silver Banks?” Maya shook her head. “Not a chance.” She paused to collect her thoughts. “How do I say this? When I was being controlled by Lupres, it was like I could hear him inside my head. Now, it’s like he’s gone, but he’s not. Like there is residue of him splattered around in my mind.”

“Wolf-god splatter? Gross.” I rubbed her arm, giving her the warmest smile I could muster. “Hopefully, part two of your training will start to clean out that mind goo.”

“I can only hope so.”

“Are you sure this will work?” I asked Marcus.

It is certainly worth a try. I am benevolent, so it cannot hurt her.

She looked at me with a puzzled expression. “What?” she asked and then looked down at the medallion hanging around my neck. “Oh, you’re talking with him.”

“Precisely, but now it’s your turn,” I replied. “Marcus thinks he might be able to help with the traces of Lupres you feel in your mind. Walk you through a psychic reframing, or something like that.”

Maya laughed. “Sounds like a bunch of hocus-pocus pseudoscience to me.”

I raised an eyebrow as I glanced at her. “Spoken by the woman who was just kicking my ass in the form of an oversized, bipedal wolf-beast?”

“Touché!” Maya rubbed the back of her neck. “Guess it’s time to get over the need to suspend disbelief. What do I do?”

“She’s all yours,” I told Marcus as I took the necklace off and held it out to her. “Just put this on. He’ll walk you through the process. It’s probably past time for the two of you to get better acquainted anyway.”

Maya did not seem comfortable with the situation, but she relented and settled back into a sort of meditative stance, clearly listening to whatever Marcus had to say. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she sank down, sitting on the cold concrete.

I could tell he was lulling her into a trance, guiding her down into a different level of consciousness. He had never done this with me, but then again, I’d never been brainwashed by a Were god.

She stayed silent and motionless for at least ten minutes. When she finally stirred, it was like a cave dweller walking into bright sunlight. Blinking, she rubbed her eyes and stared at me. Then she stood, took off the pendant, and gave it back.

“How’d it go?” I waited for her to answer before I put the necklace back on, just to encourage her to tell the whole truth.

“I’m not sure.” Maya yawned. “I think I fell asleep. And now I feel like I could eat a horse.”

“Jeez.” I put on the medallion. “What happened in there?”

I helped clear her subconscious of the roots Lupres attempted to put down. She will likely not remember such trips deep into her subconscious, but they are necessary to rid her of the last of Lupres’s influence, as you surmised. Perhaps a benevolent mental presence, or the possibility of one, can help her to regain some stability as well. As for her physical sustenance, I am afraid I must leave that to you.

“I’m on it. Let’s go get something to eat.”

“Yes!” Maya grinned for maybe the first time since she’d gotten to New York. “I’m a hundred percent down with that. Something that’ll make me feel human again.”

Chapter Two

Seated across from me in the booth, Maya picked up her wine glass and held it up to the light. She let a contented sigh slip through her tiny smile. “It feels pretty damned good being out of Silver Banks. The only bar there served wine in plastic cups, poured out of a box. I could get used to being back in a city with a bit of class.”

I laughed. “Remind me not to take you to any of my usual haunts. Some of those joints might make you feel like you’re right back in the heart of rural Washington.”

I sipped on my own drink, a gin and tonic. Usually my summer drink, its cooling effects were exactly what I needed after our heated work out. The heavy pour offered just the right kick of alcohol. Looking up at Maya, I said, “I guess if things ever get normal here, you could find work pretty easily in New York. People in the city love their animals. There are little cosmopolitan ankle biters everywhere.”

Tilting her head, Maya gave me a little nod. “Yeah, I guess I could. I was always a little divided about my time in Silver Banks. It was pretty backward in a lot of ways, but I couldn’t help but love the work there. I had bounced around a good bit before landing the job, and I needed to pay off my school debt, so it made sense for a while. But the work there…” She trailed off, her eyes looking vacantly across the room.

“The work there was what?” I asked.

Maya came back to me. “I don’t know. I guess the work there was just very authentic. Something about people in the country and their relationship with their animals, it just seemed so much more… familial or something.” She laughed and waved her hand at me. “It sounds so silly.”

“I don’t know,” I responded. “Only as silly as we let it be. You think that Buck, the mixed breed adopted by some country folk, is more valuable than Fifi, the chihuahua in a handbag on Fifth Avenue?”

Maya tapped the rim of her wine glass. “I’m going to need another one of these if we continue down this line of questioning.” She flashed me a smile to let me know that our back and forth was still on friendly ground. “I don’t think that an animal being treated as an accessory really respects its inherent dignity. All life has dignity.”

“That’s why you’re vegan.”

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“A vegan werewolf,” I said, unable to resist.

She narrowed her eyes at me playfully. “Keep teasing me, and I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down.”

I laughed. “And then what? You’ll eat all my vegetables?”

Maya grinned as she ran her finger down the right side of the menu. “Speaking of which, it looks like I’ve died and gone to vegan heaven.”

The waiter came and took our orders, eyeing Maya the entire time. She ordered something that sounded like a fancy salad in a wrap, and I ordered a burger, medium-rare.

As the waiter left, I said, “Looks like our waiter wishes you were on the menu.”

Maya rolled her eyes. “Vic, he looks like an out-of-work actor. Also, he’s a dude, and they’re not really my thing.”

I smiled. “So, you’re saying he’s barking up the wrong tree?”

She groaned. “Seriously? I’m not a dog.”

I shrugged. “Even if you were, I’d still respect your inherent dignity.”

“I know you’re joking, but I really believe in the dignity of all life. It’s why I’m vegan, and why I think it’s a cosmic fucking joke that I get turned into a werewolf by the gods.”

I grinned. “Maybe it’s fitting. You’re like, closer to nature now.”

She frowned. “I don’t know if I’m going to be able to do it.”

I cocked my head to the side. “And now is the moment when you tell me what exactly ‘it’ is.”

“You know.” She paused and glanced around the room, making sure no one was listening in to our conversation. “Kill someone. Maul them with my…” She glanced at her hands, which only an hour earlier were razor-sharp claws.

Maya was a saint, and I was lucky to have her as a friend. I could only pray that her moral sentiments wouldn’t cause too much hesitation when I needed her.

“When the time comes,” I said, “you need to know that the dignity of life isn’t quite that black and white. When you’re up against someone intent on killing hundreds or thousands of people, stopping them becomes a pretty clear-cut decision. Unfortunately, I’ve already faced the decision, and when the time came, it was easier to make than I expected.”

We sat in silence for a while, Maya obviously mulling over my words. My mind floated back over the previous months. The battles against the gods hadn’t quite turned me into the ultimate killing machine, but it had taught me a lot, as had Marcus. It struck me that having Marcus’s no-nonsense military attitude and Maya’s heightened sense of compassion might help me to strike the proper balance going forward.

Finally, our meals came. “I still have a lot of questions,” Maya said as I took my first bite of the pink, juicy burger. “But I’m not opposed to learning as we go. What’s the next step?”

I laughed wryly. “That is constantly the million-dollar question. So far, the incidents—New York, California, and Washington—were isolated. But the vamps knew about the deal with Silas Monk. So information is still traveling from coast to coast. That makes it seem like there’s something significant going on behind the scenes. We have to find out what that is. How much do these gods know about each other? Are they working together or against each other? What’s their endgame?”

“Seems daunting,” Maya remarked. I could see she’d been somewhat cowed by the onslaught of information, and I made a mental note to dial it back a little bit, at least until she adjusted.

“Yeah, it is,” I said. “Even more so now that I’m starting to see a clearer picture of what we’re up against. Lupres was the first god I encountered with a clear strategy for enslaving humanity. Before him, it was all personal vendettas or somewhat isolated power plays. Then Lupres busted out his plan to turn entire communities into his minions.”

I find this to be an astute observation, Victoria.

I almost jumped at Marcus’s voice. “We keep waiting for the next sign of trouble, the next emergence of some badass god, but wars aren’t won reactively. It’s time that we start gathering intel, and maybe, if we’re lucky, make some new friends along the way.”

Maya nodded. “Perfect. I’m ready to get to work.”

“I’m impressed,” I said. “You’re taking to this a lot better than I would’ve expected.”

She shrugged. “I’m a professional, Vic. Every situation gets more manageable once you break it down into individual tasks. It’s how I got through a billion years of vet school. And it’s how we’ll get through this.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile. “Then finish your rabbit food, and let’s get going. I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

“Another friend of yours?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

Chapter Three

The shortcut I took led through a dark alley. Given my recent experiences with alleys, maybe I should have taken a less vulnerable route, but I’d walked through there so many times I let my guard down in the face of familiarity. Maya, whom I had asked to trust me, followed timidly behind me down the narrow passage. She didn’t say anything, but her nervous energy was palpable.

The yellowing streetlamp marked the end of the alley, and the vamps stepped out of the shadows, right into that dim pool of light. They formed a semicircle around the only way forward. I recognized them for what they were immediately, but as I looked more closely, my brow furrowed. The vamps I was used to were mostly wiry, deathly pale creatures just starting to show the effects of whatever horrible concoction they’d taken in order to turn themselves.

These were entirely different. They loomed over us, their silvery irises eerily luminous in the dark. The weak lamplight played off contours of muscle in necks and shoulders and arms, all poised and ready to strike. The vamps’ faces were bloodless and cruel. Several of them bared their teeth already.

“Damn it to hell,” I muttered. “Haven’t I killed you all yet?” Out of the corner of my eye, Maya seemed to freeze in fear. Her hands were balled into tight fists at her side.

One of the vamps stepped forward. The bald skin of his head reflected a waxy sheen. “We are resilient. Favored by the gods.”

“You guys are roaches,” I said. “And I’ll keep stomping on you until you stay down.”

He laughed. His lip curled. The gums in his mouth were disturbingly grey. “You’ll never be able to stop us.”

Who was this guy? He didn’t look or speak like a mobster; at least, not any of the ones I knew. Was Lorcan finally branching out in search of better help? “Watch me,” I said. The Gladius Solis outshined the streetlamp, washing us all in its golden light.

The vamp’s thin smile widened. “So naïve,” he said. “You’ll—”

He didn’t have time to say anything else before I rushed him and ran the blade clean through his torso. Its blazing heat burned the bony fingers that clutched reflexively at the edge before falling limply away. As he disintegrated around the weapon, his cohorts swarmed me.

My sword cleaved mercilessly through anything in its path. The vampires were strong, fast, and fierce, but their attacks were reckless. The air grew hazy with vamp dust as I cut them to pieces. Behind me, a tearing sound gave way to a piercing howl, and some of the vamps dogpiling on me diverted to face Maya’s new Were threat.

It didn’t afford me much breathing room. Every time I got rid of a vampire, another one took its place. They started to hang on my limbs, jump on my back, and try to weigh me down, all the while trying to bury their nasty fangs into my exposed flesh. I lashed out with all my strength.

I managed to shake some of them off, but they never gave me a moment to regroup. These tenacious dickheads were strong, and they were heavy. The muscles in my arms and legs strained to free themselves. The movements of the sword slowed down.

I couldn’t see Maya at all. My vision was blocked by the feral horde of vampires. The sheer number of them baffled me. “Marcus, what the hell is going on here? Are they multiplying as we speak?” I hauled a smaller vamp over my shoulder and tossed his body into the throng. “This shit is ridiculous!”

Lorcan’s strength must be growing. Marcus’s voice was grim. Hold fast, Victoria. He cannot have an inexhaustible supply.

I clenched my teeth. It sure felt inexhaustible. The flow of enemies didn’t slow or stop. Sweat ran down into my eyes. “Well, something’s gotta give.”

I turned and skewered a couple of vamps, slicing hard to the side as they collapsed into dust. They really were like roaches—a few apparently translated into hundreds unseen. Craning my head back, I struggled to catch a glimpse of Maya through the chaos. All I saw was a flash of red fur and the blurred strike of claws. More dust billowed around us, thickening the pool of yellow light.

The longer we went on like that, the slower time seemed to go. I couldn’t tell how many vamps I struck down, and yet they kept coming in droves. I thought dimly that Lorcan must have figured out a way to mass produce them, that he was rolling them out, hot off the presses, as quickly as I dispatched them. Nectar notwithstanding, I was starting to get tired. My reflexes slowed down. The adrenaline drained gradually from my bloodstream.

But the vamps were relentless. I’d never seen anything like it.

Maya’s yelped in pain. I tried to pinpoint her location, but the little courtyard at the end of the alley was packed full by now, and there were just too many bodies between her and me. Long, sharp fingers tried to tear at my skin and hair. I felt them dragging me down to my knees. “Get away from me,” I growled, fighting to stay on my feet. “You ugly, skeevy bastards!”

“Stop!” The word crashed into my eardrums like a physical weight, resonating through the alley. The frenzy froze instantly. Vamps dropped off me to stand at attention, their faces morphing from twisted masks of hatred to flat inscrutability. I spun around, searching for the source of the voice. Soon enough, it made itself clear.

The man was still wearing his black duster, and he still had eyes that could cut me in half. That cold gaze latched onto my face as he stepped out from behind the ranks of lesser vamps and stood facing me, hands clasped behind his back. His name sprung to my mind without hesitation.

Delano. Lorcan’s righthand man.

“We meet again, blade-wielder,” he declared. “I admit, I am impressed. We had thought your soul would have long since departed by now.” His glance shifted to Maya, and a tiny smirk touched his lips. “And I see you’ve brought one of Lupres’s curs along. It’s almost a shame that you killed the brute.” A brief chuckle wormed its way out of his throat. “Who am I kidding? Your work means one less in our way.”

The slimy pleasantries were lost on me. I gripped the hilt of the Gladius Solis in both hands, holding it straight up in front of me. The blade burned bright as ever, nearly drowning the demigod’s pallid face in its glare. “Delano. You’re just in time to join your creepy friends on the ash heap.”

“Is that so? You hardly seemed so confident a second ago. I suspect you would have been crushed had I not appeared to call off the dogs, as it were.” He smoothed his greasy hair back. “There is no need for such posturing, at any rate. Had I come to kill you, you would already be dead.” He slipped a hand inside his coat. “I am simply delivering a message. Lord Lorcan requests a parley.”

I frowned. The offer of a peaceful chat felt weird coming from someone who filled me with such instinctual disgust. Like being asked to tea and crumpets by a human-shaped slug.

“Tell your boss that I doth refuse his parley,” I said with a shitty English accent. “But if he’s ready to become the dead god of death, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Perhaps your Roman friend can persuade you to reconsider before my Lord’s request becomes a demand. Let’s just say that bad things happen to humans who forget their place.”

I’d heard enough bullshit threats to know a real one. Whatever Delano was up to, he wasn’t bluffing about his boss.

The Apprenti produced an iridescent peacock feather from inside his coat and held it out between two fingers like a long cigarette.

I glanced sideways at the feather and the man holding it. “I’m more of a chocolates gal myself.”

Delano sneered. “This feather is a binding symbol of Lord Lorcan’s word. No harm will befall you during the parley.”

The legends say that it was a similar gesture that convinced Kronin to meet with Lorcan before they worked together to end the war amongst the gods, Marcus chimed in. Parley has become more than custom. It is sacred.

“You’re sure?” I spoke carefully without moving my mouth very much at all.

It has been the way of things for thousands of years. I do not believe that even Lorcan would forego the rite, although I myself have a rule about never trusting a backstabber.

Inhaling deeply, I extended my hand to take the feather.

“A wise move.” The demigod nodded sagely. “Two days from now, on the top floor of the One World Trade Center, Lord Lorcan will be waiting.” The sallow face hardened for a second. “I would advise you to come alone.” He looked pointedly at the spot where the gold medallion rested on my skin.

I bit my tongue. Apparently finished with his business, the man in the black duster turned heel and strode away. His legions of vampire minions trailed behind him. As soon as I judged him to be safely out of earshot, I let out my breath and grunted. “I fucking hate that guy.”

The feeling is mutual. And yet, a meeting could be worth our time.

“Maybe.” I chewed on the idea for a minute, severely displeased. This parley shit was better than I’d expected out of the vampire faction, but I hated the feeling of being backed into a corner. Sending a tsunami of his minions ahead of him was the most bullshit powerplay I’d ever seen.

“You know that guy?” Maya asked, jerking me out of my fugue. She peered over my shoulder in the direction the Apprenti had walked off with his vamps. “He looks like he’s a ton of fun at parties.”

“He was the big boss behind the slaughterhouse I told you about before,” I said. “Not the guy I killed. Higher pay grade.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “That’s so corporate.”

“Like, middle management.” I rolled my eyes. “And they’re all a bunch of smug-ass dickheads.” Checking around to make sure no one else was lying in wait for us, I motioned for Maya to follow. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. Suddenly, I don’t feel quite at home anymore.”

I handed Maya my coat, since her transformation tore her ensemble to pieces. An occupational hazard when you’re a werewolf. Despite the fact that I was sore and tired as hell, I decided to make one last stop before home.

A move like Delano just pulled didn’t happen without planning—and that planning tended to make noise. If I was even going to consider meeting with the big man himself, I needed to find out everything I could about what the vampires had been up to in my absence.

And there was only one person I trusted to give me the truth.

We picked up our pace, ignoring the night life around us, until I saw the exact shitty hole in the wall I was looking for. The windows were all boarded up, and if it wasn’t for the blinking neon light, it would be easy to assume the place was abandoned. But a bar like this catered to a specific clientele.

“Really?” Maya’s voice was rife with undisguised skepticism. “I’m not sure when my last tetanus shot was.”

I shrugged. “What’s that expression? When you gotta break some eggs, go to where the shit heads are.”

“That’s not an expression,” she said. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

I shrugged. “Don’t overthink it.”

She gave me a strained grin as she followed me inside.

The boozy, smoky stench of the bar hit me like a brick wall. I hadn’t been in one of these dives since before I left for Washington. I couldn’t believe I basically lived in places like this for so long.

I waded through the haze, Maya in tow, apologizing to my lungs. Indoor smoking laws apparently didn’t hold jurisdiction here.

The place was filled with a rough-looking crowd, the kind that didn’t take too kindly to nosy outsiders asking questions. But with the Gladius Solis by my side and a grade-A badass werewolf at my back, I figured we could handle whatever trouble made the mistake of messing with us.

Not that I expected that trouble to come from my dear friend, Frank.

Frank’s distinctive bulk was wedged into a booth in the back behind the bar. He saw me coming and visibly sagged.

“Jeezum Crow, it’s you again.” Holding up his huge hands, he reclined in the booth, panning rheumy eyes around the dark room. They settled on Maya for a second before flicking back to me. “And you’ve brought backup.”

I nodded toward Maya. “She’s my bodyguard. And she’ll make you think I’ve been playing good cop this whole time. Now, are we going to have a problem tonight?”

He grabbed a shot and downed it before waving to the bartender to get him another. “Not from me you’re not. I might be a little heavy around the waist, but I ain’t thick. I learned my lesson, and I’m picking my battles now, all right? I’ll tell you whatever you want, as long as you leave me and my balls alone.”

“No loyalty among thieves, huh, Frankie?” I leaned on the edge of his table, folding my arms. “Your crew’s not here either?”

He grunted. “Most of them are still in the hospital after running into you. I haven’t heard from the rest in weeks, which in this business means one of two things. They’re dead, or worse.”

“What do you mean worse?” Maya asked, a look of concern on her face.

The bartender returned with two shots of something dark and cheap. Frank drank them both without taking a breath. Luckily, his fear of me kept him sober.

“If you’re working with this one,” he said, pointing at me, “then you know that there’s some freaky shit going down. And it’s not just the bloodsuckers either. There’s worse than them prowling around.”

“I’m familiar,” Maya said without a hint of irony.

“This town.” He sighed into his empty glass. “It used to make sense. Now it’s like Disneyland for the devil. And that’s no place for me.”

“You could always leave,” I said. It was weird seeing Frank so scared of something other than me.

“Go where? Do what? This place is my home. I was born and raised here, and if the rumors I’m hearing are true, I’ll probably die here as well.”

I smiled toward Maya. This was why I kept coming back to Frank.

“Better fill me in on those rumors, Frank. I know you and I haven’t always had the same goals, but you’ve got to believe me. I’m only here to help this city. Help the world. Whatever else I am, I’m on the side of humanity, which includes you.”

He took a long hard look at me, as if seeing me for the first time. A flicker of hope returned to his eyes.

“I believe you mean that.” He looked down at another shot that showed up, then pushed it away. “Most of this is smoke, okay? I’ve got nothing hard and fast for you. Just whispers here or there and my own hunches, which are far from foolproof.”

I smiled at him encouragingly. “I’ll take anything you’ve got, pal.”

“Well, the human side of my, uh, particular business has basically closed up shop. No one’s got the guts to go up against the vamps. And yet, if you’re the kind to read the news, New York’s in the midst of a crime wave. Bank robberies, shootouts, arson? You name it, and it’s happening. But not by anyone on team mankind.”

“Then who’s behind it?”

He couldn’t help himself. Without thinking, he threw down the remaining shot, and his voice jumped an octave.

“Who else? It’s the freaks. But like I said, not just the fang bangers. There’s all sorts of creeps running around. I don’t know much, but I know the vamps all started out as flesh and blood. But the things I’m hearing about? No one knows where they came from, but it’s like they’ve been here the whole time, ya know? Like something from my nightmares. And they’re all going nuts.”

“But why, Frank?”

“I look like a Magic Eight Ball to you?” Frank threw up his hands. “Who the hell knows? But I’d wager my left nut that it’s nothing good. Like some sort of sign, you know? End of days shit.” The mobster shook his jowly head. “I don’t know what you got your nose into, kid, but be careful about it.”

I pursed my lips. “What do you mean by that?”

Frank looked at me flatly. “I mean see that you don’t get your schnoz bit off, you punk. I ain’t no plastic surgeon.”

Chapter Four

“End of days shit sounds about right,” Maya said as she paced back and forth in my apartment, full of energy despite all that we had been through.

I filled Maya in on my history with Frank as I watched her move around the loft. She pulled her hair down as she listened, running her hands through a mass of unruly red curls.

“I kind of feel bad for the guy,” she commented, a couple bobby pins secured in her teeth. “I mean, I know he’s a criminal and all, but still.”

I snorted. “He could be worse. But without him, there’s a lot of shit I wouldn’t know.”

Maya laughed, and she stretched, stifling a yawn. “You know the worst thing about being a Were? The whole transforming thing is frickin’ exhausting. I could sleep for a day. And I think I need a chiropractor.”

“Look at it this way. If your human body breaks, you’ve got a bigger, stronger one to use instead.”

“Right, because everyone wants to see a Were at their vet’s office. I’m sure that’ll go over like a lead zeppelin.”

I grinned. “You never know. It might increase your credibility. Especially if your Were form grants you the ability to, like, talk to dogs.”

She gave me a look. “I’m not Dr. Doolittle. You make it sound like I’m losing my mind.”

“You and the rest of this city.”

“Yeah,” she said, finally perching on the edge of my mattress. “What the hell did Frank mean about other creatures? Does he mean the harpies?”

It is possible. But there is a great probability that he was referring to other members of the Forgotten. Remnants from the old wars who have been following Kronin’s dictates for millennia.

“Like your ogre friend.”

Precisely. They are rare, but I would imagine that a city the size of this one would attract nonhumans who wanted to remain hidden in plain sight. If they didn’t cause any trouble to humans, there would have been no need for me to investigate them. But now that there’s no Kronin, there’s very little keeping them in check.

“Then it’s playtime. They’re probably rejoicing the gods’ return.”

Maya waited patiently, familiar with my seemingly one-sided conversations with Marcus. I relayed his ideas to her.

“Great,” she said. “So not only do we have a god of darkness and his Apprenti—not to mention their army of vampires—but we also have a host of who knows what else roaming the streets? You weren’t kidding when you said you could use a partner. Let’s just hope that I don’t start letting loose as well.”

I nodded. “I have to say, it was nice having you by my side tonight. And I’m sure you’ll be able to keep your… problems under control. Speaking of which.” I took Marcus from around my neck and handed it to her. “Why don’t you spend some time training with the old guy before you hit the sack?”

She smiled as she slipped the amulet around her neck. “He says he prefers the term ancient. It is more accurate and less demeaning.”

I rolled my eyes. “Tell him just to be grateful I don’t refer to him as saggy ass.”

My reservations about having a partner hadn’t completely gone away, but waking up to the sound of Maya’s snoring made me happier than I’d been in a while. It was surprisingly nice to have her around, even if it made my living quarters a little cramped.

Marcus’s medallion hung from her hand as it dangled off the mattress we bought for her. I crept over and grabbed him without waking her, and then I began my morning training.

“Everything go all right last night?” I asked between lunges.

Her mind is remarkable. Brilliant but without the kind of arrogance that so often accompanies such intelligence. But the tensions inside her stem from her pacifism colliding with her new lethal nature. Despite his death, there is more of Lupres left in there than I originally believed. It is good that I spend time with her. Our link will prove invaluable.

“Do your thing,” I said with a smile. “I don’t mind taking a break from you now and again. That is, if you won’t miss me too much.”

Somehow, I will find a way to manage.

Maya woke up eventually, and we took the day at a leisurely pace. Until the coffee ran out. That was unbearable, so we decided to go on a quick supply run.

New York buzzed as we made our way out onto the street.

We turned the corner, and the neon sign of my local bodega came into view. As we crossed the street, the bright unmistakable light of a muzzle flash backlit the front display.

“What the hell?” I muttered. Hand poised to draw my sword, I beelined for the door of the shop. Before I reached it, a rowdy group busted it open from the inside, nearly breaking it off its hinges and knocking me back on my ass.

Maya looked up some yards behind me. “What’s going on?”

I wasn’t sure yet myself. The guys who spilled out into the street were a strange-looking crew, decked out in baggy clothing, wide boots, and thick knit caps. Like some kind of nineties street gang. They laughed uproariously out of mouths filled with horsey teeth at the end of long, flat faces. One of them had his coat open, exposing a chest full of thick, dark hair.

Despite all of that, the first thing I noticed was that they had guns. Not only that, but they were firing, seemingly in random directions. The rattle of a semiautomatic shattered a window across the street just before they bolted down an alley.

I told Maya to check on the people inside the store and make sure there were no injuries. Without looking back, I took off after the bastards.

I had no idea what these freaky fucks were, but they didn’t seem human, which meant they fell under my jurisdiction. Even if they weren’t some kind of supernatural creature, I wouldn’t let these shits shoot up my city.

They moved fast, but they all ran with the same kind of odd gait, like they were leaning forward at an unnatural angle. And they were laughing the whole way.

I kicked myself into high gear and followed them around a corner. One saw me coming and turned to fire in my direction. I spun behind a dumpster and let the barrage pass harmlessly over me. I heard the sound of him changing clips, and I bolted.

His eyes grew wide at my approach, and before he could raise his gun to fire again, I was on him. My tackle must have felt like getting hit by a bus, but the jerk kept his cool. He was thin, but his legs packed a powerful kick, and I took a couple good hits to the stomach as he scrambled out from under me.

Not wanting him to get away, I grabbed his boot like a toddler and held on. His foot slipped out, which was when I noticed that it wasn’t a foot at all.

It was a hoof.

Ah, so they are not human after all, Marcus said, almost with a laugh.

“No shit,” I said as I climbed to my feet, staring at the strange creature in front of me. He was much wilder looking close up. His eyes were elongated and almost red in color, the pupils standing vertical. The scraggly beard sheathing his face was tangled, coarse. Pulled back, his lips revealed surprisingly vicious teeth that seemed to belong to a more predatory beast.

It smiled at me hungrily.

“See something you like, woman?”

“I see something I’d like to pummel,” I said, drawing the sword from my belt.

He is a satyr, Marcus said. The servants of a lesser god who did not survive Kronin’s rise. Mean creatures, but not much of a threat. I assumed they all had died out years ago, but apparently, their race lives on.

“Ah, so you’re the one I’ve heard so much about.” He looked at the sword but seemed unperturbed. “You should take my advice and leave town while you still have the chance.” As he spoke, he pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Steam from his breath mingled with smoke when he talked. “Or better yet, why don’t you come with me? We could have some fun while there’s still time.”

The way he said it made me believe spending time with him would be no fun at all.

“What do you mean ‘while there’s still time’?”

His laugh was short and harsh. “You’ve got the sword, so you must know what’s happening. The gods have returned. And they will tear this world to pieces trying to kill each other. Your people don’t stand a chance. Especially since Lorcan has claimed this city as his own.”

I opened my mouth to ask for more information, but the sound of footsteps drew my attention. I looked just in time to see the satyr’s friends pulling out their weapons. One of them fired, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The Gladius Solis leapt in my hand. Whether or not it was my nectar-fueled reflexes or some power inherent in the sword, I wasn’t sure. But the blade flashed and the bullet that had been aimed at my chest dissolved in midair.

The satyr and I were equally shocked that I had just moved fast enough to block a bullet. But before either of us had time to figure it out, the gang decided to try it again. Rather than pressing my luck, I dove for cover as a rain of bullets blew through the alley.

“Did you see that?” I yelled, pinned down behind the dumpster again.

Most impressive. I told you, guns are no match for a true warrior wielding the blade of Kronin.

“You make it seem like it’s a scissors-beats-rock kind of thing, but I just blocked a bullet in midair. That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

Yes, well. Until you perfect this particular skill, I would recommend not getting shot at.

“Thanks for the advice.”

The satyrs continued their barrage, and I waited for my moment. But it never came. Lights flashed, and a police siren echoed in the narrow space. Peeking around the edge of my metal barricade, I saw the vehicle. It wasn’t a cruiser, but a black Suburban.

And I knew immediately who it belonged to.

The doors flung open, ejecting Deacon St. Clare and his frigid blonde partner onto the pavement.

“Freeze!” Deacon bellowed. “FBI!” His customary jacket was nowhere to be seen, affording me a great view of the way his biceps stretched the sleeves of his shirt.

The goat brigade did not obey his command. On the contrary, they turned their guns and began firing in rapid succession. Deacon and his partner dove for cover, and the sound of screaming metal and shattering glass could be heard above the gunfire.

But if they were shooting at the feds, they weren’t shooting at me.

I prepared the Gladius Solis and launched it into their midst, hoping that Deacon would be too busy ducking to see. While not very strong, the satyrs had a fair sense of approaching danger. They scattered as the sword crashed into the pavement, sending pieces of asphalt into the air.

I ran out from my hiding spot and called the sword back to me, ready to take advantage of the chaos to run them through. But apparently, they had had enough of a fight already. They ran, their powerful legs vaulting them onto and then over the Suburban blocking their escape.

Deacon and his partner looked up from their cover and watched them flee wide-eyed before standing and turning to me.

He crossed his arms, and his dark eyes bored into me while his partner called in the attack on their radio. It wouldn’t do them any good. The friendly neighborhood satyr-men were long gone.

“You know what I wished for this morning?” he asked, sliding his gun back into its holster.

“I bet you wished, ‘Man, I hope I get to see Vic today,’” I teased. “And if so, congratulations! You have two wishes left.”

He laughed in spite of himself. “We had calls about young punks shooting out stores all up and down this area. Thought it was some new gang trying to make a name for themselves. But you’re here. Which tells me that I probably don’t know what the hell is really happening.”

“Well,” I said with a shrug, “that’s not the worst detective work I’ve ever seen.”

He stared at me for a second, like he was deliberating pulling that gun out again. I tensed, unsure of how he’d respond to me showing up at yet another crime scene.

He then leaned close to his partner and whispered something. Her face darkened, and I could feel the anger flowing in my direction. But she nodded and returned to her radio.

Deacon moved in my direction.

“Listen,” he said. “As much as I enjoy seeing you as often as I do, I’m getting a bit sick of our little game. We need to talk. Now.”

There was warmth in his eyes, but his voice held no room for debate. Still, I considered my options. Lorcan was making moves, and the Forgotten were acting up without regard for consequences. New York was in trouble, and I could use all the allies I could get. Maybe it was time to come clean.

“You’re right,” I said.

He smiled, relieved by my response. “Well, there’s no need to do it in the middle of this alley. I’m starving, and I can convince Steph to cover the paperwork. She loves that shit. And as acknowledgement of your cooperation, I’ll pick up the tab.”

Chapter Five

I dropped Marcus off with Maya so he could fill her in on the satyrs. Whatever was about to happen with Deacon, I didn’t want him distracting me. I valued Marcus’s advice, but the decision to talk with Deacon was mine alone to make.

I trust you, he said before I took off the amulet. And for what it is worth, Deacon seems like an honorable fellow.

We took an Uber across town, then sat sequestered in a back booth at a tiny diner I’d never seen before. We both pretended to look at the menu, acting as though we didn’t feel the awkward silence like a weight hanging between us. Finally, I spoke up.

“It looks like your animal injuries aren’t holding you back much,” I said, referring to his wounds I tended to back in Silver Banks.

He smiled. “Had a pretty great medic… even if she left me tied to the bed.”

“It’s a radical new treatment therapy. All the best hospitals are doing it. Better than leaving you to bleed out in the mud.”

“You’re just a regular Good Samaritan, aren’t you?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I do what I can to help my friends.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

“We could be,” I said, then hastily took a drink of water.

“Look,” he said through a smile. “Just don’t treat me like an idiot. There’s something strange happening to our country, and you’re at the heart of it. So, what can you tell me?”

“You’re not an idiot, Deacon. It’s just that trust isn’t easy for me to come by.”

He nodded. “I know the feeling. But I also know that without help, sooner or later, whatever you’re after will get you. And I’ll be the one that stumbles across your body in a gutter. Or full of bullet holes behind a dumpster.”

I smiled. “I had it under control before you showed up. And it was me that saved you in Mormouth and drove off those bastards today. I can take care of myself.”

He shrugged. “Fine, you’re no damsel. But I’m damn sure you’re no saint either. So, what are you?”

There it was. The question I had been trying to answer ever since the gods returned. And I knew that whatever answer I gave him, it would change everything for us going forward.

“I’m a shield, Deacon. Trying to protect you and this city and the whole damned world from something that’s about to rain down upon it. And I’m the only one who can.” I stared at him, but his eyes revealed nothing. So I decided to give him the truth and just hope he wouldn’t laugh me out of the restaurant or arrest me. Or worse, send me to an asylum.

“You see,” I continued. “There’s this group—they’re evil, and powerful, and kind of hard to explain.” I stammered for a second, not sure how to really say it. “You see, it’s… it’s complicated. They’re, uh, they’re—”

“The Forgotten,” he said. I nearly fell out of my seat.

“How did you—”

“Like I said, I’m no idiot.” He leaned back, obviously enjoying my discomfort. But then my shock gave way to anger. I looked around the room, suddenly paranoid that this was all a trap.

“Easy, easy,” he said, placing his hand on mine. I didn’t pull it back. “Look, I’m sorry, but I’m an FBI agent, remember? I’ve been trying to put together the pieces ever since that night you hung up on me. But you were very little help on that front, so I turned to other sources. I didn’t know if I could trust them, trust what they were saying. It was all so outlandish, but so was everything else. And clearly, the name they gave me means something to you. The Forgotten.”

I nodded, still reeling from this revelation.

“And does that mean the rest of it is true too?” he asked. “These things we’ve been tracking. Those things we fought today. They really are the work of the gods?”

His face was transparent. Confusion, doubt, fear. But it was earnest as well. Whatever else Deacon was, he was trying to find the truth.

So, I would help him.

“It’s all true,” I said. “The gods are real. And they’re assholes.”

I told him what I knew about the Forgotten. Our food came and went untouched, and what seemed like hours passed by as Deacon’s confusion was replaced by grim acceptance.

“Wait,” he said as I reached the part about the satyrs. “I still don’t understand your place in all of this. Are you one of them?”

His question cracked me up. “I’m still human,” I said. “Just with a little something extra in my blood. And I’ve got a really kickass sword too.”

He leaned back in a daze. “That’s what he told me. Told me to find the girl with the sword to get the answers I needed.”

Now it was my turn to ask questions. “Who the hell is this guy? Your source? Because the gods and their minions are called the Forgotten for a reason. No one is supposed to know about them—except for me and them.”

“I know,” he said, nodding. “That thought crossed my mind as well. But I don’t think he’s one of them. He first contacted me the night you and I met. Just a note—a warning. That the world had changed. That you had changed it. I ignored it. Figured it was some crackpot’s idea of a joke. But things kept happening. Then over the next several weeks, his words would show up, offering tantalizing hints.

“He knew things that made sense of what was happening. Knew that I would never find Rocco Durant’s body. Knew that I hadn’t been mauled by a bear. Knew about you. Last night, I got another letter. It simply told me that the time had come to meet him in person. And to bring the girl with the sword. I just need to message a number.”

I let out my breath. Despite Marcus’s guidance, so much of my mission was shrouded in darkness, stumbling from one crisis to the next. If this mysterious person had any info at all, knew anything that could help me, I couldn’t pass it up.

Even if it might be a trap.

I pushed my plate out of the way. Following my cue, Deacon took some cash from his wallet and dropped it on the table.

I looked him dead in the eyes. “Then what are we waiting for?”

Chapter Six

We took a cab across town, and he spent most of the ride on his phone. I stared out the window, letting my thoughts wander in the silent lull of the backseat as Brooklyn fell behind us. I had hardly touched my late lunch, but the only thing I was hungry for was answers. We crossed the river into Manhattan. According to Deacon’s instructions, we were heading for Central Park, and I wondered what a very public space like that could mean. Who were we meeting? Another agent? A government official? Something far worse?

“Here’s fine. Thanks.” Deacon’s deep voice pulled me back into the world, and I automatically got out of the car. He joined me at the curb, and we spent a few seconds just looking at the familiar entrance to Central Park. With winter rapidly approaching, most of the foliage was off the trees, leaving the place more austere than usual. It wouldn’t be pretty again until the first snow fell.

That didn’t mean it was any less crowded than usual. The numbers weren’t nearly as high as in the spring and summer, but the sun was out, which meant the tourists were too. Deacon and I walked casually along a footpath, not really talking, pretending to enjoy the scenery. I fell slightly behind him so he could lead me without being too obvious. Among dozens of happy, chatting couples, we probably didn’t look too out of place.

Definitely not on our way to a clandestine meeting with a guy whose name I didn’t know.

Deacon made the turn so fast I almost didn’t realize he was walking in a different direction. He had to reach back and grab me to make sure I followed him across the grass. I frowned. Where the hell were we going?

It was too late to have second thoughts, and besides, I needed all the information I could get. Whatever situation I’d gotten myself into, I’d just have to brave it. I gritted my teeth as we pushed through some close branches. On the other side, a single park bench with a single occupant sat in the shade.

“Oh,” I said out loud but under my breath. Deacon glanced at me, then stepped forward, clearing his throat.

The man on the bench turned his head approximately one degree. He motioned us closer with one crooked finger. With every step, he looked more and more like a statue. The trench coat obscured his suited frame, and the trilby was pulled down over his eyes.

He held a hand-rolled cigarette deliberately between thumb and forefinger, blowing lazy tendrils of smoke into the calm afternoon air.

It was all too perfect. I looked around for a camera, sure we were being punked. But Deacon appeared to be perfectly at ease, like he knew what to expect.

“You’re him, aren’t you?” Deacon asked.

The man nodded slightly. “And you managed to bring her along. I knew my trust in you was worthwhile, St. Clare. Ms. Stratton, it is an honor.”

“How do you know my name, Columbo?”

Deacon winced as I spoke, but I wasn’t about to go easy on this Inspector Gadget wannabe. The man answered without making eye contact. “We know many things, servant of the world. We know of your work against the Forgotten. And we know of the work you have failed to do.”

That took me back a step. “And what have I failed to do?”

“I mean no disrespect. It’s just that you are ignorant of what’s really happening. Your success in Washington confirms who you are, but you do not know of the incidents happening all over the world, even as we speak.”

I looked at Deacon, but he seemed as confused as I was. “I’m in no mood for cloak and dagger bullshit. Just spill whatever you’re selling, and we can get on with this.”

The smoking man remained expressionless. “Strange diseases spreading through Australia. Bizarre weather patterns in Africa. Soldiers on the move in Europe. You’ve been sprinkling water on the fire in front of you while the whole world is preparing to burn. The time for discretion and half measures are over. War is upon us. Where is your army?”

Deacon didn’t like the tone in our mystery man’s question. “Ease up, pal. If you know so much, why aren’t you doing anything?”

“I came to you, didn’t I?”

“But not to my superiors,” Deacon snapped. “Not to someone with real power.”

“And tell me,” the man said between long draws on his cigarette. “Do you trust your superiors? Do you trust those who work beside you? How do you know that they aren’t already turned—puppets of the very gods who threaten this world? No, my job is to watch and gather information. I risked enough bringing you two together. I will offer what assistance I can, when I can, but it is up to you to rally the rest of the world. To find the other heroes who will stand with you.”

“But how do I do that?” I demanded. “And how do you know so much?”

Instead of answering, the man stood up, adjusting his suit and coat. He put out his cigarette and slipped the butt into his pocket. “We’ll be in touch, Ms. Stratton. You can be sure of it.”

I turned to grab him, filled with the desire to use force. To make him talk. But Deacon stopped me with the shake of his head. He was right. It was better this way, better not to burn the only bridge I had.

Instead, I looked him in the eye. “How do I contact you?”

“You don’t.” He paused, hands in pockets, his back to me. “I know where to find you when the time is right.” With that, he headed out a different way than when we came in, melting into the scenery. After he was gone, the only evidence he’d ever existed was the faint smell of cigarette smoke on the breeze.

I turned to Deacon. “What the shit was that?”

He gestured for me to be quiet. We retraced our steps, and as soon as we were back on the main path, he let out his breath. “Don’t ask me. You’re the one who’s been chosen or whatever.”

“I’d be pissed at you if we had options,” I muttered. “Still, he clearly knows a ton. I just wish I knew where it was coming from.”

“We’re just going to have to trust him.”

There was that word again. Maybe the man was right, the time for half measures was over.

“Sorry if he freaked you out,” Deacon said. “But I think we need to start tracking down some of these other reports. They might be painting a bigger picture that we need to be worrying about.”

“Suddenly it’s ‘we’?” I grinned at him. “I don’t remember drafting you to the team, Mr. FBI.”

“He said it—you need an army. And I know how to throw a punch when the moment calls for it.”

“Glad to hear it. But there have to be some ground rules, you hear? Don’t do anything on your own without talking to me.” I arched my eyebrows. “I’m not saying this to be a control freak. But you don’t know what you’re dealing with yet, and I’m in way deeper than you.”

“Vic, this has to be a symbiotic relationship. A give and take sort of deal. All I want is for you to acknowledge once and for all that we’re no longer on opposite sides of the issue. I can’t afford to be your enemy.”

I didn’t look at him. “Good.” The notion gave me a funny feeling in my stomach that I refused to acknowledge in any way, shape, or form.

“Good,” he answered. “Great.” We passed through a park exit and stopped on the sidewalk, facing the street. Deacon took out his phone and called an Uber. “You got anywhere you need to be? We could ride together.”

“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’ll get myself home. Thanks, though.” Part of it was that I enjoyed traversing the city solo, but there was definitely a part of me that didn’t want Deacon to have any idea where I lived. Never mind the fact that he probably knew already. I had my pride. And I suspected the whole half-squatting deal wouldn’t go over very well with an officer of the law.

Deacon studied me for a moment. “If you say so. Hey, one last thing.” He tapped his thumb idly on the locked screen of his phone. “You heard from your friend Jules lately? I was talking to Ezra the other day—I think you met him at the party. Anyways, he knows her pretty well, and he mentioned that she’s been out of touch. Guess her social media accounts have gone dark for a week or two.”

“Jules? No, I really haven’t spoken to her.” I made a face. “Has it been weeks? Man, I’m a terrible friend.” I mulled his words over in my mind. Jules had always been a web fanatic, even back in college. The fact that she wasn’t updating her accounts was troubling to say the least. “She’s probably just super busy. I’ll try to get in touch.”

A car pulled up alongside us, and Deacon moved toward it. “Good luck,” he said. “Stay safe out there, Vic. Be in touch.” He slipped into the back of the car, the door slammed, and I watched the Uber drive away. Walking down the sidewalk, I fished my phone from my bag and punched in Jules’s number, which I still knew by heart.

The call went through. On the other end of the line, her phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail box of Jules Lugnor. Please leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” Beep.

I hung up without leaving a message. Yes, it was a little weird that she hadn’t answered the first call I’d made after finding out she wasn’t updating her online presence, but the lady was an in-demand public defender. She had her own shit to take care of, and I knew most of it wasn’t going to be on the phone. She’d see I called and call me back when she got a chance. That was how our friendship had worked for years.

Resolving not to worry about it, I set my sights for home and spurred my pace into a leisurely jog. Nothing like a little cold-weather exercise to clear my mind. I’d stretch my legs before grabbing a bus back to Brooklyn. The city streamed by, all asphalt and concrete and squares of glittering glass. Slowly, my worries fell away. Things might have been crazy, but at least I was home.

Chapter Seven

“No name?” Maya sat on my bed, her eyes following the speed strikes of my hands against the old, beat-up mattress I was still using as a punching bag. “I’d think that’s the least he owes you.”

I shook my head. “He seemed pretty squirrelly.” I told her how he was dressed and how he wouldn’t even spare me a glance from the park bench. “I wouldn’t necessarily call it a disguise, but he was definitely taking pains not to stand out. And after seeing what the gods can do, I kind of understand not wanting to take the risk.”

“Yeah, but why should you take the risk?” As she spoke, the cat jumped into her lap and settled in. Despite Maya’s canine nature, she seemed to have no problem with my friendly pet.

“I don’t know.” I moved away from the punching bag and picked up the sword. “He has some serious insider information—something that’s in short supply on team Kronin. I’m going to have to trust his instincts on this. I have to know what kind of shit we’re in.”

“Deep shit,” Maya said quietly as she gave the cat a deep back massage. “Way deep. Like up to our necks in it.”

I made my voice as cheerful and encouraging as possible. “That’s okay. Nothing I haven’t waded through a hundred times before.”

The vet wasn’t buying it. “Have you thought about leaving New York?” she asked, somewhat tentatively. “I know it’s your hometown, but this stuff is crazy, Vic. Unless you’ve got something binding you here for personal reasons, wouldn’t it be better to get out while you can?”

I brought the sword up with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Her talk put me on edge, despite knowing that I couldn’t expect her to think any differently. “No. I’d spend the rest of my life thinking about all of this and wondering what it would have been like if I stayed.”

“Fair enough.” She gazed out the window. “I’m just saying, this doesn’t have to be your problem. You don’t need to fight. Let the FBI handle it.”

I snorted. “They’re not handling shit, Maya. Mister Stranger even implied that they could be compromised. Who knows?”

“Not even your friend?”

I thought for a second then threw another punch. “No, he’s clean. But he’s just one agent. He isn’t going up alone against the entire organization. I can’t ask him to forfeit his job in the name of helping me bring down a plot he didn’t even know about until very recently.” I shrugged. “You get used to flying solo if you do it for long enough. It doesn’t faze me anymore.” I dropped into pushups. Her feet bobbed in and out of sight.

“Well you’re not flying solo any longer.” Maya ran a hand through her curls. “You’re my friend now, and I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Or get consumed by all of this.”

“I don’t think of it as something that consumes me. It’s a calling. Shit’s not always easy, and I don’t always have the time of my life, but at this point, I can’t imagine doing anything else. And besides, without me, the whole world would be consumed by this. Might be anyway, despite my help.” I rolled my body into a side plank. “Maybe it’s too corny, but Marcus sometimes gives me pep talks about living up to the fullest potential of my name.”

Puzzled, Maya asked, “Vicky?”

“Victoria.” I swept my hair off my neck. “He says I have an obligation to it, even though everyone calls me Vic these days. Something about living into my name.”

Motivation is stronger when orated properly, Marcus said. There is more power behind the words, Victoria.

“Well, I’m happy to be on the side of the victorious. Even if it means staying in this shitty apartment.”

“Hey!” I yelled and fought the temptation to tackle her.

“Just kidding… mostly. It is cozy in a weird, unfinished way. Could use a bathroom door, though. And, like, a wall or two.”

I laughed. “Fair enough. Maybe we could do some remodeling eventually.” Opening my personal space, the area I thought of as my sanctuary, was another thing I never thought I’d do again. But Maya had a charm about her, an innate warmth that helped me feel comfortable in a way I was missing with everyone else except Jules. I’d already gotten used to seeing her clothes around, her toothbrush, her minimalist makeup kit.

She was becoming another fixture of my life that I never knew I needed. I was grateful, even if I didn’t know how to tell her.

“Ooh, girl,” she said. “You know I’m all about the remodeling. We could turn this place into a real estate magazine ad.”

“Except, you know, we actually have to live here. Also, it might be slightly falling apart.” Last winter, the roof leaked every time snow melted until I crawled up there and patched it.

Maya shrugged. “Between you and me, I think we could figure most things out. We make a pretty decent team.”

“Yeah.” I hid my smile and the fact that my heart was in the process of growing three sizes. It was both embarrassing and tragic to really understand how much I’d missed the sort of organic friendships that just grow from whatever they’re given. So much of my life was in near-constant upheaval that the seeds of any sort of relationship never really stayed planted. That, and I was always too obsessed with my mission to tend to them.

But now, Rocco was dead, and I was slowly finding ways to reinvent and reclaim my life. Apparently, bringing home a new person was one of them. She filled a lot of the long, cold silences in my day-to-day life with fun and laughter, the same way Marcus had when he had a body. And even though her experience with the Forgotten had been very different than mine, just knowing she was going through it with me helped me to feel less alone.

After my workout was finished, I washed up in the poor excuse for a bathroom, and then I checked my phone, fully expecting to see a response from Jules, my other friend of note. Nothing. I made a face at the screen. What was with her? Usually, she’d get back to me within the hour, if not within the minute. She was a brilliant, driven, hardworking lawyer, and she was also attached to her phone.

I debated trying her again but decided if I wasn’t careful, I might start to come off as a little bit insane. Jules was one of the most responsible people I had ever met. If she wasn’t answering her calls, she was probably asleep. And if she was still working crazy late hours, she needed her sleep.

Satisfied, I settled down and closed my eyes. “Everything is fine,” I whispered into the gentle dark. “Everything is fine.”

That is the spirit, Marcus hummed in my mind. I rolled my eyes and placed his medallion on the bedside. Maybe I had enough people in my life as it was.

Chapter Eight

As dawn filled my loft with light, I woke up ready for whatever hell the day had planned for me. Maya was sleeping on the mattress we’d purchased from a Salvation Army store, and I decided to let her be. It seemed like she was having a pleasant dream, although her legs kept twitching like she was running. It was royally pissing off the cat who was trying to snuggle up against her.

I grabbed the sword, Marcus, and the peacock feather that signaled my safe passage into Lorcan’s domain. Today was our parley atop the One World Trade Center. The thought of being face to face with the god who killed Kronin filled me with equal parts apprehension and excited adrenaline.

Maybe today would bring this whole war to an end.

Sam, my friend with the floppy hat, lay in his customary spot outside the door, his hat pulled down to block the first encroaching rays of sunlight. I bent to drop him an apple I snagged from inside, and he peered out at me through one eye. “Good morning,” he said in his quiet voice. “Bless you.”

“Morning.” I straightened up to hurry on, and he stopped me briefly.

“Have the devils been keeping you away?”

I laughed sheepishly. “Just off visiting friends out of town. That’s all.”

“I see.” He retreated under his hat. I lingered a moment, debating if I should give him some kind of warning. He could easily get caught in the crossfire if things went south at my impending meeting.

“Do me a favor and watch yourself,” I said. “Keep an eye out. Things are a little crazy in the city.”

He smiled slightly. “Crazy’s the only thing that doesn’t change here. But sometimes, it’s hard to see.”

I wanted to stay and ask him what that meant, but I didn’t have any more time to spare. After a quick nod, I hurried out to the street to begin the trek into downtown. Above the subway station, I decided to call Jules one more time.

She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Jules!” A smile burst across my face. “There you are. I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.” A wave of relief washed over me, and I felt myself breathing easier.

“Oh, sorry, love. I’ve been insanely busy. Haven’t even had time to check my messages!” She laughed breezily. “What did I miss?”

“Not much, at least on my end of things. I ran into Deacon yesterday, weirdly enough.” Jules didn’t sound nearly as tired as I expected from someone too busy to return calls, but I brushed it off. Maybe her caseload was finally winding down, and she’d found a moment to rest.

“Deacon.” She paused. “Right. You guys do the deed yet?”

“It’s not like that,” I said, frowning. It wasn’t like her to be so forward.

“Okay, fine.” Jules rustled some papers. “Anyway, I’m glad it’s working out for you, sort of. Want to meet up soon? It’s been forever.”

“Yeah, of course. The usual spot?” It was a bar we’d started frequenting in our college days. It was one of the few places that could still put me at ease, despite everything.

“Which one?” Jules asked absently.

“Park’s? The same place we always go?”

“Yeah, sure.” More papers rustled in the background. “Sorry, Vic. I’ve got to go. We’re still pretty swamped. See you… tomorrow night for dinner?”

“You’ll be unswamped by then?” I asked, somewhat doubtfully.

“Maybe not, but by then, I’ll need a couple hours off or else I might go insane.” Her laugh was wry now. “Okay, see you later.”

“Bye, Jules.” I ended the call and stood for a moment at the top of the subway stairs, looking down at my phone. Jules seemed a bit off kilter, but it was comforting to have her to look forward to. A bastion of normalcy amid the whirlwind I sensed I was about to enter.

The financial district loomed around me, casting every one of my steps in shadow. My mind was still revolving around Jules when I stopped at the very base of my destination and tilted my head all the way back. One World Trade Center towered far above me, its spire blocked out by the emerging glare of the early sun. I shielded my eyes. From down here, the windows of the top offices were nothing more than a suggestion of a gleam.

I took a deep breath. My heart thumped in my chest, the adrenaline renewing its course through my veins. The thoughts of my dinner with Jules took on a different, darker tint. Instead of looking forward to it, I wondered if I would make it there at all.

The ride up was long and quiet, underscored by soft elevator music that brought my mind back to Palo Alto. Not the best headspace to be in as I rose to meet the god who’d started all this nonsense, but I couldn’t keep my brain from drawing parallels. Another elevator making its way up another tower. I half expected to see Brax at the top.

Then the car let out a dainty little ding, and the doors slid open to reveal a wide, sprawling office space. Huge, floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the area with morning light. Every desk was occupied as far as I could see. I inhaled another deep, stabilizing breath.

They were all vampires. They had to be. Most vamps could pass as human, and there was nothing physically off about the people on this floor. But there was something undeniably predatory in the way they stared at me. The sensation of all their eyes on my flesh made the hair rise on the back of my neck. I fought hard not to let it show.

Keep cool, Victoria. This hive of villainy is nothing you have not seen before.

Marcus was right, in theory, but it was still daunting to see so many. I wondered what else I wasn’t being shown.

The large door in the back opened just enough to let Delano and his familiar black duster slide over the threshold. His eyes fell over me, and he smiled that thin, toothy, Cheshire Cat grin that I had come to know and loathe.

“Welcome, sword-wielder. You are precisely on time.”

I scowled. “Far be it from me to keep a sociopath waiting.”

Delano chuckled. “Worry not. Your crude levity is much appreciated. Lord Lorcan gets awfully bored waiting for things to happen. It is quite fortunate for you to fall into his lap at a time like this.” His vaguely saccharine tone of voice made my skin crawl. Niceties just didn’t wear well on him.

“Our parley is still on, right?” I pulled the peacock feather out of my bag. “That’s all I’m here for. Don’t bother with the sweet talk.”

Delano turned toward the big door. “Yes, I see the effort was lost on you. No matter.” He opened the door and strode in before me, coming to attention in front of a desk the size of a small car. “My Lord,” he intoned. “Your guest of honor has arrived.”

Behind the desk was the biggest chair I’d ever seen, currently facing away from me. It was so big that I could only get a hint of Lorcan’s reflection in the glass beyond. “Most excellent.” The god’s voice was smooth and cold as ice. I shivered involuntarily and reached for the medallion around my neck.

Lorcan laughed without turning around. “Ah yes, the Roman is here as well. Last time I saw him, he was bleeding out on the golden floors of Carcerum. It seems he was more resilient than I gave him credit for. But I wish to hear your words, not his. Put him away, or I shall consider this parley void.”

Delano moved a step closer, and I could feel the presence of the vampire horde on the other side of the wall. One flick of his finger and they’d descend upon me. Not even the sword could save me then.

It is all right, Vic. You know what to do. I believe in you.

I took a breath and removed my chain.

“I’m playing by your rules, Lorcan, but you should do the same,” I said, stuffing the medallion into my pocket. “A parley demands respect from both sides.”

“Ostensibly, yes.” I could tell Lorcan was smiling on the other side of that chair, and it pissed me off.

“Then turn and face me, or I walk.”

Deafening silence fell over the office. Delano’s whole body stiffened. I stared hard at the back of the office chair, daring it to turn around, wanting to look this scumbucket in the face. My heart pounded. I resisted the urge to ball my hands into fists. Self-control was the name of the game; even I knew that.

Unfortunately, it was a game I’d never been very good at.

“Look.” I reached into my bag and brought out the peacock feather. “I’ve been told this means something to you. So, I expect you to honor it.”

“Hush, girl,” Delano hissed. “Your impudence has no place here.”

My eyes bored a hole in the side of his face, but I bit my tongue. Part of me wanted to settle things right then and there, but I couldn’t ignore the fact that Lorcan was a literal god. He might obliterate me in the blink of an eye if he decided I wasn’t worth his time.

Still, I had killed gods before. Well, technically only one god. And an oversized vampire.

Lorcan raised a hand. “Let her be, Delano. She has a point. And we do have need of her.” He paused. “For now.”

“You don’t scare me.” I held the feather tightly like a weapon. It helped to know I had a real sword with me.

“Ah, the empty bravado of mortals.” The chair on the other side of the desk swiveled, finally revealing the profile of the god. Like Lupres and Lysiani, he was tall—unnaturally stretched like he was left on the drying rack for too long. He looked human upon first glance, but the longer I stared at him, the more I could see the proportions were off. It gave me vertigo.

He flicked his pale gaze, so much like Delano’s, to me. I suppressed a shudder at the way he looked me up and down, like he was a dealer appraising an antique or some shit. In an instant, it became abundantly clear what he thought of me.

Lorcan stood up, never taking his eyes off me. He adjusted his clothes—all black—with precise, measured movements of his left hand. The way it hugged his body, the suit could have been painted on, like a second skin. Then he smiled, drew his right hand from behind his back, and revealed a matching peacock feather. He laid it on the desk in front of him.

“Is this what you seek?” His voice had an undercurrent of inhumanity that made my blood run cold. “Mutual assurance?” The smile widened a bit. “You have nothing to fear in that regard. Parley will be honored to its fullest extent. I’ve brought you here for one reason only. I have a request. An offer, if you will.”

I kept my face pointedly neutral. “Well?”

Delano, who had moved off to the side after being chastised by his boss, visibly grimaced.

“Simple.” Lorcan arched his eyebrows. “I want you to kill the mayor.”

Chapter Nine

The words took a minute for me to process, and once I did, I still couldn’t believe what I’d heard. “Excuse me? The mayor, as in, the mayor of New York City? Inglewood?”

“The very same.” Lorcan ran his finger along the edge of the feather, appearing to admire its iridescence. “At one time, the man had been an asset, but he has worn out his welcome as of late. To put it in terms you may understand, he is now standing in the way of progress. I require him to be removed.”

“And why the hell do you think I’ll be the one to do that for you?” My knuckles had gone white on the stem of the feather.

“Why not?” he asked as if it were the most logical decision in the world. “You have proven yourself to be uncommonly strong. It would behoove us both for you to join the winning team. Trust me. It would not be without rich reward. I can give you your own little kingdom on Earth.” He drummed his fingertips on the desktop. “Where would you like to reign? Martha’s Vineyard, perhaps? Cleveland?”

“Fucking Cleveland?” This time, the answer came to me so quickly, it almost jumped out on its own. “Hell no. This is my hometown. And I’ll be damned before I kill the ones I’m trying to protect.”

“I see your wisdom does not match your courage,” Lorcan mused. He moved around the corner of the desk toward me. His steps were long and lithe, like a snake on legs. “I suspected as much. You lack the context to appreciate the transformation about to be undergone by this pitiful world. The gods will once again rule over the human domain. The only question is, which gods?” He stroked his long, sharp chin. “Mortal beasts were never meant to have power over themselves. Soon, you will see the truth in this.”

I ground my teeth. “There’s no truth in it. All you’ve told me so far are the same bullshit lies I’ve heard from your friends. You know, the ones I cut to pieces.” My forced manners had worn out; I was ready to fight.

Lorcan’s face hardened, just subtly, before he regained control over himself. “A war is coming, child. Your precious mayor stands in my way. I am not above proceeding without your assistance, but if I cannot find a suitable human ambassador to do the necessary work in my stead, I’m afraid the number of casualties will be much more severe.” Seeing that I wasn’t convinced, he turned and swept his hand over the desk. “Observe.”

A deep pool of shadow spread across the glass desk. Working his hands like a puppet master, Lorcan extracted figures, pulling them up from the bottom. First there was Jules, then Mac, then Maya. Then, Deacon. He glanced at me, scanning my face for a reaction, and dug deeper. Pieces of my past began to appear, some I hadn’t seen since before my parents died.

“Get to the point,” I told him. My fingernails bit into my palms. I fought to keep the peacock feather from trembling.

“Don’t you see the point?” One by one, Lorcan eliminated my small circle of family and friends. I watched them burst into wisps of shadowy smoke. “Should you choose the other side, these are the people who will die with you, alongside the rest of your pitiful race. If they are lucky, they might become slaves, allowed to live in eternal tormented service to a god far less magnanimous than I.” He folded his arms, clearly self-satisfied. “Or they could live out their lives in the peace afforded by my kingdom—with you by their side.” He waved his hand again, and my parents emerged from the darkness. “And if you do exceedingly well as my servant, there are other rewards. I am a generous god, after all.”

I stared at the dark image of my parents, weighing his words. Everything in me wanted to believe him. Why not? He was the god of death. Maybe he could restore life, too.

His smile stretched larger. “So, do we have a deal?”

I swallowed and poured every ounce of rage into my reply. “You can take your deal and shove it straight up your ass, dickwad.”

Delano let out a strangled bark of outrage. He wasn’t silenced this time. A vein began to pulse at the side of his head. He whipped around to compose himself, running both hands over his slick hair. The rage was palpable in every aspect of his physical form, his posture straight as a pin, long fingers digging into his scalp.

“Humans confound me,” Lorcan said. “They always have. How can one with your power remain such a fool? I have presented you with everything you could ever want—everything—and yet you persist in your defiance. Whatever drivel Kronin’s lackey fed you has corrupted your brain and rendered you unsalvageable for any purpose other than sacrifice.” He drew in a long breath and let it out. “Very well. I must say I am highly disappointed. I thought perhaps we could forge an alliance. Prevent the bloodshed that will follow. A history-making, of sorts.” He turned back toward me, an expression of chagrin pasted on his face. Lifting one hand, he snapped his fingers. “We could be true heroes.”

The feather on the desk erupted into flames.

I snapped to attention, glancing from Lorcan to Delano and back again. They were both grinning now, their twin sets of shark teeth flashing.

“What does that mean?” I had slim hope they’d actually tell me, but it was worth a shot.

Sure enough, both of those creepy assholes just burst out laughing. The sound of it made a cold hand clench the base of my spine.

Something tickled my fingers. I looked down to see my own feather crumbling into ashes. The message was pretty damn clear: parley over.

I yanked the medallion out of my pocket and slung it around my neck. “Marcus, what the shit is going on here?”

Lorcan has dismissed the parley. Something that either party is allowed to do. You have approximately the same amount of time it would take for a king to exit an enemy’s castle. It is customary to afford the fleeing party a grace period; however—

“There’s no time for a history lesson! How fucking long?”

Five minutes, give or take.

“Screw that!” I drew the Gladius Solis out of my bag, summoning the blade in the same thought. Ever reliable, it came blazing to life. I felt an instant sense of comfort and security. Funny how I’d reached the point in my life where a sword was the thing I turned to for solace.

The god’s nasty grin widened when he saw the weapon. “My old friend,” he murmured. “It has been too long.”

“Trust me.” I glared at him. “This thing is not your friend.” Then I rushed the desk, vaulting over it with one hand, raising the sword in the other. Lorcan didn’t move until I was inches from him, the light from the blade searing his sallow face. Then he was nothing. He disappeared into a mass of moving shadows through which the sword cut seamlessly. But as the shadows faded, the god was nowhere to be found.

I wheeled around to try for Delano instead and found an empty room behind me. The office door was the only thing standing there. And on the other side of it, how many vamps? Dozens? Fifty? Something told me the latter was probably more accurate.

Go, Victoria. Make haste. As you said, there is no time.

Spurred on by Marcus’s urging, I barreled out of the corner office and tore ass through the open space, keeping my eyes fixed on the elevator bank dead ahead. The outer office area was eerily silent, though I was well aware of all the vamps watching me, awaiting the impending official end of parley. I didn’t need to be told that as soon as that time was up, they’d be trying their damnedest to tear me limb from limb or drain me dry like a juice box.

I pounded the down button over and over, eyes locked on the digital counter above the doors. The car seemed to climb with incredible slowness, and I kept hitting that button because it made me feel better to be doing something. Behind me, I thought I sensed the vamps starting to creep closer. Cold sweat beaded on my skin. “Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “Come on!”

As soon as the car began to open, I sprang inside and hammered the close-doors button, simultaneously mashing my thumb into the first-floor indicator. The doors shut on a sea of hungry eyes peering in on me. I was right. They had gotten closer. Holy shit, things were bad.

There were so many of them. And there was no way I’d be out the front doors before that invisible timer went off. I held my sword in one hand and watched the floors tick down from 105. “Do you think we’re safe?” I asked out loud, mostly to quell the silence.

No. Who knows how much of this place is under his sway?

“Shit. Marcus, I think we’re completely boned.”

Fear not, Victoria. Rely on your instincts, your strength, and above all, your courage. You can make it out of here.

I inhaled, closed my eyes, exhaled, and decided Marcus was right. It was either that or resign myself to a grisly, humiliating death trapped in this elevator car like an animal in a cage. And that, I wasn’t prepared to accept. Shaking the tension out of my arms and shoulders, I re-gripped the hilt of the sword. “Okay. Bring it on.”

There is the Victoria I trained. He sounded so proud. I knew I couldn’t let him down.

The jig was up at floor fifty-three. The elevator came shuddering to a stop, and its lights died out. I waited in darkness for two seconds. A loud, banging thud rocked the car from above, like something heavy landing on the roof. Then another. And another. The sons of bitches were jumping down the elevator shaft!

The screech of ripping metal assaulted my ears as a little light seeped in from the newly torn open access panel. Three sets of eyes looked in on me, glowing in the dimness.

I brought my blade into being and stared back at them. “You’re fucking late, assholes.”

They didn’t answer with words. A shape dropped down in front of me, grotesque and drooling. He snarled from behind oversized fangs, which gnashed together angrily. Definitely worse than the vamps I’d seen at the slaughterhouse. This one was almost completely distinct from his human form, his torso and limbs gnarled at odd, unsettling angles. It seemed that like shitty wine, these vamps didn’t age well.

The ropey muscles of his arms twitched beneath the grey skin, and the claws glimmered in the dim light. It coiled back onto its haunches, and I knew what was coming.

When it lunged at me, screeching, I was more than ready to slice it clean in half.

Chapter Ten

The vampire fell to the elevator floor in two pieces, already crumbling away into dust. I turned my face upward again to the others still peering in through the torn panel. “What’s the hold up? Come down here and join me.”

They blinked and disappeared. The lift began to rock again, accompanied by a grating, sawing sound. Before I had a chance to properly process what was happening, the elevator car plunged in freefall. My stomach dropped out, and the breath rushed from my lungs.

Purely on instinct, I rammed the Gladius Solis through the wall, bracing with both hands against the side of the elevator shaft. The ungodly scream of friction filled my ears, but I also felt myself slowing down. Grudgingly, the car ground to a halt.

I took half a second to will my knees to stop shaking. Despite the trembling, my body seemed otherwise intact, and I’d somehow managed not to soil myself, which I counted as a win. That wouldn’t have been very heroic.

It felt like I’d fallen at least twenty stories, but all the displays had gone dead when the cables were cut, so I had no way to be sure. I left the sword where it was while I pried the doors open with my nectar-enhanced strength. The falling car was almost perfectly aligned with the thirtieth floor.

I backed up, laid a hand on the hilt, and psyched myself up.

Victoria, please tell me you are not planning what I think you are planning.

“Oh, it’s happening, Marcus,” I said.

I would strongly advise against—

“No time for debate,” I said.

In one swift motion, I yanked the sword out of the wall and performed a long, desperate leap for freedom.

The elevator dropped so quickly after the sword came free that I barely had time to get my left foot clear. I swore the edge of the disappearing car scraped my sole. I tried not to think about it much. Fortunately, I had other things to worry about. Launching to my feet, I made a mad dash for the stairwell.

The cacophony of the crashing elevator car was bound to attract more unwanted attention.

When I made it onto the stairs, the air filled with the sounds of doors being flung open on floors above and below me. The stomp of footsteps cascaded upward and downward. Vampires dropped from higher levels. I dodged to the side just in time to escape being crushed to death by a huge, meathead vamp who only managed to catch the edge of my sword, despite all his efforts.

“One down, about a million to go,” I said.

Remember your training, Victoria. And remember that I am with you. We are still partners.

“Unless you can find a body and your spear, I’m afraid you can’t do much but watch from the sidelines.”

I held the sword in front of me at an angle, using it to plow down the vamps that popped up to block my path. The steps themselves were a little easier—it was difficult for the monsters to keep their footing on uneven ground, and despite their enhanced bodies, most weren’t especially skilled fighters. I either cut straight through them or knocked them to the side over the railings. It was morbidly amusing to see them fall like undead dominoes.

If only there weren’t so many. I couldn’t get that thought out of my head, even though I knew fixating on it wouldn’t help. The vamp rain wouldn’t let up, and some of them came perilously close to landing directly on top of me. More than a few vicious talons raked my back, shoulders, arms, and legs as I ran toward the first floor. They grabbed for my hair, too.

“Note to self: cut that shit off when I get home!” I shouted.

The sound of my voice appeared to surprise the vamps closest to me, allowing an opportunity to thin the herd a little. But wherever a vamp dropped beneath the Gladius Solis, another one showed up within a second to take its place. From the sound of it, the stairwell at my back was filling up to max capacity with a whole massive throng of Lorcan’s thralls, all thirsting for my blood.

You are performing excellently, Victoria. Keep your head clear and steady. Lorcan’s servants are strong, but there is little intelligence in their heads post-transformation. All you have to do is outlast them.

“Is this always how parley ends?” I used the sword to skewer a couple of vampires together, throwing them off the second-floor landing. One more flight was all that lay between me and the ground-floor atrium.

Very often, yes. Except that the pursued rarely manages to escape. I felt it prudent to keep this fact to myself.

“Well, thanks for keeping it real.” I slashed my way down the first set of steps and rounded the corner. Another huge vamp blocked my way. Its eyes were wild, the skin scraggly and peeling in places.

The teeth in this one’s mouth were even jankier than usual, all jammed in against purplish gums. But it was stupid, and as it reared back to bearhug me to death in the cramped space in front of the door to the first floor, I stabbed it straight in the heart and leapt over the collapsing hulk.

The door opened into a pile of dusty ash. I had never been so grateful that part of the vamp legend was true.

The home stretch from the stairwell to the front door of the tower was no better. In fact, from my current vantage point, things looked a hell of a lot worse from out here. A gaping hole yawned above the ruined elevator bank, pouring a river of vamps out the bottom of the shaft. More were already trailing me from the stairs. I even saw a few busting in from the street.

“Can we make sure the next god we fight doesn’t have a tower full of minions? Gods, it almost makes me miss that bird-brained bitch. At least she was discerning about who she turned into harpies.”

My slashing arm was starting to go a little bit numb, and for the first time, the injuries I had sustained in my fight down the stairs were making themselves known. Underneath my coat, my shirt and sweater were heavy and growing slowly stiff with blood. I felt it running down my back and chest, even into my boots. The nectar’s magic surged through my veins, but its repairs were slow, albeit steady. The frayed edge of fatigue nipped at my heels.

I had to get the hell out of there. Head down, sword out, I charged like an angry bull. The vamps didn’t scatter, but they weren’t much of a match for the flash of Kronin’s sword. They struck like a hailstorm, melting off the end of the blade. Ash poured around my feet, billowing up into the air. I squeezed my eyes down to slits, struggling against the urge to sneeze.

Then the doors were right in front of me, and I was throwing them open into the street. The sword burned like a sun in the haze of ash. Fully cognizant of the storm swirling in the One World Trade Center, I picked the lesser of two evils and darted into the street.

A black town car, windows tinted, came around the corner and slammed on its brakes, tires screeching on the pavement. I ducked to the side and catapulted into the backseat.

“Drive like hell!” I yelled through the pane of privacy glass separating me from the driver. “Now!” I braced the sword at the ready behind the driver’s seat. “Don’t ask questions. Don’t slow down. Just go!”

The car peeled away, burning rubber. I twisted around in my seat, looking back at the shrinking tower of glass. A torrent of vamps should have been surging from the front doors, but I saw nothing. I knit my brows. While I was preoccupied, a hum filled the car as the privacy glass slid down.

“You made a foolish mistake, sword-bearer.”

I turned around so fast I might have given myself whiplash. Delano eyed me through the rearview mirror, his gaze inscrutable. “What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded. The sword blazed.

“Calm yourself, girl. I’m simply giving you a second chance. A reprieve. An opportunity to weigh your options and truly think about the consequences of your actions.” He stepped on the gas as the light turned green. “Take a night to sleep on things. I believe your tone will change if you know what is good for you and everyone you love. Are you willing to experience such loss a second time?”

“Don’t you dare,” I snapped. He’d gotten the drop on me, but not so much that he was allowed to say those kinds of things. “Just tell me what your angle is. I don’t have anything to give you or your deranged master.”

Delano sighed in the manner of a disappointed parent. “Lord Lorcan is a god above gods, a destroyer of regimes and worlds. I am not, and perhaps this is why I serve as a lowly Apprenti. I believe strongly in the forces of logic and reason above all others, including violence. And I am trying to help you see the light of rationality in the depths of the very real situation you are in.”

“Killing the mayor doesn’t strike me as particularly rational,” I told him.

“Because you are consumed by small thinking. All humans are. Your tiny lives are so insignificant that you lack the ability to think beyond the next day, the next hour. Here, we must play a longer game, where rewards are all the sweeter for their perceived delay.” He paused. “And in case your heart has soured against Lord Lorcan, I can assure you that he means every word he says. Join him and he will provide for your every need, as long as your soul walks the Earth.”

“Not at the price he’s asking,” I said. “And if you’re so keen on reason, why is it so easy for you to buy into his bullshit?”

I still held my sword behind Delano’s seat, which he surely knew, but I hadn’t anticipated the chance to actually talk with him again. Not that he was any less suspicious. All the players in this game had an agenda, and I suspected that his was more convoluted than most. It was hard to believe that someone serving a god like Lorcan truly valued logic more than anything.

“I have seen him at work, borne witness to the glorious fruits of his vision. Lorcan’s quest for power is absolute, but that does not mean he won’t attend to the needs of his loyal subjects. I have led an enviable existence in his thrall. Lord Lorcan deserves to hold the reins of the world again. He will make Earth as it ought to be—a New Heaven, if you will.”

A heaven made in Lorcan’s image. I’d choose hell over that any day. Whatever Delano was, if he couldn’t see that, he deserved his master’s company. “Yeah, okay. I’ve heard enough. This is my stop.” I fully expected Delano to keep driving, but he pulled to the side of the road and stopped the town car.

“Do not let your misguided sense of mortal pride blind you to the harsh realities of your world’s predicament,” he said. I tried the door handle; locked. “You are the one who controls the fate of humanity. Remember that—and choose wisely. The war is almost here.” Once more, he held my gaze in the mirror. Then the locks disengaged, and I was out of there.

The car pulled away almost silently as soon as I stood on the pavement. I looked after it, doing my best to grasp everything that the Apprenti had said. Where did I stand now? Where did anything stand? Was there really going to be an all-out war, and if so, how soon?

It was like I was back at square one. No answers, only a maelstrom of burningly urgent questions. And my body ached like hell.

“Thoughts?” I queried Marcus as I made my way down the street, the Gladius Solis safely in my pocket. My heartbeat gradually slowed to normal.

My first thought is that you require medical attention. Nectar notwithstanding, a walk all the way to your home would only exacerbate your injuries. I suggest that you summon a yellow chariot.

I groaned. The idea didn’t appeal to me, except that I really was hurting, and Delano had let me out a good few miles from home. Grudgingly, I went to the curb and hailed the first cab I saw. “There. Any other thoughts?”

The Apprenti must want something from you as well. Perhaps not in the short term, but he did say he was aiming more toward the future. Be cautious around him, but do not cut him off just yet. The fact that he is capable of working on a different wavelength from Lorcan is something that may be used to your advantage in the future.

I grinned slightly as the cab drew to a halt in front of me. “You’re saying I should exploit a demigod?”

Demigod to the god who destroyed my king. Marcus’s voice turned grim. I owe him no mercy.

I gave the cabbie the address of Mac’s newspaper stand and sat back against the vinyl seat, closing my eyes. Another day, another shitload of vamps mown down beneath my fiery blade.

Business as usual.

But I had the feeling that this rollercoaster was nearing the top of its last big hill. And after it went over, who knew how far I’d have to plunge?

Chapter Eleven

Maya met me at the door to the loft. “Hey, I was about to send out a search party! What took you so…” She took one look at me and trailed off. “What the hell? Girl, get your butt in here. You’re so lucky I followed you three thousand miles home.”

I winced as she pulled me over the threshold. Then I smirked. “Like a puppy?”

She rolled her eyes. “I swear, the worst part about becoming a werewolf is all your cheesy jokes.”

“You love it,” I said, pretty sure she was suppressing a smile.

“Well, this puppy went to some form of med school, thank you very much.” Together, we gingerly peeled off my coat, and Maya let out a low whistle. “I take it the meeting didn’t go so well.”

I shrugged, wincing again as a bolt of pain shot through my shoulders. “Wasn’t so bad. I made it back, didn’t I?”

Maya went to work removing the shreds of my shirt. “Was he really there?” she asked. “The god? This isn’t going to feel great, by the way. I wish there was more I could do for the pain, but I haven’t got any numbing agent.”

“It’s fine,” I said tightly. “I can take it. Ow!”

“Oh, hush,” Maya said. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

“But yeah, the god was there. With a vampire army the size of Manhattan. They cut the elevator while I was trying to get out.”

“They what?” Maya paused. “You want me to heat up some water for this? I’m offering because it’s apparent you’re not about to die right this second, and warm water might make it more bearable.”

I sighed. “Why not? Thanks, Maya.” I pulled my hair off my neck, scowling as I realized there was blood in it. “I should have expected it anyway.”

“Never trust the gods. Rule number one for working on your team.” Maya filled my one pot with water and put it on the stove, which she lit with a match. I had to admit I was impressed by her ability to adapt to new surroundings. It kind of felt like we’d been roommates forever. “So, what was he like?”

“An asshole. But I’ve got to admit, he’s powerful. And not just in the ‘controlling an army of vamps with the flick of his wrist’ kind of way. It rolled off of him. The force of his will. And his contempt for all of us.”

“Sounds like a real charmer.”

I shrugged. “Well, he does have a way with words. I’ll give him that. And he knows how to wear a suit. But it’s what he wanted that has me the most upset.”

She put the lid on the pot. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“He wanted me to kill Mayor Inglewood.” I watched her eyes narrow and then go wide. “Yeah. That’s the face I made, too.”

“I mean, I guess as far as diabolical plans go, it’s not that bad. He’s not blowing up the moon or anything. But if this dude’s as powerful as he says, why would he need you for that?”

“I don’t know. Said the mayor was ‘standing in his way,’ or something like that.”

Lorcan is a master tactician. Perhaps he thought you’d take the deal—add you to his army. Perhaps he just wanted to see you in person. Perhaps there is something else he wants entirely.

Maya fidgeted. “You said no, right?” She looked embarrassed and faintly ashamed to even be asking, but the question presented itself nonetheless. “I mean, the harm that would cause—”

“Of course, I said no. How did you think I ended up looking like this?”

“Okay.” Maya relaxed. “Sorry I asked. I guess I just had to make sure. I recognize that this fight will force me to cross some lines, but that’s a step I couldn’t take. Cold-blooded murder isn’t for me.” She checked the water, carefully stuck her pinky in, and turned off the burner. “Almost ready.”

“The thing is, part of me wanted to say yes. Kill one innocent person, save potentially thousands more? He made it all sound so simple. Which is how I knew the right answer was no. Whatever this world has in store for us, it’s not simple.”

She set the pot down hard on the floor as if to make my point. The steam from the hot water felt good on my cold skin. I had grown to be very fond of my jacked-up little loft space, but winters could still be brutal. The cold weather was starting to settle in deep, especially at night.

Maya dipped a washcloth and started on the gashes across my back. She worked as delicately as possible, and yet I was reminded over and over that the nectar had not negated my pain receptors in any way.

“I’m sorry,” she said again as I winced. “I know this sucks, and I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but I think some of these are going to need stitches.”

I shook my head. “Even if I had health insurance, I still wouldn’t go to the hospital. Needles freak me out. No stitches.”

“Oh please, Vic. You run around with that giant sword, and you’re gonna tell me you’re too weenie to get stitches? You literally just had a horde of vampires trying to kill you. Stitches should be nothing!”

I grumbled. “I just don’t like them.”

“As a healthcare professional—” Maya began.

“A veterinarian,” I interrupted.

“A healthcare professional,” she insisted, “I have to override that decision. These are deep, and they bled a lot. They would have laid out anyone who wasn’t deeply ensnared in some magical malarkey. You need them stitched, or else you could get an infection.”

“Marcus, help.” I squeezed the medallion.

She snorted. “As if I’m going to take medical advice from a man who was born while they were still brushing their teeth with pee and rat brains.”

I wrinkled my nose. “That can’t be true.”

My apologies, Victoria. I am afraid I must side with Maya on this matter. As a warrior-hero, you must care for your body as if it were a sacred artifact.

“Ugh.” Maya rinsed the cuts. “Look, it’ll be easy. I’ve been trained. I have a degree. If you trust me, I’ll do the stitches myself. I won’t even charge you.” She wrung out the cloth. “No one’s disputing that this is crazy, and if you told me a month ago I’d be performing freelance stitchery on another person in their loft in Brooklyn Heights, I would’ve referred you to a good therapist. But you really do need this, and if this is the only way I can make it happen, so be it.”

I hemmed and hawed, seeing if she would budge given enough time. She didn’t. “Fine,” I said at last. “Just don’t show me any of it, and like, do it as fast as you can.”

“It won’t hurt much more than the cleaning,” Maya said. “I’ll use a small needle. I have a sewing kit. Everything will be sterilized, of course.”

“Oh, great.” I heaved a deep, only slightly dramatic sigh. “I’m not worried about the pain. I really don’t like needles. That’s all.” An image of vamp-Rocco holding the syringe full of Lorcan’s blood flashed in my mind. “For a bunch of reasons.”

“That’s okay.” Maya rooted through her pack. “I shouldn’t have made fun of you for it. It’s a pretty common phobia.” She glanced at me. “Why don’t you lie down? It’ll make stitching easier, and you look like you’re on the verge of passing out anyway.”

That was the best idea I’d heard in ages. Stretching out on my stomach, I instantly felt about ten times better, and the warm wash of sleep began poking into the corners of my brain. I let my eyes close, filtering out everything except the ambient sounds of Maya getting her things ready.

“So, here’s a question for you,” she said. I figured she was trying to keep my mind off what was about to happen.

“Shoot,” I replied.

“I thought that nectar stuff you drank was supposed to heal you. Why do you even need stitches?”

So much for keeping my mind off stitches. I made a mental note to give Maya feedback on her bedside manner.

“It’s complicated,” I said. “When I drank the nectar, I was pretty banged up. Marcus gave me the last of his reserve. It saved my life and radically changed my body. It healed me and gave me the strength and speed I needed to finish my fight with a mad super-vampire.”

She shook her head. “Damn. Too bad Marcus couldn’t snag more of that before he came down here.”

I managed to get the Gladius Solis to safety. You would think the world would be a bit more grateful.

I smiled. “He says you make a great point. But anyway, while the after effects will keep me at the top of my game for a good long while—and help me heal faster—it’s not like I’ve become a god or anything. I’m still mortal. Hell, it wasn’t even enough to keep Marcus alive forever, and he’d been drinking the stuff for centuries.

The nectar can preserve life, but it cannot hold off death forever. Especially if you receive a fatal wound. And even the gods can die, under the right circumstances.

“And it’s really good news that the nectar isn’t all powerful,” I said. “It means that even if Lorcan got his hands on some, it wouldn’t save him once I run my sword through his neck.”

“Man,” she said after a little while. “I still can’t believe he asked you if you’d kill the mayor. What an asshole.”

“I know,” I mumbled into the pillow. “Like it or not, things are accelerating. It won’t be much longer before the gods are moving in public.” Delano’s words rang in my ears. “War is almost here.”

The smell of rubbing alcohol hit my nostrils. Maya stood over me. Looking at my wounds once again, she sighed. “If this is peacetime, I might not be ready for war. Now get ready to hate my guts.”

“Been ready.” Then the alcohol hit the open slashes, and I made a sound like a puppy getting kicked. “Holy shitballs!”

“See!” Maya said encouragingly. “After this, the stitches won’t seem so bad at all.”

“Just burn my skin off while you’re at it,” I answered. “I think it would hurt less.”

She patted an unscathed section of my shoulder. “Close your eyes, and pretend you’re somewhere soothing. It’ll be over soon.”

I held my breath as she started the needlework, the aftermath of the alcohol wipe still burning. It was not nice by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t as awful as I’d hyped it up to be in my mind. By that time, I was so beat that I drifted in and out of a light, fitful doze anyway.

Ah, Victoria. This is nothing compared to the field surgeries in my day.

“Thank goodness I wasn’t around then,” I muttered sleepily.

“Hm?” Maya paused. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah.” I gave her a lazy thumbs-up. “Just sassing Marcus. That’s all. I’m fine.” I readjusted myself, propping my head up with both arms.

Maya went back to work.

“You should get out of here,” I said to her, my words a little thick with sleep. “Out of the city, I mean. Not out of my house.”

“Are you saying that because I’m in the process of threading up your back?” She was smiling.

“No. Shit’s getting real, Maya. That stuff you saw with Delano and the vamps in the alley? That’s only a fraction of what it’s going to be like.” I chewed my lip. “It’s so much more than New York and a few small towns in Washington. It’ll be global eventually.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “I figured. I’ve thought about that a lot these past few days, even before we got caught out in the alley. And I really thought for a while that I was just biding my time before getting the hell out of Dodge, maybe going back to California to see my parents.” She sighed. “But the whole reason I got into animal medicine in the first place was because I wanted to help, you know? I wanted to be more than just a productive member of society. I care about all life so much.”

“Spoken like a true vegan.”

“Don’t taunt the woman with a needle,” she said. “But I mean it. Every single lifeform on this planet is important to me.” She hesitated. “Well, all the ones that belong here. So, I feel like I have a moral obligation to help because of my profession and because of the life decisions I’ve already made.”

“Do vets have to take the Hippocratic Oath?”

“For your information, we have our own version called the Veterinarian’s Oath. It makes us swear to use our skills and knowledge to further science, society, and for the benefit of all animals. Humans are animals, too, so it’s totally applicable here.”

“And vamps?”

“Dr. Williams never mentioned them in my ethics courses.” She cut off the end of a thread. “One more and then you’re good to go. We’ll have to keep an eye on these, but they look pretty damn good for a home job, if I do say so myself.”

“Thanks. I didn’t know vets had an oath.” Sleep was slowly winning the battle against my conscious mind.

“Now you do. I saved the smallest cut for last, so we should be done soon. Then you can get some sleep.”

“Okay, Mom.” There was a word I hadn’t said to anyone in ages. My heart squeezed a little, but it was too late to take it back.

“Hey, Vic.”

“Hmm?”

Maya spoke quietly. “I’m glad I’m here. So you’ve got someone to fix you up.”

“Yeah.” I smiled. “Me too.”

Chapter Twelve

A little over twenty-four hours after Maya performed home surgery on me, I sat at Park’s with a beer in my hand, listening to Jules tell me a story about her latest client’s very public breakdown in court.

“So, I’m sitting there watching this all happen, and the judge is threatening to hold us in contempt if we can’t get her to control herself, and my co-counsel is practically losing her mind. I thought I was going to have to slap her myself.”

I laughed, which my stitches did not like. “Did you?”

“I thought about it!” She grinned. “But no, of course not. There are cameras all over the courthouses these days. My bosses would have known about it before we adjourned.”

“I guess that’s true.” I took a sip of my drink. “It’s great to see you, Jules. I’m sorry we keep falling in and out of touch. I’ll try to do better from now on.”

“You and me both.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “It’s weird how life just sort of happens, isn’t it? One minute, you’re just starting college, and the next, you’re trying to be a functional adult in a seriously messed-up world. Things start to fall through the cracks.”

I chuckled. “You sound like me. We did have some really good times in college though, huh?”

“Yeah. Like the time you almost burned down the whole townhouse making pizza rolls in the oven.”

“What?” I grinned. “That wasn’t the townhouse. That was our first off-campus apartment. We lost our security deposit to pay for the scorch marks in the ceiling, remember?”

Her face lit up. “Oh, yeah! Then the townhouse had the broken toilet that we had to flush with a bucket for a week.”

“Yeah, and then it took another three days for us to be home at the right time so the service guy could actually fix it.” I tilted my head. “Usually, you’re the one reminding me of this stuff. I think you’ve been working too hard.”

“Yeah.” She took down her long blonde hair and shook it out over her shoulders. “But what else is new, right? Such is the life of a public defender. I can’t be emotionally fulfilled unless I’m being screamed at by four different people at the same time about unrelated things.” She leaned forward. “Speaking of emotional fulfillment, how’s Deacon? I kind of cut you off last time before you could tell me anything really juicy.”

“There’s nothing juicy to tell, Jules! I keep running into the guy every now and then. That’s it.”

“Uh huh. And would these run-ins happen to look an awful lot like something the rest of us might call a date?” A mischievous smile crept onto her face. “I get you, Vic, always downplaying your romantic situations. There’s no shame in seeing someone! Especially not someone as hot as Deacon.”

“I’m not seeing him,” I persisted, aware that I was starting to protest maybe too much. “We just happen to encounter each other sometimes.”

Jules giggled. “I think he’s going to be the one to break down the Great Wall of Victoria.” I opened my mouth, and she forged ahead. “Mark my words, Vic Stratton. Deacon’s going to melt the block of ice around your heart.”

I drained my beer. “Whatever. I’m going to get us another round.”

“If you say so.” Jules handed me her glass. “After this, what do you say we head back to my place? If I keep going out for my drinks, I’ll literally never be able to leave work.”

“Fair enough,” I said, acting like I wasn’t in an even more compromising financial position. I got our drinks and closed out the tab. Jules and I whiled away another hour in our cozy booth at Park’s. For once, just two friends having a normal night out. I didn’t even let myself feel all that paranoid.

“Come on.” Jules pushed her empty glass aside and shrugged on her coat. “I’ve got a ten-dollar box of wine with our names on it. You good for a little more?”

“Me? Who do you think you’re talking to, Miss Lightweight New York?” I was wearing a spare coat since mine was still drying in the loft. We’d managed to get the blood out after much fretting and forced patience.

“That’s the Vic I know and have held over the toilet many times before.” Jules looped her arm through mine. “Don’t worry. You can crash on my couch tonight, okay?”

That was where I found myself half an hour later, on Jules’s couch while she went to the kitchen for the wine. Her place was small but well situated and stylish, the complete antithesis of my ramshackle loft.

“I’ll even bring us real glasses so we can pretend we’re sophisticated,” she called over the clinking of glassware.

“Who’s pretending?” I asked.

I heard the wine start to flow, and a minute later, Jules emerged with two glasses of dark red.

“Fancy.” I took the one she offered and had a sip. “Hey, not bad.”

“I went all out.” She plopped down next to me. “Thanks for coming over, Vic. I really needed a girls’ night like this. Just drinking on the couch, talking about whatever.”

“I did too.” I took another sip, leaning my head back. “I keep thinking sooner or later, everything will pass, and life will go back to normal, but I know that’s not true. It’s nice to take a timeout once in a while. The world will still be there tomorrow.”

“Yeah. And so will the work.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” We weren’t talking about the same kind of work, but the sentiment was identical. She didn’t need to know that my latest “job” had left me with a back full of bandages.

“Wanna watch a movie? A shitty rom-com?” She moved toward her TV. “We used to fall asleep to this stuff all the time.”

The wine glass was up to my lips when it hit me. Jules’s voice sort of faded out and back in. The room began to spin, and then it began to warp in a way that made me feel nauseated.

Are you all right, Victoria? I have been careful not to interfere during your time with Jules, but you are not looking well. Too much to drink?

I hadn’t felt drunk like this since the college days we’d been talking about. My whole body wanted to fall down the black hole of sleep, despite getting plenty of rest after my stitches. I blinked, suddenly struggling to hold my eyes open.

“Vic?” Jules came close again, inspecting me with concern in her face. “What’s wrong?”

I tried to answer her, but the words wouldn’t come out. She said my name again. It was the last thing I heard before I slipped down into darkness.

The first thing I noticed when I broke back into consciousness was the pounding in my head. The second was that I was prone, my hands shackled above my head by something cold. I gave my wrists a sluggish, experimental tug, and the rattle of chains intruded on my senses. The room was still blurred, but after a few blinks, things came back into focus.

“Jules?” Her name left my throat in a croak. I could see her sitting on the other side of the room, tied up in a chair. She looked like hell. Red marks bloomed across her face. Her perfect makeup had been smeared, and her hair was a nest of tangles. What the fuck happened after I passed out?

She looked up at me and shook her head. A shadow fell over her, and she shrank back as far as she could in the chair. The man casting the shadow wore a perfectly pressed black suit. He was pale, but his presence wasn’t as powerful as either Delano or Lorcan.

“Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty,” he said to me. “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up. You have some very valuable information I’d love to know.”

“Who are you?” I cleared my throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t bother playing dumb,” he said dismissively. “I know almost everything. The only piece I’m missing is what happened at your little rendezvous with Lorcan. That’s what you’re about to tell me.” He smiled. “Why would he meet with someone like you? What did he want? He must be planning something big, yes? So big he’ll even enlist humans to help with the prep work.” He had a pair of nasty-looking pliers in his hand, which he snipped idly as he spoke.

“Piss off,” I said.

“I had a feeling you’d say that. So, I brought her along.” He seized one of Jules’s hands and descended upon her pinky finger with the pliers, gripping it between the metal pincers. Jules squealed in fear and pain, and he began to squeeze.

“Please, no,” Jules begged. “No! No!” Her voice rose in a mix of hysteria and agony. The guy might as well have torn out my heart.

“You’d be surprised how much a girl’s fingers do for her looks,” said the man. “Whether or not she has them all, I mean.” He looked down at Jules. “I think she could get by without one or two.”

“You son of a whore!” I fought my way into a sitting position, shackles clanking. “Fine. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know as long as you don’t hurt her.” The pliers moved away from Jules’s hand, but not far. I took a shaky breath. “Delano offered me the chance to parley with Lorcan. I accepted, and when I got there, he told me he wanted me to kill Mayor Inglewood. Said the mayor was ‘in his way.’ I said I wouldn’t do it. He got pissed and sent his wardogs after me. That’s it, okay? That’s everything.”

Jules stared at me with wide, frightened eyes. Her lower lip trembled. I thought she was going to cry.

Instead, she laughed.

Watching her face twist from sadness into joy was one of the strangest, most disturbing things I’d ever seen. I glanced between them, trying to work out what was happening. The man in the black suit took out a knife and cut off the ropes binding her to the chair.

“Jules?” I asked, unsure if I really wanted her to answer. Everything about this scenario felt extremely wrong. I hoped for a second I was dreaming. She threw her head back, blonde hair flying. Her body convulsed, and her eyes rolled back into her head. I strained against my restraints. “Jules!”

The lines of her figure blurred in a way that aggravated my headache. I squinted, and then she was different, by which I mean Jules was gone. Deacon sat in the chair now, looking at me with those dark, piercing eyes.

“What do you think of my party trick, Vic? It’s a real crowd pleaser.” My breath caught in my throat. His voice was the same soothing bass—almost. An unnatural undertone grated on my ear, so subtle that I might not have noticed it in anyone except Deacon. But I had that man’s dulcet tones etched into my eardrums.

This was an imposter. Some sort of shapeshifting demigod. And it was royally pissing me off.

“Cut the bullshit,” I growled. “I’m not here to play your stupid fucking games. Tell me who you are and what you want, and we can be done with it.”

Not-Deacon chuckled. “On the contrary. My games are exactly why you’re here.” He scratched his chiseled jaw. Deacon’s face blurred, and Jules reemerged. “And playing them got me all I wanted out of you.”

“Kiss my ass,” I said, glowering.

“Don’t be bitter.” The shapeshifter smiled. I felt ill. “I’m not done with you yet. You may serve some greater purpose still. In the meantime, Rupert here will watch over you. He’s a good boy.” Jules’s face went out of focus. The next instant found me staring into my own eyes, lit by a baleful spark of cruelty. The thing laughed. “Now this? This I like. Yes, I could stay in your body all day. And perhaps sometime soon, I’ll get to do just that.” The shapeshifter ran its hand over his facsimile of my face. Even though I had no idea what it really was, I couldn’t get the image of it as a man out of my head. It creeped me out. “This time tomorrow, everything will have changed, and it’s all thanks to you, Vic. How surprised do you suppose Lorcan will be to see the hitwoman he failed to hire as she grovels before him and tells him she’s changed her mind?”

“What? Why would you do that?”

My own smile seemed monstrous on its face. “How else would I get a meeting with the great self-proclaimed Lord of Darkness!”

“So you work for Lorcan,” I said. “Or what, you’re some kind of twisted groupie?”

“No, my dear. I’m the one who’s going to kill him.” Fire burned in the changeling’s eyes. “This city will be mine and mine alone. With the use of your body and your precious treasure.”

He reached out to the small table nearby and picked up the Gladius Solis. I flinched. He must have filched it while I was passed out. “Don’t,” I warned, but shackled to the wall, my words carried little threat.

A second later, the blade roared into being. Its color was dulled, but there was still force behind it. I considered trying to call it to me, but I knew it was no use. The weapon was in his control now. I couldn’t help feel a little bit betrayed.

The changeling gazed at me, full of bare triumph. “Such a glorious weapon this is. I can’t blame you for being jealous.” Tucking it away onto his belt, he gave me another little smile. “Now, you stay put. I have some things to attend to.” To his black-suited assistant, he said, “Rupert, don’t forget to feed our pet. There will be hell to pay if she dies too soon.”

The door didn’t close all the way behind the shapeshifter, and I saw him exit through what was presumably the front door, leaving Rupert and me alone. The click of the front lock engaging echoed back to us. I looked at my attendant.

“So, you know any jokes?” I asked.

He didn’t laugh, or smile, or even really look at me, and all I could imagine was ripping off these chains and ripping his fucking heart out.

Chapter Thirteen

Rupert had no sense of humor. Not even a little bit. His face appeared to be stuck, masklike, in the same flat expression no matter what words came out of his mouth. I’d started off trying to wear him down with the same tactic that had worked on Frankie the first time—flattery, sweetness, a little bit of flirting.

“You must get tired of dealing with that guy’s attitude all the time. He doesn’t seem like he appreciates all the work you do for him.”

“Work?” Rupert looked at me blandly.

“Well…” I stretched a little, pushing down the pain response as my bandages contorted. “You got a girl for him, chained her to the bed, agreed to babysit her all alone while he runs around all dressed up as her, doing God knows what. That takes an admirable amount of dedication.”

“It is my job.” His eyes slipped from my face, roaming over the floor and up the wall. “I do all tasks as Dorias has assigned. No more, no less.”

So, the creep had a name. I filed it away to ask Marcus once I figured a way out of this.

“You don’t seem like you belong here.” I tried again. “I don’t know what it is, but you’re not like the others, are you?”

Rupert shrugged. “The others are weak—too beholden to the gods. That is why I follow Dorias. He will rule this world better than any god.”

“What about you? You seem like you can handle yourself. Why not take the throne for yourself?”

He didn’t say anything at that, just kept that same stupid expression on his face.

Clearly, the friendly approach wasn’t working on him. I decided to change tacks. “Don’t you know that’s crazy talk, man? Dorias isn’t a god. He’s an Apprenti. You’re an Apprenti. You should know there’s a reason you guys are called demigods. If we’re talking battle stats, the Apprenti don’t stand a chance against the likes of Lorcan and his pals. Dorias is going down.”

Rupert stared at me placidly, saying nothing.

I continued. “It would be sheer madness for you to stay involved in this. Let me go, and then save yourself. Get your ass out of here. Find a nice town in the Midwest, meet a girl. Whatever. There’s no way things end well for you.”

Briefly, he almost appeared to be contemplating my suggestion. Then he stood and knocked me backward with a powerful fist to the jaw. My head rung from the blow.

“Bastard,” I said. “If Lorcan doesn’t tear your skin off, I’ll do it myself.”

“Strong words from such a little thing,” he said. “Now I grow weary of your company. But I will provide you sustenance before I depart.” He crossed to a small refrigerator, opened it, and removed a wrapped package, which he then brought to the bed for me. Up close, I could identify it as a fast food burger.

“Really?” I said. “That’s what you got?”

“You are welcome to leave it,” he said. “I have no investment.” After that, he turned and glided out of the room. This time, the door shut securely.

I groaned. Pulling had lengthened my shackles a bit, enough to let me sullenly unwrap and eat the burger. My hunger somewhat mollified, I threw myself into the task of breaking out of the cuffs around my wrists. I had thought maybe my new strength could help me get out, but as minutes bled into hours, I was forced to accept that it wasn’t the case.

Tired and annoyed, I slumped against the headboard and cast my eyes around the room. A jumbled assortment of furniture took up the space. On a table against the far wall, I spotted what I was looking for in a bright flash of gold.

Marcus!

But he was out of reach, naturally. The chains weren’t long enough to allow me more than my feet flat on the floor, and the floor was brutally cold. Coatless, clad only in the clothes I’d worn to meet Jules—actually Dorias—at the restaurant. I was eventually forced to awkwardly burrow under the blankets to try and stop the shivering. The light in the window changed gradually. A whole day was passing.

My mind, along with my immediate concern, turned to my friend. She was probably dead, but for now, I held on to the hope that Dorias considered the possibility that she was still of some use to him. Chained up in the bed, it seemed that hope was all I had going for me.

I didn’t know how long it took me to fall asleep, but once I was out, I slept all night. Being held captive was mentally exhausting, if not physically. While I was awake, I drove myself up the wall trying to think of how to get out. Those half-panicked thoughts started up again the moment I opened my eyes.

White morning light flooded in through the window, making the room look colder than it already was. I was eyeing the door, searching for weaknesses, when it swung open, revealing none other than the god Lorcan himself.

“I am glad I found you, girl,” he said. “Delano has pled your case and changed my heart. I am willing to offer you my deal once more. Kill the mayor, and you shall have everything you’ve ever needed and more. I will grant you and those you love safe passage through the dark times ahead.”

The little prick couldn’t fool me twice. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I shouted. “This kind of shit isn’t funny. It’s fucked up!”

Lorcan laughed and became a face I knew all too well. He even had the floppy hat pulled down over his eyes. “In my defense, it’s a little bit funny.” The image of Sam glanced at me quizzically.

“What’s your goal here?” I demanded. “Besides pissing me off.”

Another laugh. “We’ve been watching you, Miss Vic. Studying your movements, your connections, your habits. Partially so that I would be able to insinuate myself flawlessly into your life, but also because you are frankly, quite fascinating. It’s been a long time since we saw a human take on the gods this proficiently.”

I stared at him. “What’s your grudge against the gods?”

“On the contrary. I admire them, which is why I want to rule them. But they are a prejudiced lot. They have no respect for those like me. Luckily, they are easy to deceive. Once I have killed Lorcan and assumed his place, I will lead his army to victory over his siblings. Simple really.”

“It won’t work,” I scoffed. “Lorcan won’t fall for that. He’s probably already seen you coming. He’ll be waiting.”

“O, ye of little faith,” Dorias sang.

“Where’s Jules? Let me see her.”

“Sorry, my dear,” he said, not looking sorry at all. “No can do. I have an extremely important meeting to attend, so I’ll have to excuse myself. But you have my word that your friend is fine—for now. She’s a wonderful source of information regarding you.”

With that, he was gone again. The outer door shut and locked. Rupert’s measured footsteps crossed the next room. A chair scraped on the floor. Silence.

I turned my head toward the pillow and screamed my frustration. Then I took a few deep, cleansing breaths, willing myself to get control of my emotions. That damn changeling knew how to press my buttons even better than Lorcan, and he seemed to relish doing so with sadistic intensity. It was enough to set my blood at a roiling boil.

The heavy layer of quiet was broken by a banging on the door. I could hear the muffled sounds of Rupert moving around. Then he spoke. “Who is it?”

“I’ve been sent by the boss to check on the captive,” said a female voice. My heart leapt. Maya!

But Rupert was a little too savvy to fall for her basic tricks. “The captive is in no need of extra supervision,” he intoned. “You should leave.”

“I really hoped I wouldn’t have to do this,” Maya said. “And yet somehow, I don’t feel bad.” Soon after, her howl pierced the air. I tried to follow what was happening, but all I heard were the sounds of a struggle.

Then the door to my room busted open as Rupert flew through it. He bounced off the wall and hit the floor hard.

Maya lumbered into the doorway, a tower of red fur and teeth looking fit to kill a god.

But Rupert wasn’t done yet.

I watched as he pushed himself to his feet and caught a glimpse of his stupid expression. But it wasn’t on his face anymore. It was lying on the floor. I looked from the skin mask that now lay flaccid on the floor to the green snarling skin of some kind of goblin.

The real Rupert was far from calm, but there was no hint of fear. He charged forward, his massive body crashing in to Maya’s. The last thing I saw before they rolled out of sight was the Maya raining furious blows down on him.

Things thudded around the other room, and the walls shook. Then they were back in my room.

Rupert was a bloody mess and clearly desperate. He began pelting her with articles of furniture, bombarding the Were with tables, chairs, even a framed mirror. The glass splintered all over the floor.

Maya shook her head vigorously. She had him cornered now, and she knew it. He tried one more time to slide past her to no avail. She caught him in her great paws, slammed him down on the floor, and struck such a mighty blow across his face that his neck snapped from the force. I caught a glimpse of his blank eyes just before the light left them.

Then Maya stood in front of me, human once again. She grabbed a blanket off the bed and tied it around herself like a toga. “There has got to be a way to keep my clothes on,” she said as she bent over my cuffs. “Can we work on that?”

“Sure.” I grinned at her. “I’m thinking a spandex bodysuit or something.”

“Gross. Maybe I’ll just stick with bare-ass naked.”

I laughed. “You did pretty damn well on your own, though.”

She laughed nervously. “Thanks, I think.” Her eyes flicked to the spot on the floor where Rupert had met his end. “I just killed that guy.”

“Trust me, that was no human. And if you hadn’t killed him, I was gonna do my best.

“Oh.” Her hands trembled slightly as she searched his pockets for keys. Then she released me. “I think I might be a little sick.”

“Hey,” I said. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “Are you okay?”

I rubbed my wrists. “Other than some chafing, I’m fine. I think my stitches even held up.” Looking at her closely, I asked the question that had been on my mind since I heard her at the door. “How the hell did you find me here? I know I didn’t leave a note this time.”

By way of an answer, she walked over to the table where the medallion rested and picked it up, holding it out to me. “A little birdie called and told me you needed some help.” She smiled slightly. “So I helped.”

I slipped the chain over my head. “You called her?” I asked Marcus.

Yes. I have never done something like this before, but I suspect our training sessions have fostered something of a connection.

“Oh?” I gave Maya a teasing smile. “A connection, he says.”

“Don’t ask me.” She held up her hands. “I could just feel him, you know? Feel his need. Which led me here.”

“I don’t know whether to be thankful or jealous that you’re cheating on me,” I said.

Nonsense, Victoria. You will always be my favorite surly protégé. Not even Maya’s charm and zest for life could replace you.

“Um, I don’t know what he’s saying, but you don’t have to worry about that. Marcus is nice, but even if he had a body, he’s not my type.”

See? The feeling is mutual.

I laughed for the first time in two days, despite the sick worry for Jules still hanging over my head. “I owe you guys big time. Let’s get out of here before Dorias comes back.”

Dorias? The name is familiar to me.

“Well, I’ve got one hell of a story to tell. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.”

Chapter Fourteen

Finally freed from my bonds, I took a moment to survey the apartment. It was bigger than I’d expected and decked out with a strange amount of finery. It was oddly hard to leave the place behind, knowing Dorias had somehow captured Jules. I kept feeling like there must be critical clues I was missing.

Maya and I lingered in the tastefully paneled dining room. I paced back and forth, absolutely fuming.

“I can’t believe I let them get her,” I said. “When the fuck did it happen? Why didn’t I know? I should have been able to tell.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Maya said. “We’ll find her.”

I looked at her more sharply than I meant to. “How can I not be hard on myself? She’s been my best friend since high school, and I didn’t realize she’d been body-snatched by some asshole shapeshifter? What the hell is wrong with me?” The guilt crashed over me like a tsunami. If I wasn’t already so full up on anger, I might have cried. To top it all off, Dorias had my sword, because of course he did. I ran my fingers up into my hair and clenched them. “Damn it to hell.”

“Breathe, Vic,” Maya said soothingly. “I’m not trying to tell you things don’t look bad, okay? But all hope isn’t lost just yet. There’s still something we can do.” She crossed to the doorway leading into the room where Dorias-Jules and I had been kept. “Look around. Is there anything here that you know is actually hers?”

I inspected the scattered contents of the room. Among the debris, caught beneath a pile of newly broken furniture, a brightly colored silk scarf lay in the dust. Jules had gone through a phase where she’d worn that thing every day for months. I could have recognized it from a mile away. After dislodging it, I held it up for Maya to see. “This.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. When she was identifying as boho chic or whatever, you couldn’t pry this thing off her neck with a crowbar.”

Maya smirked and took it gently from me, holding it fanned out between her palms. “Okay, I’m going to do something, and I don’t want you to think it’s weird. It’ll help us get to Jules. I promise.”

“You could sacrifice ten goats at this point, and if it would help Jules, I wouldn’t blink a damned eye,” I said truthfully. For the first time in too long, my best friend was my number-one priority. I desperately needed to find her. But I had no idea what Maya was getting at. Jules could’ve been anywhere—knowing New York the way I did, the possibilities were truly daunting. A wave of despair flooded over me. “What are you going to do?”

She lifted the scarf to her nose and took a deep breath. “I can use this to track her scent. Trust me. My nose is like a billion times better than it used to be. Fringe benefits of the transformation.” She raised her chin, sniffing the air. “You’ll have to trust me, all right? I’m not bullshitting you about this.”

I was still skeptical, which I think she knew, but it wasn’t like we had many other options to choose from. “Thanks, Maya. Good luck.”

She nodded and squeezed my arm. “I’ll meet you back at the loft.” That said, she turned and headed out with the scarf in hand.

Let us depart as well, Victoria. There is no point in remaining here any longer.

I pressed my lips together. “I guess so. I’ll be able to think better at home.” Casting one last distasteful glance around the bedroom where Dorias kept me prisoner, I went through the front door, taking care not to follow too closely in Maya’s footsteps in case someone was watching. “She’s onto something, isn’t she?” I said absently to Marcus. “She must be.”

Have faith. Maya is stronger than she seems, and her gift is real.

“She seems pretty damn strong already.” Still, I told myself to follow Marcus’s advice and work on cultivating a sense of optimism as I headed back toward my loft. Things had gotten pretty dicey in the last day or so, but they weren’t irredeemable. I just hoped Maya really could find Jules, and that when she did, my friend would be okay.

I sat impatiently in my loft for ninety minutes before I started getting the smallest bit nervous. Maya’s Were senses were a mystery to me, and I wasn’t sure they were a precise, infallible science. For all I knew, tracking a scent could take all day, so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

That would have been a hell of a lot easier if I could touch base with her and get a mission update. My stomach kept doing little flips as I tried not to look at my phone.

Another hour crawled past. Nothing. All this inaction was driving me up the wall. Finally, I heaved a sigh and reached for my phone.

Do not act rashly, Victoria. Sometimes tasks require patience and diligence to complete. Let Maya work in her own way—without your distractions.

“It’s not that,” I told him. “I’m just done sitting around. Maya will do her job, and I’ve got to do mine.”

The mayor?

“Exactly. Dorias is hoping that if he kills the mayor, Lorcan will let his guard down. But as much as I’d love to see those two assholes duking it out, I can’t allow an innocent person to die. Not if I can stop it. And it’s the one place we know Dorias will try and go. If I can catch him, maybe I can force him to give up Jules.”

It is worth a try. But how are you going to accomplish that?

“With help,” I said, then hit speed dial.

“Vic?” Namiko answered on the second ring. “What’s going on?”

“A lot.” I sat down on the edge of my mattress in a vain effort to keep my legs from pacing automatically. Instead, one of my feet nervously tapped the floor. “I’ll tell you the whole story later. For now, suffice it to say it’s been a weird couple of days, and I need your help.”

“Well, of course I’ll help you if I can.” The tapping of her keyboard started up in the background. “What kind of information are you looking for?”

“It’s about the mayor. Mayor Inglewood. He’s in danger, and I need access to him. His meetings, his home address, that kind of stuff. And maybe a way to meet with him face to face. Somehow, a crazy email about how the gods are trying to kill him doesn’t sound like it will go over super well.”

“Done,” Namiko said. “Well, not done. It’s beyond my skills. But I’ll pull in some favors. Hell, they may do it just for the fun of messing with a government official—they’ll likely be tickled when I say it’s the mayor of New York. Let me make a few calls and see what I can do.”

“Really?” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Namiko. I don’t know what the hell I would do without you.”

I could hear her tiny laugh. “Neither do I. I’ll call you back in a sec, okay?”

“A sec” turned into half an hour, but there was a hint of pride in her voice when she called back. “You’ve got a meeting tomorrow. Ready to hear your cover story?”

“Oh, shit. You did it?” Despite the fact that I was the one who’d called her initially, my mind was still a little blown that she had actually managed to pull it off.

“My friend did. Said it was the easiest hack he’s pulled in a while. The mayor’s password was ‘password’. Anyways, you’re going in as Shannon Lambert, a lobbyist for a big pharma firm in Philadelphia. You want to discuss serious campaign contributions ahead of the mayor’s next upcoming election.”

“I have to warn you, I’m not the most politically aware person in the universe.” The last five years had made it hard for me to see the bigger picture in terms of stuff like that. No way would I be able to go in cold and keep my head above water.

“No worries. I’ll send you some notes as soon as we hang up. You’ve got until noon tomorrow to get ready.”

I sucked in a breath. “Okay, that’s great.” It was great, but my palms were already sweating.

“You’ll be fine. Apparently, the mayor is very excited about your meeting. Guess his campaign coffers must be running a little dry. And remember, you’re just trying to get through the door. I don’t expect you’ll be needing to chat him up on adequate provisions and tertiary details.”

“I hope the hell not.” I ran a hand through my hair. She had a point, whatever those words meant. I just needed to get through the door. “Hey, I really owe you one for this, Namiko. You have truly saved my sorry ass yet again.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she answered. “Keep these assholes from ruining the whole damn world, and I think I can consider everything more or less even.”

We said goodbye. I felt better having accomplished something. I would meet the Mayor and somehow convince him of the shit that was about to go down. But that was only part one of the plan.

Part two required help of a different kind.

Chapter Fifteen

“Deacon St. Clare.” He answered the way he always did, with an air of abstract professionalism, but this time, I could sense something else under the words. Apprehension maybe. Anticipation. He knew something big was about to drop.

“You got a minute?” I asked.

“Give me just a second,” he said in that same cool, noncommittal tone. A moment later, the sound of a door closing came through clearly. “What’s up, Vic? I didn’t get very far tracking our mystery man’s leads. I’m not that good of an agent.” That was more like the Deacon I knew, but he was still wary. Unsurprising, given my history of alarming phone calls.

“It’s not that. I need your help. Again. But first, I need you to shut up and listen to me all the way through before you say anything. Start to finish. Is that a deal?”

“Deal,” he said without hesitation.

I had to admit I was a little taken aback by the willingness with which he agreed to my terms. Not to be deterred, however, I forged ahead. “Mayor Inglewood has been targeted by the Forgotten. He’s going to be assassinated by a shapeshifter. They have the ability to take on the voice and appearance of anyone they want. They can change at will. And the mayor’s death is on their to-do list for reaching their end goals. I’ve gotten a meeting at City Hall at noon tomorrow. I need you to cover me.”

“Vic, if you’re telling the truth, and I’m choosing to believe you are, this is an incredibly serious matter of government security. Hell, we need to have men all over City Hall and the mayor himself to make sure this prick doesn’t slip through. I know you’re… unique, but you’re only one person. Maybe step back and let the Bureau take care of it.”

“No.” I heard Deacon sigh. “I have to be the one who stops the assassin.”

“You want to play hero that badly?” The words were less scornful than I would’ve expected, coming from him. He was genuinely confused and curious. “It could be a suicide mission, Vic.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Look, I’ll be honest with you. I might be the only one strong enough to stop this guy, okay? That’s not a slight against you, but you don’t know what you’re up against. Hell, I don’t even really know what I’m up against. But like you said, I’m unique. Plus, we’ve got some personal business to settle.” I paused. “He has Jules, Deacon. I can’t have this go sideways, and I know I won’t be able to do what I need to do and manage agents at the same time. So I just need you to cover me. I’ll keep the mayor safe. Then you send in the cavalry once I’m done with him.”

He was silent for a little bit after that. I held my breath, waiting.

“All right,” he said at last. “I’ll trust you. But we’re not going to be far away.”

“Good. Thank you. This means a lot to me.” I smiled. “Noon tomorrow. I’ll be there early.”

“So will we,” Deacon said. “Be safe, Vic. We’ll be watching out for you.”

Eighteen hours after that phone call, I stood on the steps of City Hall, staring up at the doors with a packet of notes from Namiko in my hand. Still no word from Maya, but I didn’t have the time or headspace to devote to worrying about that right now. She could take care of herself. The silver watch on my wrist, one of the few relics from my past that I still owned, said it was a quarter to noon.

Almost showtime.

“Are you ready, Marcus?” I asked under my breath, squaring my jaw.

As always, Victoria. I am steadfast.

“Yeah.” I exhaled. “You know what? Me too.” Steadfast was a good way to describe how I wanted to be from now on.

In this frame of mind, I began to ascend the stairs, one step at a time. I had dressed in the only set of clothes I had that might pass for professional: charcoal-grey dress pants, a white blouse that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, and a blazer I’d surreptitiously lifted from Maya’s collection. The sleeves were more like three-quarters on me, but the shoulders fit okay, and it made my disguise much more convincing. My sensible heels clicked on the concrete.

It felt like I was wearing someone else’s skin. Was this how Dorias lived? How he thrived? The thought made a shiver run down my spine.

The doors at the top of the steps opened, revealing a smartly-dressed young man who was the yuppiest yuppie I’d ever seen in my life. If not for the full suit, he could’ve been a Mormon missionary, with his perfectly cut and combed hair and his scrubbed, boyish face.

“Shannon!” He smiled expansively, holding out his hand for a good ten seconds before I reached him. “So nice to meet you. I’m Theo, Mayor Inglewood’s assistant. Please, come this way.”

I returned the smile, hoping that mine looked half as genuine. “Thank you so much for having me. I know Mayor Inglewood’s time is at a premium right now.”

The young man beamed as if he were personally responsible for filling his boss’s calendar. “That’s right. It always is.” He shook his head and forced a laugh. “But he told me personally he wouldn’t miss this meeting for the world. He and Novalin have had a mutually beneficial relationship for many years now, and you know the mayor values his long-term allies.”

“Of course. Still, I didn’t expect such a warm welcome.” In fact, it made me sort of nervous. I didn’t know how he knew me or what he was doing. Maybe he thought I was a different Shannon? I checked my watch again.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re representing a multi-billion-dollar interest to the mayor, of which he is very appreciative and protective. He personally insisted that I go out of my way to roll out the red carpet, so to speak. For as long as you’re here, you are our guest of honor.”

“That’s very flattering.” I held my papers tightly, a smile plastered permanently on my face. The sensation of being in over my head was nigh overwhelming.

We strode side by side into City Hall, and as my escort guided us toward the elevators, I snuck a peek at my notes. The name NOVALIN was emblazoned on a sheet of letterhead at the top, followed by a bunch of pharmaceutical jargon that was borderline incomprehensible to me.

Great. I stifled the urge to roll my eyes. The feeling of treading water in the deep end intensified. We couldn’t be talking about crime statistics or the state of the mob, or anything I actually knew more than nothing about. Of course I’d been saddled with a cover story that couldn’t be further from my area of expertise. It was pretty clear as I flipped through the pages, acting like I was simply reviewing talking points for the impending meeting, that I was basically winging it.

And I hoped to anyone who was listening that I’d be able to pull it off.

“I trust the company is doing well if you’re reaching out to negotiate yet another generous donation to our campaign.” The yuppie’s voice cut into my thoughts, bringing me back into reality at the same time that we stepped into a waiting elevator.

“Yes, very well.” I resisted the compulsion to peek at my notes again—I hadn’t seen anything about this being a recurring donation. “We’ve performed excellently these last three quarters, even with the, ah, tertiary details.” I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t just screwed myself.

The young politico leaned in and lowered his voice. “Political Science at Princeton and Harvard Law. I don’t know shit about pharmaceuticals.” He leaned back and forced another laugh. I joined in, more relieved than he could know.

“Yeah, well, that’s why they pay me the big bucks,” I quipped. “All you need to remember is that we’d love to be able to reach out and spread some of this hard-earned wealth in ways that will prove beneficial.”

“Noble of you,” he said, nodding. “Mayor Inglewood is a true visionary, but as you well know, nothing about politics is cheap. Our success depends on the generosity of groups like yours.” He turned to me amiably. “I assume you’ve reviewed the tenets of Mayor Inglewood’s campaign platform and found them to your liking?”

Shit. “We certainly have.” The only thing to do was double down and hope everything worked out. “I think his stance on the key issues will reap significant rewards for all parties involved.” The bullshit sat heavy on my tongue, and I prayed I wouldn’t stumble over it.

“Interesting!” The smile on his face never faltered. “That’s taking into account the promises Mr. Mayor has made to reduce funding for so-called ‘big pharma’?”

Shit! “Well… that’s why I’m here. I’m sure we can figure out an arrangement that will suit us both.” Once the words were out of my mouth, I realized they made a pretty strong implication that Mayor Inglewood was open to bribery, and I wished I could take it back.

Mind your words, Victoria. Diplomacy is key. Marcus sounded far too amused.

So even the Roman soldier from thousands of years ago noticed my possible faux pas. Not a great sign.

Fortunately, the guy didn’t seem to notice or care about any subtle improprieties. He glanced at me. “So how did someone like you get into this line of work? No offense, but I’m used to ushering stuffy middle-aged men into the office.”

“It’s a calling,” I said, mostly without thinking. “Maybe I would have been a doctor, but I’m not that well-suited for medical school.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow.

Sounding more and more impressive every minute.

“I mean, this type of work is much more my speed,” I corrected. The hot wave of a blush threatened to creep up my neck. Man, I was so bad at this. “I like to negotiate, and I think this way, I can feel like I’m affecting change on a bigger scale.” I sounded like a high school student ad-libbing their presentation, but I had no choice but to roll with it.

“That’s a fascinating way to look at it.” The kid looked actually thoughtful for a moment, as if my vague ramblings somehow managed to provoke something in his mind. “I’m sure the mayor will welcome this sort of out-of-the-box insight.”

I smiled tightly. “I hope so.”

That depends on his intelligence, quipped Marcus, being the worst cheerleader in the world. You must hope it is not too high.

The soft ding of the elevator reaching our floor rescued me from further humiliation. My companion brought me out into a wide, short hallway with the kind of carpet that silences footsteps. “This way,” he said, gesturing grandly toward a door with Kenneth Inglewood’s name stenciled on the glass. I could see the shape of the incumbent mayor standing near his desk, apparently on the phone. “You’ll have to excuse him if he’s just finishing up a phone call. What with the campaign fast approaching, he’s incredibly busy.”

“No problem at all,” I lied, dreading the possibility of having to wait. After my demonstrated inability to fake it until I make it, I really wanted this whole thing to be over with as soon as possible. Or at least, I wanted the shit to hit the fan so I’d be back in my depth again.

The young man cracked the door open just a sliver and knocked lightly, causing Mayor Inglewood to look up from his desk with an expression of slight annoyance. As soon as he saw me, the irritation cleared, and a big, photo-op smile stretched across his face. Motioning us in, he pointed to a chair on the opposite side of his desk.

I went to it. My escort took up a position off to the left. He looked like a modern butler in his carefully tailored suit, lips still upturned.

Inglewood stayed on the phone for approximately thirty more seconds. As he placed the receiver back into its cradle, he turned to me with an apologetic smile. “Very sorry about that, Miss—” He glanced down at a paper on his desk. “Miss Lambert. A public servant’s work is never done.”

“I admire your dedication to the office, sir.” Every word I spoke felt foreign in my mouth. I’d grown too used to navigating social situations via alcohol or my giant flaming sword. “Our group believes you’re a real asset to the city.”

His smile widened, showing both rows of gleaming white teeth. Inglewood had always been handsome, but in close quarters, both his image and persona smacked of artificiality. I made it my goal to try and dig beneath that shellacked surface a little, to see who the real Kenneth Inglewood was. That might explain why Lorcan wanted him out of the picture.

“Well, of course, I do my best, but I’d be nothing without my righthand man here.” He swept a hand out to indicate Theo, who simply smiled. “I trust Theo provided you with every courtesy.”

I nodded. “He was a true gentleman, sir.”

“Good, good.” Inglewood folded his hands. “No need for such formalities as ‘sir,’ by the way. I’d like for us to speak as equals.” His eyes roved over me in a way I didn’t much like. It reminded me of the way I got assessed by patrons at every shitty dive I ever went into. “Now.” He leaned forward, and I didn’t like that either. An aftershock of expensive cologne slapped me in the face. “Let’s discuss the makings of a lucrative partnership.”

Instantly, my regret over implying corruption in his office started to evaporate. He looked like a hungry animal, and his gaze told me that he smelled blood in the water. I put my internal defenses up. Inglewood was a guy who thought he could get whatever he wanted out of me.

So, I figured I’d throw out the script. “Actually, screw a lucrative partnership.”

“What?” he asked, his smile still holding.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I lied to you. I’m not here to give you money or whatever.”

“Really? Then what are you here to give me?”

“A message. You’re in danger.”

“What?” Confusion invaded his expression, and his eyes hardened. “In danger? From whom?” He paused. “Certainly not you.”

Why was that so insulting? I sighed. “No. But someone wants to kill you.”

He opened his mouth, his face a mask of disbelief, and the sound of the office door swinging open stopped the words from coming out.

We both turned as a carbon copy of Mayor Kenneth Inglewood walked into the room.

Chapter Sixteen

“What the hell?” The real Inglewood’s mouth dropped open. He was too startled by the intrusion to really grasp what he was seeing, and the dumb, blank look on his face suited him.

Dorias fed him a dose of that sharky grin. “Isn’t it obvious?” He chortled. “I’m you. The new you.”

The mayor looked at me and back at the shapeshifter. He still comprehended nothing. I pointed helpfully at Dorias. “That guy. He’s the one who wants to take you out.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Inglewood finally. “And I sure as hell don’t have time for this. I’m calling security.” He reached for the desk phone. Dorias moved so fast I only saw him as a blur for a second. When he came back into focus, he was holding a massive knife above the mayor’s frozen wrist, point down.

“Bold move,” Dorias said. “But you’re going to die regardless. I’m not sure which I admire more—your blind courage or your ignorance.”

Sweat stood out on Inglewood’s brow and upper lip. “There’s no way you’ll get away with this.”

Dorias smiled widely. “I like a challenge, Mr. Mayor.”

I had seen enough. Jumping up from my seat so that my chair clattered over backward, I forced my way in between the two men, dislodging the knife with a swift strike to the shapeshifter’s wrist.

Instinctively, he recoiled his hand.

Inglewood’s eyes caught mine. Obviously, he was surprised that the darling lobbyist from Philly just attacked his assailant. Standing between him and the shapeshifter, I said to the mayor, “Get the hell out of the way so I can take care of this filth.” I nodded toward Dorias.

The real mayor moved for the door, but I saw the aide catch him by the arm, ushering him toward a side room. Smart move, I thought. Any number of madmen could be on the other side of the office door. They’d take their chances with me.

The shapeshifter observed, amused, as Inglewood’s aide whisked him off into the small alcove. “You think you’re providing him a service, you little pest?” he asked me. His eyes, still the mayor’s, gleamed with blatant malice. “He’s doomed either way. Why not step out and let the big dogs deal with their prey?”

“Because you’re not a big dog,” I said. “You’re just a little bitch. That’s a lesson we taught your friend Rupert.”

“Yes, most unfortunate. For him and for you.” Dorias shrugged. “Perhaps I would have left you alone if I could’ve achieved my means without involving you. I believe in efficiency. But now you’ve introduced the aspect of vengeance.”

“I’m familiar with it.” I stepped up closer to him, spotting my sword hanging on his belt. He noticed, and he drew it quickly.

“Is this what you’re after?” he taunted, grinning. “Let’s see you earn it back.” The blade sprung to life, and he swung it at me almost immediately, a sloppy, downward slice. I dodged, the heat singeing my shoulder just before the blade sliced through the mayor’s desk like it was paper mâché.

The sword may recognize you if you call to it, Marcus suggested.

I tried sending out a psychic summons to the Gladius Solis. Nothing happened, except Dorias taking another swing. I rolled underneath it, and he almost lost his balance. One of his feet flailed in the air, and I took advantage of the golden opportunity. Seizing the Italian dress shoe in both hands, I shoved him into the bulwark of the desk.

He struck the edge hard. A frustrated grunt fell from his lips, but it took him almost no time to regain himself. “I see you’re a dirty fighter,” he noted disdainfully. “How unsurprising that the weapon of a fallen god ended up in the hands of someone with no honor.”

“Funny, coming from an asshole who makes his way through the world using deception,” I shot back. “How long have you been messing with me as Jules?”

“Long enough.” Dorias shrugged. “Can I help it if I like to have fun at work?” He jabbed at me with the blade, and I jumped back. “You’re nimbler than you look. It’s mildly infuriating.”

“I can’t see how your big plan was to steal Lorcan’s thunder at the last minute,” I told him. “You’re a shitty fighter.”

The swings became a little harder, a little more vicious. Dorias glared at me now. A vein throbbed along his jaw. “Now it’s you who sounds ignorant,” he hissed. “All Apprenti can fight better than any human. I was simply having fun with you.” On the last word, the sword seemed to intensify in brightness and color. A new wave of heat washed over me.

It was no fun being on the receiving end of the most powerful weapon in the universe.

Dorias tried to cut me in half, and I almost got clipped on the next few swings. They were becoming frighteningly precise, too. Almost as frightening as the fact that he really had just been toying with me, testing my resilience.

I resented everything about that. And I wanted my damn sword back.

The next time he struck out at me, I threw caution to the wind and dodged toward him, narrowly avoiding the blade’s blazing edge. Surprised, Dorias faltered in his follow-through, allowing me to hit him hard in an unguarded section of his ribs. The breath rushed out of him, and as he bent forward at the waist, his grip loosened on the hilt. It wobbled in his hands.

I grabbed on.

“No!” The word left his throat in a harsh bark. His fingers renewed their white-knuckle grasp. We grappled on either side of the hilt for what felt like a small eternity, staring into each other’s eyes over the glowing blade. While he was still winded, I sucked in the deepest breath I could muster and bore down, forcing Dorias backward. His heel struck the back wall, and he stumbled.

That was all the leverage I needed. As he lurched to catch himself, I wrenched my weapon free and swung it wide. He gasped, pressing himself back, away from the very real danger.

“Not so nice to be on this side, is it?” I asked.

In answer, he pulled his lips back in an eerily inhuman expression. The snarl that boiled behind his teeth was the sound of an animal gearing up to fight for its life. Mayor Inglewood’s face jittered then slid back into focus. He lunged forward, grabbing for my throat with one hand, the sword with the other. He got neither.

I darted backward, Gladius Solis in front of me. His anger left him even less guarded than before, for which I intended to make him pay. Swordless, he’d drawn a big-ass knife from inside his suit jacket and slashed the air like a lunatic. I dipped and weaved to the best of my ability, but he definitely sheared off a few of my split ends.

He fights with chaos, said Marcus. You must counter with order.

Sometimes, he was almost too cryptic, but I thought I understood what he meant. With a hard push, I began herding Dorias back along the wall, seeking to pin him down. He tried to out-footwork me, but the rage worked against him, and so did the form he’d chosen. His broad shoulders butted up against the wood paneling hard enough to snap his head back.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance,” he snarled at me, all composure gone from his face. “Like I did the blonde bitch.”

As he spoke, my world rocked. Jules was dead after all. The rage inside me overflowed, and I spat out my next words.

“Don’t worry. I’ll learn from your mistakes.”

He lunged at me, but I was ready for that. The sword sliced through flesh like it was nothing, and Dorias’s body dropped to the floor. Inglewood’s form shifted away, only to be replaced with another, and another, and another. I stood over the dying shapeshifter in silent, repulsed awe as he cycled through all his many forms. Faster and faster, the identities switched from one to another. Some had fangs, or scales, or nasty blue-grey skin.

When the changeling roulette stopped at last, Dorias was revealed to be an old man with flowing salt and pepper hair, clad in a long tunic that reminded me of Marcus’s. I looked down at the wizened face for an instant, its expression frozen in slack-jawed surprise. Then I turned my back and sought out the actual mayor and his aide, both of whom were tentatively emerging from the alcove.

“It’s over?” Inglewood asked anxiously.

“Don’t worry,” I told him. “I’ve saved you.”

“No,” Theo said. “You’ve just killed the mayor of New York City.” Theo brandished a knife identical to the one Dorias had used and plunged it into Inglewood’s chest.

“No!” I shouted, but it was too late. The mayor’s body shuddered once before it dropped like a stone. Theo turned to me, grinning fiendishly. His skin was rapidly losing its youthful color, bleeding into a sickly grey. His eyes misted over, and his hairline receded.

The son of a bitch was a fucking vamp.

“Damn it to hell!” I raised my sword, but he just smiled.

“Looks like the cavalry’s here. Just in time.”

Before I could blink, the glass on the office door shattered, and the sturdy oak panel splintered inward. A whole contingent of officers burst into the room, with a familiar face taking point. And the first thing Deacon saw on that scene was me with a sword in my hand, standing over the dead body of Kenneth Inglewood.

His face was frozen, a strange mix of anger and disappointment and fear.

“Deacon,” I said. My voice snapped him out of his stupor, and he raised his gun.

“Get on the floor!” he screamed at me. “Hands over your head. Now!”

“Deacon, wait.” I lowered the sword. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

But whatever goodwill I had earned evaporated in that moment. “You heard me. Get on the floor, hands in the air! I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“Deacon—”

“Don’t make me shoot you, Vic!” He hesitated. “Please don’t make me shoot you.”

Victoria, you cannot let them take you. You’re too important.

He was right. I fought down my anger, the pain of losing Jules, and the shame I felt under Deacon’s stare. I couldn’t get arrested. There was something I had to do first.

“Fine.” I swept the sword up again, flashing the blade’s brilliance directly into the officer’s faces as I backed toward the window. Only three stories up, I figured with the nectar of Carcerum, it wouldn’t kill me—most likely.

I spun the Gladius Solis and struck the pane with its golden blade. Glass rained around us, and the agents shielded their eyes. All of them except Deacon St. Clare.

Deacon shouted, “Are you insane?”

I didn’t answer. At this point, he was free to think what he wanted. I’d have time to process it later. All that mattered right now was that I got myself the hell out of there.

Chapter Seventeen

I had never considered myself lucky, but today, I caught a break for once. A thick canvas awning stretched out below the window, protecting me from the brunt of the impact.

I grunted, rolled off my landing pad, and dropped onto the concrete below.

“Hell yeah!”

As brilliant as my escape felt, I knew it was pure chance that the mayor’s office was in the back of the building. Even still, the squeal of tires coming around caught my attention, and I charged at the oncoming cop car, sword in hand. The vehicle slammed on the brakes. I vaulted up over the windshield and hopped off the trunk.

“Stop! Freeze! Police!” The shouts surrounded me, but I shrugged them off. The fugitive life didn’t bother me, not anymore. Plus, I was way more comfortable hauling ass down alleys than sitting in a posh leather chair in an office.

Would have been better without the heels, though.

The noise of the cops followed me as I ran through the backstreets, winding toward an older district of town. Someone shouted at me from an apartment window. “Hey, where’s the fire?”

I dashed through trash-clogged gutters, underneath jerry-rigged air conditioning units, and past countless unidentifiable graffiti tags. A stray cat leapt out of my path just in time to avoid getting crushed under my shoes. It hissed.

“Sorry!” I called.

The sirens continued to hound me for a bit, but they couldn’t follow me where I went, and so I listened to them start to peter off as they spread out. The architecture began to age around me. I didn’t stop until I saw a building with the old-fashioned kind of fire-escape, the system with the ladders. Taking a flying leap, I pulled one down and started to climb. On the landing, I turned a corner and kept climbing. My peripheral vision told me there weren’t any cop cars in my direct vicinity—not yet, at least.

Working my way across the face of the structure, I reached the escape on the outer edge and jumped across to the one protruding from the neighboring apartments, like some kind of urban lemur. The metal grates and ladders were loud as hell, but most tenants in these run-down places weren’t exactly the snitching type. Noise on the fire escapes was just par for the course if you already had a warrant out for your arrest.

It felt a tad exploitative, but I was in dire straits. And I didn’t think the cops would be too keen to look at the sides of old-ass buildings. So I kept shimmying my way along, eyes and ears open. A few pigeons tried to step to me for infringing on their turf, but some well-placed shooing ended that particular war.

Using my fire-escape route, I doubled back as far as I could toward downtown. It was obvious who was behind the whole mess, the master manipulator who was wise to Dorias’s schemes in the end. Lorcan. The bastard had set the whole thing up. I didn’t know why, but I knew he was to blame. For everything—even Jules’s death.

I wasn’t sure if killing him would make me feel better, but it was certainly worth a try. But to do that, I needed to be at the top of the One World Trade Center—that was where the thread ended.

But so did my sneaky climbing route, and I was forced to return to regular old pavement-pounding not too far from the Center.

Victoria, Marcus’s voice rang in my ears. I am sorry for your friend. But going against Lorcan now—it is suicide. You cannot play his game.

“I’m not playing his game,” I said. “I’m fucking flipping the board over and shoving the game pieces up his ass.”

Whether or not I had convinced him, or if he knew that it was better not to debate with me now, Marcus fell silent.

I continued creeping along like a thief toward the tower’s distinctive proud spindle. Occasionally, the whine of a siren drifted to my ears, but they appeared to have fanned out sufficiently enough that I wasn’t in immediate danger of capture, as long as I was careful.

My luck held out until I reached One World Trade Center itself. On my way toward the doors, a cop car screamed up to the curb, burning rubber as it stopped. Six more cars showed in quick succession, and I soon found myself confronted by a dozen of New York’s finest, each with a gun pointed on me.

“Freeze!” someone bellowed.

I froze. But I didn’t raise my hands. “This is going to sound trite as all hell,” I said, “but you don’t understand what’s going on here. I know how it looks. I know it’s bad. Okay? I know. But I didn’t kill him.”

They stared at me in stony silence down the barrels of their guns.

“I don’t care,” said the cop in the lead. Every gun cocked. Then every gun fired.

Time slowed down in the moments that followed. The Gladius Solis burned brightly out of the gate, arcing around in front of me. It was like when the satyr shot at me in that alley—my instincts and the sword took on a life of their own.

I spun, dropped to one knee, and shoved the blade into the ground, clear through the concrete.

“Kronin, protect me!”

By all processes of rational thought, I should have died there in the street in front of One World Trade Center. They should have found me riddled with bullets, a murder suspect on the run.

It was a damn good thing I no longer lived in a rational world. This was a world where I could survive just by trusting my sword and trusting my mission. Trusting myself to be able to get shit done.

As I plunged the sword into the ground, power surged out of it. The sword exploded with light, washing out everything around me. I ducked my head but felt nothing other than a weird, warm glow. A golden shield had erected itself around me, planted in place by the axis of the sword.

The bullets pinged harmlessly off it.

The cops stopped firing, staring in awe at the golden dome of light that covered me. I wasted no time.

Pulling the sword from the ground, I hauled ass toward the building. The shield disappeared the moment the sword was free, and the sounds of shouting and a few more gunshots followed after me.

Nothing hit, and I made it through the doors unscathed.

I slammed my hand into the elevator button, barreled into the first car that opened, and punched the button for the top floor. My heart pounded painfully in my chest, and I bent at the waist, hands on my knees, to catch my breath. Everything on my body shook like crazy. I kind of wanted to puke. Still, I was alive, and I had just done something brand new and radical.

“What the shit was that?” I wheezed to Marcus. “You saw it, right?”

Yes. You appeared to summon a shield from the sword. Remarkable. I have never seen anything like it.

“We’ll talk about it later.” I panted, wiping my hand across my brow. “No time now. Have to get ready to deal with Lorcan.”

As it turned out, there was no need to worry. I had straightened up by the time the doors opened, halfway back to the world of the living, but the expansive office space on the other side of the doors was abandoned. None of the desks remained at all—just a high-ceilinged, open space that was completely empty.

Almost.

One huge TV stood in the center of the floor, its cords winding to a cable outlet on the wall. It was showing, in a looping cycle, breaking news alerts from every conceivable news channel. The clear centerpiece of each broadcast was grainy security footage taken from somewhere inside the mayor’s office, on which I was clearly visible stabbing Mayor Inglewood up against the wall.

I knew it wasn’t really Inglewood, but no one else did.

“We’d like to advise that our broadcast will contain sensitive, graphic material tonight,” the anchors kept saying. “It has been censored, but the images are still disturbing. New York City’s entire police force is out searching for the perpetrator of this heinous crime, along with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. If you have any information regarding either the crime or a possible suspect identification, please call the tip lines at—”

“Fuck!” I shouted, unable to contain myself. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I threw the sword at the screen, and it exploded in a storm of sparks and glass. However south things had gone in the past, it was never as far south as this. I was in Antarctica, standing on the Pole, surrounded by penguins. Jules was dead. Deacon was apparently telling his men to shoot first and ask questions later. And now the chance to bring Lorcan to justice had vanished.

Faith and logic both told me there had to be a way out—after all, I’d also just survived a hail of bullets without a scratch—but immediate prospects were looking incredibly dismal.

The sound of my phone buzzing interrupted my thoughts. I grabbed for it, thinking maybe it was Deacon wanting to hash things out. It wasn’t, but the number I saw still made me feel a little better.

“Maya?”

“What the hell is happening? I just saw you on TV. They’re saying you killed the mayor.”

“Yeah, I know.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t. It’s a long story. The shapeshifter’s dead.”

“Oh. That’s not that long of a story, but I’ll let you tell me later. I found Jules.”

My heard jumped in my chest. “You found her body? Dorias told me she was dead.”

There was silence for a second and then Maya’s voice. “That bastard was a liar. Your girl is alive.”

“What?! Where is she? I need to see her.”

“I don’t think I should tell you over the phone, especially not while you’re being hunted like this. Where are you? Can you meet me somewhere?” She paused. “Somewhere stupid, preferably. Where they won’t think to look for you.”

My first instinct was to make a joke about the fire escapes, but then I realized she wouldn’t get it. “I know a place,” I said.

I gave her the location, then slipped my phone into my pocket and turned automatically back toward the elevator. “No, wait. That’s idiotic. They probably came in after me. They’ll be waiting.”

True. You will have to find some way around them.

I glanced toward the window. A repeat of my stunt in City Hall was out of the question. No amount of awnings would save my ass from a hundred-story drop. I sighed. “Guess we’re taking the stairs.”

Good. I don’t think you have gotten enough exercise today.

“Smartass,” I said, running for the stairwell. “Congratulations on your first contraction, by the way. How’s it feel to speak modern English?” Our lighthearted banter belied the gravity of the situation just enough to make me feel like the weight of the world wasn’t totally on my shoulders.

Jules was alive. I could handle anything now.

Not as good as watching you try to talk your way into City Hall.

“Yeah, remind me to thank Namiko for that.” I stepped onto the first landing and looked over the side of the stairwell, into the dizzying drop. “Okay, here we go. Next stop: Jules.”

Thusly motivated, I turned and started the descent toward ground level.

Chapter Eighteen

The last time I was in FAO Schwarz, I was a kid barely in middle school, and I thought it was the most magical place on Earth. This time, the distinctive red awning produced a wide range of mixed emotions, mostly nostalgia and sadness. If I had even half suspected that in eighteen years I’d be racing against the clock to try and save the universe from gods hellbent on destruction, it would’ve blown my little mind.

It probably would have blown my mind at any age.

The toy store was decked out early for the holidays in cheerful red and green colors, lights strung up over the towering displays. Just like I remembered, the place was jampacked with kids who had no volume control and parents who regretted walking in. The noise level inside was almost inhuman, despite the cheery, welcoming atmosphere and sheer size of the place. I could barely hear myself think as I wormed my way through the crowd.

Perfect.

As I walked, I kept my head down, just in case someone trying to push past me might have seen my face on one of those ten thousand news programs actively encouraging people to find me. Even with the baseball cap I’d grabbed and my aviators, I imagined I was still recognizable.

It wasn’t easy to orient myself inside the giant store, but the second I pinpointed the location of its superhero hub, I moved in that direction with great purpose and hoped I would be able to find Maya. People streamed by in both directions, chatting, laughing, blissfully unaware that I walked among them.

The beginning of the section I wanted was denoted via a huge cutout of a certain god of thunder, under whose massive cardboard bicep I decided to shelter while I waited to pick Maya out of the crowd. Looking wistfully up into his chiseled face, I wondered why he couldn’t have been real instead of stupid Lorcan. How infinitely more pleasant my life would be with gods like that.

There is no shortage of handsome gods, Marcus said. It simply happens that those with which you have dealt up to now leave much to be desired.

“You’re telling me,” I muttered. “Except the harpy, but I don’t know if she counts. She’s not exactly my type.”

The gods are no one’s type except their own.

Someone grabbed my arm, and I spun around, ready for a fight.

“Hey,” Maya said. “You’re a little jumpy. Not that I can blame you.” She led me around the back side of the cutout. “Here, let’s stand behind him. His washboard abs can shelter us from prying eyes.”

I snorted. Her gift of levity was much appreciated. “I was just complaining to Marcus about how out of all the possible gods in the universe, we didn’t get ones who look like him. Wouldn’t that be, like, a thousand times better?”

“Depends.” Maya gave me a look. “Is he still trying to kill us in this alternate timeline?”

I frowned. “No, but I see your point.” Then I leaned closer so she could talk more or less directly into my ear. “What do you know about Jules?”

“Well, I found where they’re keeping her,” Maya said. “She’s in this creepy old abandoned store where the windows and stuff are all boarded up. There was only a side window still open, so I couldn’t catch much, but her scent was all over the place.”

I frowned. “Then how do you know she’s alive?”

“Because of the way her captors were talking,” she said. “Vampires, all of them. I’d stake my medical license on it. And while my ears aren’t as good as the nose, I heard enough. They’re hungry—and pissed about the fact that they have to babysit her without taking a bite. Big man’s orders.”

“Thank Kronin,” I said. “How many were there?”

“Kind of a lot, actually.” She looked up and to the left as she recalled the memory. “At least eight. Maybe as many as ten. They were all dressed pretty much the same, and I think they were mostly men, if not all of them.”

I tried not to think about that too hard. “Did you see anything on the inside?”

She shook her head. “They had an access door, but I was too chicken to make my way in. I’m not nearly as strong as you, and I don’t have a super-sweet sword. In Were mode, I’m pretty damn strong, but I can’t fully trust myself yet not to lose control, and I didn’t want to risk her getting hurt. It’s weird coming from a Were, but I’ll always rather be safe than sorry.” She fidgeted slightly. “Hopefully someday, I’ll be better at this and can actually help in a meaningful way.”

“What are you talking about?” I touched her shoulder. “You’ve already helped me like crazy. Who was the one who busted me out of that apartment the other day? I saw that whole fight from where I was sitting. You kicked some serious ass.”

Maya laughed sheepishly. “I was just doing what had to be done.” She glanced at me, worried. “Speaking of, what are we going to do now? I wish I had more details to give you, but I can say it didn’t look very good.”

“The only thing I can do. I’m gonna rescue her.” I peered around the edge of the cardboard cutout’s shoulder, as if I could really glean anything at all from the massive, formless crowds. “Give me the address. Then head back to the loft.” The fact that my best friend had been compromised and possibly hurt because of me filled me up with an unrelenting rage. I wasn’t sure who yet, but someone was going to pay for this.

“I’ll just take you there,” Maya said. “Come on. Let’s go while you’ve still got your freedom.”

I hesitated. “I don’t know if you should come. It’s going to get hot, real hot.”

Maya shook her head. “I appreciate that. Really. But this isn’t something you can just run into by yourself. And you don’t want to waste all that training you put me through. Or did you already forget that I almost kicked your ass a few days ago?”

I paused, looking around the toy store. “You have a point, but there’s something I haven’t told you.”

“Oh, yeah,” Maya whispered. “What’s that?”

“I was hardly trying.” We exchanged smiles, and I could feel an ounce of tension leave my shoulders. “All right, let’s go be heroes and make Thor proud.”

Leaving FAO Schwarz, I followed Maya through the bustling crowd of midtown. Thankfully, I was hidden in plain sight. Once out on Fifth Avenue, Maya hailed a cab. I hopped in, keeping my head low so the visor of the Mets hat covered my eyes. I wanted to hear everything, but wisdom told me to keep my trap shut for the duration of the ride into Brooklyn. The cab slowed, and Maya dropped the driver some cash, telling him to keep the change.

The faded sign above the boarded-up shop window proclaimed the building to be a music store, but it was clearly not that anymore. Even the boards were old and stained, some of them warping from exposure.

I cased the place as thoroughly as I could without arousing immediate suspicion. Maya’s initial observation had been more or less accurate—the only way to look in was through a small window on the side, through which I could see almost nothing.

“I think a lot of them must have left,” Maya whispered. “There’s way less ambient noise in there now. You want to take our chances with it? This might be the best-case scenario right here.”

“Okay.” I was already palming the heavy hilt of my sword, eyeing the spot where the Gladius Solis could slice away a clean section of the pane. The glass fell in, sending a crash through the silence. “So much for stealth.”

But we went in anyway, climbing through the glass-studded frame. As it turned out, the space inside was so open and yet so small that stealth would have been nearly impossible without the use of some serious god-magic. Neither of us had that kind of power, so we found ourselves face to face with a bunch of vamps just hanging out together behind the boarded windows.

A single chair occupied the room directly in front of the main display area. Pieces of rope and tape hung off the sides and the back, but it was empty. I knew in my heart that she had been kept there the same way I thought she’d been kept in Dorias’s apartment with me. Only now, I knew her ordeal had been much longer and likely more terrifying than I anticipated.

“Well, well, well.” A gap-toothed vamp moved toward me, grinning. He was greasy and pale, hanks of lank black hair hanging over his face. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

I glared daggers into his smug, sallow countenance. “What did you do with her?” The Gladius Solis stood at attention in my hands. I was already dropping into a fighting stance.

“Who?” The rat bastard played dumb, but he glanced knowingly at the chair as he spoke. “You mean the blonde chick? You just missed her.” His smirk turned cruel. “She was a tasty little treat. Almost too bad the boss made us keep her alive.”

“Where is she?” I willed my body not to tremble with rage.

“Let me guess,” he said. “If I tell you, you won’t kill me. That’s not the kind of deal I’m into. You get a lot more bargaining power when you’re harder to kill.”

“Fine by me,” I said. “Let’s do this the old-fashioned way.”

Chapter Nineteen

Right on cue, Maya’s howl pierced the air, drawing the attention of several vamps. They descended on her, flocking behind me to neutralize the new and unknown threat. Undaunted, she grabbed the first oncoming vamp she saw and threw him across the room. His body cracked into the far wall and fell to the floor, unmoving.

“Would you look at that?” I observed. “I guess there’s more than one way to kill you guys, isn’t there?” I didn’t turn to look at Maya, but I could hear her wreaking all kinds of havoc with that absurdly long Were reach. My vamp stared transfixed over my shoulder, brushing a lock of his gross hair out of his face. I thought he was impressed, maybe even afraid.

Then he laughed.

“That thing is your backup? This is going to be even easier than I thought. The boss warned us you might be coming and that you’d have that overrated toy sword. Didn’t say anything about a mangy bitch to go with it.”

I scowled. “She’s making pretty short work of your buddies from the sounds of it.” I hazarded a quick glance over my shoulder and saw Maya flinging vampires around like Mardi Gras beads. “I can’t exactly say I’m intimidated.”

He laughed some more, his sharp face twisting with amusement. “That doesn’t mean shit. After we lost so many men hunting down that idiot out west, Lorcan had to make more. So a lot of these guys are young blood. Fresh meat, if you will. They’re gonna get cut like grass under that sword of yours.”

“And what makes you think you won’t?” I asked him. My blade blazed to life. “This sword doesn’t discriminate.”

The smile on his face morphed into something grotesque. “Simple. I’m an OG, baby. The very first batch. There aren’t many of us left, but I’ve been biding my time. Waiting for my moment. Looks like it’s finally here.”

A snappy reply was on the way out of my mouth when he began to change for real. The greasy hair peeled away to reveal yet another bald, skeletal pate. His eyes sank inward, becoming like glowing embers in two dark pits. Every inch of excess flesh shriveled up and disappeared until I was practically staring into the gaping maw of death itself. The vamp coiled down and sprang at me, teeth gnashing.

It was ugly as sin.

I backed up and swung my sword in a wide, gleaming arc that struck a mangled rib from my opponent’s ribcage. He reeled back, hissing. The fangs in his mouth dripped with something that could have been regular old drool as easily as it could be poison.

Maya hurled another body so furiously that it came crashing into our fighting space, putting it between me and my opponent. He snatched the body up in his bony talons and threw it at me himself before rushing headlong at me. I dodged the corpse and slammed the flat of my blade against his grasping hands. At first, nothing happened. But I bore my weight down, and a thin line of smoke rose from the surface of bone against fiery gold.

“Give up,” I demanded. “Tell me where she is. What the hell do you want with her?”

Those baleful, gleaming eyes betrayed nothing but hatred in the depths of their sockets. No pain, no fear, no remorse. Just an innate desire to destroy all that opposed him, even as his bones crumbled beneath the might of Kronin’s sword.

“Where is Jules?” I shouted. “Where did you send her? You must know Dorias is dead by now. I killed him!”

The vampire sneered. “Dorias was weak and vain, a fool who thought he could exploit the most powerful among us. He paid the price for his hubris, and so will you.”

“You don’t need her anymore!” I said desperately. “Give her back to me!” As I readied my sword for another strike, I had the wind knocked out of me from behind.

A pair of arms fastened themselves around my neck. I grabbed them and lunged forward, flipping the rest of the attacker’s body down in front of me. He snatched for my hair and came perilously close to scalping me, but I snapped my head up just in time. “Maya! Can you give me a hand?”

Half a second later, Were-Maya came barreling into the fight like a wolf in a china shop. She bypassed the vamp that had tried to tackle me and went straight for the skeletal monstrosity, hitting it with a full-body tackle. They went down in a heap of bones and claws and teeth on the bare floor. Whatever inhibitions she’d had about lethal fighting before seemed to be completely gone; she tore into him with wild abandon.

Then again, she cared about living creatures, not the undead.

The old vamp was strong, but he lacked the vigor of a newly minted werewolf. Maya effectively dismantled him piece by piece. It would have been a grotesque spectacle if all his flesh and blood hadn’t already withered away. She was basically disassembling a mummy without its wrappings.

I wanted to ask him about Jules one last time, but Maya had disconnected his head before I got a chance. So, I turned to the guy who had flung himself onto my back, and I knelt on his chest until he coughed. “Where the fuck is the girl you were holding here? What happened to her?”

In response, the vamp spit sourly into my face. Anger momentarily clouded all my senses, and I clocked him hard across the face with the hilt of the sword. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of his mouth.

“One more chance,” I growled. “Tell me what you know about Jules.”

“Jewels?” He narrowed his eyes. “I got two of ‘em if you wanna see.” Gritting his teeth, he tried to flip me over, but all he got for his efforts was a crack in his sternum.

I left him there wheezing and met Maya as she walked away from the heap of ashes that used to be a vamp. She slipped back into human form as she approached me, a talent she’d been practicing during training.

“I won’t lie,” she said, shaking out her curly hair. “As much as fighting still skeeves me out, it’s really cathartic in a way.” She looked past me. “What’s with him?”

“He’s busted up. None of these assholes would tell me anything about how to find Jules.” I spoke flatly. Usually, I tried to be a little more upbeat for Maya, no matter the circumstances, but I felt too worried and guilty to put on a brave face.

Maya stood over the vamp on the floor, inspecting him with a critical eye. “One of the things we learned in vet school,” she said, “is that sometimes, the humane thing to do is put beasts out of their misery.” Her eyes flicked to me. “I’m just saying.”

Hmm. Perhaps the doctor has a warrior’s spirit after all.

I stepped over piles of crumbled vamp dust on my way out of the store. Just before I followed Maya out the way we came in, I gave the place one last onceover, just in case there was something we’d missed. Part of me hoped I would see another silk scarf, a button from Jules’s shirt, anything to let me know she really had been there. But the place had been swept clean.

Lorcan might have been a terrible recruiter, but his clean-up team was on point.

“Prick.” My feet hit the ground outside, and I paused for a second to breathe in the relatively fresh, cold air. Looking up at the sky, I wondered what the hell we were going to do.

Maya had her nose in the wind. She shook her head, looking distressed. “I’m sorry, Vic. I should have—”

“No, it’s not your fault.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, my mind spinning. “There’s got to be something we can do. I need to figure out where Lorcan screwed off to. If she’s alive, he’ll know where she is.”

We started to walk in the direction of home slowly, each of us lost in our thoughts. I almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to us from around the next corner.

“Psst! Hey! Over here!”

Maya picked her head up. “Is that guy talking to us?” She nodded toward the side of a shuttered liquor store, and I recognized the lumbering form immediately. He beckoned us closer.

“Frank?” Looking both ways for witnesses, I jogged over to him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Just doing my part,” he said, puffing out his chest. “Now listen, I’ve got a tip from the grapevine. Figured I’d send it your way—before you came looking for it. You remember that place in the Meatpacking District that you went and blew up or whatever? Well, the vamps are all moved in again, and I hear the head honcho is there now, too. Had to give up his swanky digs downtown. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

I folded my arms. “You’re not the only one I knock around from time to time. You’re positive about this? A hundred percent?”

“My information ain’t never off the mark.” He raised his hands. “And wait, there’s more. I heard they got something down there they think is gonna bait you into showing up. Or, someone, I should say.”

“What?” I went on red alert.

“Yeah. Word is there’s some lady down there, a real piece of work. All I know is, she’s blonde and they nabbed her a while back.”

I nodded grimly. As I suspected, Lorcan was going to use Jules as bait. He wanted me to confront him.

And foolish or not, I was happy to oblige.

As I turned to grab Maya and head out, I glanced over my shoulder at Frank one more time. “Why are you doing this for me, Frank? I’m not an idiot. I know we’re not friends.”

“Well…” He shifted his considerable weight. “Maybe it ain’t about you, kid. You ever think of that? This ain’t just your city. It’s mine too. Been for a long time now. And I know for a fact these guys aren’t trying to make it better.” He frowned, not meeting my gaze. “I’m not gonna give it up without a fight.”

I was silent—genuinely silent. Then I said, “Thanks, Frankie. I owe you one.”

His frown deepened. He tipped his hat like a detective from some old black and white movie. “Get out of here,” he muttered. “I don’t know how much time you got, or what they’re planning to do with that broad if you don’t save her.”

“Do me a favor,” I told him. “Keep your head down. I have a feeling this trouble’s about to get real serious.”

Frankie gave me a tight smile. “You and me both.” Again, he waved us off. “Now scram.”

Chapter Twenty

We made our way back to the loft to regroup and plan the next move. Maya seemed exhausted from her latest transformation and went to clean herself up while I stepped out into the hall. There was a phone call I needed to make—no matter how much I was dreading it.

My normal phone was in my hand, but at the last minute, I remembered and pulled out the burner Deacon had given me. That simplified things a little—his was the only contact on it, which meant I couldn’t waste time stalling and pretending to be distracted. I knew he’d probably have some choice words for me, and maybe in some ways, I deserved them.

But it couldn’t be helped. We’d ended on a bad note, with me “killing” the mayor and all, and I didn’t want to leave things that way before going to face Lorcan. The enormity of the situation loomed in front of me. I was feeling invincible and smaller than ever at the same time.

I started to pace as I held the phone to my ear, gripping it tightly. It seemed like years before Deacon answered, and when he finally did, his voice was blank, totally inscrutable. “Yeah.”

“Hey,” I said. “It’s me.”

He was silent for a moment that felt like an hour. Finally, I had to break the tension.

“I know you’re pissed. I can’t blame you, Deacon, but I can’t stop, either. You’ve gotten a little taste of this, but you only know a fraction of what’s real, okay? It’s like I said before: you have to trust me. Just trust me. I wouldn’t do shit like this if I didn’t have a damn good reason. And I didn’t kill the mayor.”

“Are you kidding me? I saw the footage. Everyone’s seen the footage. That sure as hell looks like Inglewood to me, and it looks like you on the other end of that knife. Hell, I walked in just after you did the deed. I really need some answers, Vic. I want to help you.”

“If you want to help me, then you’re just going to have to trust me,” I repeated. At this point, the sentiment probably sounded no better than a broken record, but it was the only ammunition I had. Even if I had the time to explain everything to Deacon in detail, I wasn’t about to have him tag along to my showdown with Lorcan. Plus, he was an agent of the Bureau already. How much could he end up compromising by choosing to dig too deep into the Forgotten?

His smooth voice had gained a subtle edge of frustration. “I thought this was going to be a partnership, Vic. One of those things where we work together. But I’m still constantly feeling like I’ve been left in the dark about a lot of very important things, like the fact that you had a knife in the mayor’s office.”

I chewed my lip. “I didn’t when I went in there.”

Deacon hesitated. “You know what? I don’t think I even want to know.” There was a long moment of silence. “Why don’t you just come in? Do it on your own terms. I’ll pick you up. We can talk it through.”

I should have expected him to try this tactic, but it still stung. The boundaries of our relationship shifted with every word he spoke, from more or less equals, to an officer and a criminal. Yet another thing for which I couldn’t blame him—he was only trying to do his job as well as he knew how. But it said to me that he still didn’t really understand the situation at its core. Nor did he understand me as a person if he thought that was going to work.

“No,” I told him. “I get where you’re coming from and that you’re trying to look out for me, but that’s not something I can do. I have to be free for as long as it takes for me to finish this.”

“I hope you can finish it quickly,” he answered. “Because everyone’s on to you. I’m not sure how long you thought you could pull this off, but time’s almost up. That’s why I’m giving you a way out. Come in now, and you’ll have a lot more options. I’ll be here. We can take as long as we want to work things out.”

“I’m sorry, Deacon. I can’t. This is too important.”

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you soon anyway.” Another heavy pause. “Good luck with whatever it is you’re trying to do. I hope you get it done before we come get you. I don’t think you’ll have another chance for a long time. If ever.”

I stiffened. That was as close as he had ever come to a genuine threat, and although he had a right to be pissed, it felt uncalled for. But it also solidified the fact that I might have been reaching the end of the line, heading down a dead-end street. As long as the world remained reasonably civilized around me, I couldn’t keep committing crimes at will and expect not to get caught and locked up. Didn’t matter if my definition of a crime had changed a whole lot in the past few weeks.

I had a different perspective.

“Thanks, I guess.” I gave him a wry smile that he couldn’t see. “I’ve gotta go. There’s some stuff I need to take care of.”

“Be careful, Vic. I fully expect to bring you in alive.”

I was smiling for real as I hung up the phone. We were adversaries again, but he didn’t have to say that. It was a weirdly pleasant feeling to know that the enemy cared.

How are you feeling, Victoria?

“I don’t know.” I rested my head against the wall. “Like, this shit sucks like crazy, right? And I really wish the thing in the mayor’s office had ended a different way. But at the same time, I know what I have to do, and that’s reassuring in a way. None of the aftermath matters as much as kicking Lorcan’s shit in and saving Jules. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

A commendable decision. I will be with you the whole way.

“Actually… you won’t be.” I opened the apartment door and peeked in to see Maya asleep on the couch, wrapped in every blanket I owned. The exhaustion was etched deeply into her face. She didn’t even budge as I made my way in.

That was good. It would make this next part a little easier.

What do you mean?

“I mean Deacon’s right, Marcus. The net’s closing in. I can’t just run from the law forever. And right now, they think I killed the mayor of New York. They’ll stop at nothing to find and catch me.” I glanced out the window at the distant downtown skyline. “My luck could still hold out, but maybe this will be my last stand. I figure I can at least take Lorcan down before they haul me off to prison or take me down in the street. Let’s be honest. Most of those cops are intending to place me in cuffs, right? I just need to get to Lorcan first. One less god is one less.”

I am still only partially understanding.

I tapped my finger on the medallion. “If I get arrested, you can bet they’ll confiscate this. And then what? You spend however long in a box in some storage room? You have to stay on the outside and hold down the fort, my friend. Which means I have to leave you here, with Maya.”

Ah. He sounded informed but not particularly happy. This is an understandable concern, but I have no reason to believe you will not fully prevail, as always. Perhaps you are overcautious in your preparations for theoretical circumstances.

“I wish. But I don’t think so this time. Look, jail isn’t the end of the world, but we’d be screwed if I lost this medallion. So, the best thing for you to do is stay with Maya until we know for sure how things are going to go down.”

I will worry for you.

I chuckled grimly. “I’ll be all right. You trained me, didn’t you?”

I have done my best.

“Your best is a pretty damn good job.” I found a piece of scrap paper, sat down at the table with that and a pen, and tried to think of what to tell Maya. It seemed like she knew, at least on the surface, what I was facing if I went to the slaughterhouse, and I took that as an excuse not to spell it out directly. I’d never been one for either serious dramatics or really sappy stuff.

Still, I wanted her to know how much I valued her help and her companionship, the microcosm of it that I got to experience. When I went to Washington for the sake of hunting down Namiko’s lead, the last thing I expected to come home with was a friend. And yet, here we were. She was dead asleep on my couch, and I was getting a little choked up as I searched for the right words to say.

Maya—

I’m sorry not to wake you, but I’m leaving, and it’s possible I’ll be gone for a while. Like, maybe a long, long while. I’m facing Lorcan alone, and win or lose, there’s no way I can hold off the cops. So I wanted to take the opportunity to let you know how rad you are and how nice it’s been to share this junky old loft for a little bit. Take care of the place for me, will you? And take care of Marcus. I’m leaving him with you. I hope I’ll get to come back, but if I don’t, you two will need each other. And so will the rest of the world.

Thank you for fighting. Thank you for staying. Thanks for being my friend.

Vic

My letter finished, I folded it up and left it on the table, inking her name on the outside. She’d see it whenever she woke up, but a part of me hoped that she wouldn’t be awake for a while. It would be better if there was some distance between us first.

Or maybe that was just me.

I put my hands on the chain around my neck. “Okay, buddy. I guess this is it.”

For now.

“Your optimism never fails to impress me.” I smiled. “Goodbye, Marcus. Thank you for everything. I would have been lost without you, in every sense of the word.”

Nonsense. And you are not lost now. I will see you very soon.

“Watch out for Maya. Go easy on her. She’s not a tough old bitch like me. Not yet, anyway.”

We will wait for your return together.

“Or you can save me a spot in there with you.” I squeezed the medallion tightly against my palm. “Technically, you’re not my ancestor, so we should be able to use that loophole to look after Maya, right?”

There will be no need for it. I promise you.

I didn’t say anything else as I lifted the chain over my head. There were no more words left, other than the goodbye I’d already said. The medallion settled beside the letter on the table, and I looked at them, then at Maya, still sleeping soundly in her blanket burrito.

How final it seemed. I’d like to say it was easy to turn my back and walk out the apartment door, to pull it shut behind me and hear the lock engaging.

I’d like to say that, but I’d be lying.

Chapter Twenty-One

The route to the slaughterhouse was a surreal flashback to the beginning, when I had absolutely no clue of the depth of the rabbit hole I’d fallen into. The last time I rode the bus to the edge of the Meatpacking District, I had still been consumed by thoughts of Rocco Durant, who would soon be dead by my hand.

I had a feeling Lorcan wouldn’t go down so easily.

The bus let me out on a corner, and I started to walk down a stretch of sidewalk that looked more desolate than it had before. Up ahead was the trendy café and the bodega where I hid from the eyes of Rocco’s guards, but they might as well have belonged to a whole other realm. That was the day I saw Delano for the first time, the day Marcus had come to drag my ass back home before I screwed everything up beyond recognition.

Marcus had been alive not so long ago. “Man,” I whispered. “How could things have changed so fast?”

My whisper was drowned out by the purr of a nice car pulling up alongside the curb. I purposely kept my gaze averted until I realized it was keeping effortless pace with me, its tinted black windows impenetrable to the naked eye. As I finally turned to glance at it, one of the back panes rolled down.

“Hello, Vic,” said the man smoking a hand-rolled cigarette in the back seat. “Get in.”

My first instinct was panic, but it was quickly overridden by the innate knowledge that I couldn’t disobey this guy. He operated on a level I still struggled to comprehend, and he knew more about the Forgotten than anyone I’d ever met. He also had a direct line to Deacon. That alone gave him more leverage than most, as much as I hated to admit it. I stepped toward the curb, and the Lincoln slid to a stop.

The inside of the town car was dim, and it smelled equally of newness and smoke from the man’s cig. He had his hat on too, pulled down low to cast a shadow over his eyes. Now I saw he had a glass in one gloved hand, and he was swirling an amber liquid with rocks. Scotch? Bourbon? Either way, it smelled pretty strong.

“Did you know I’d be here?” I asked. “Or were you just passing through?”

“I never do anything unintentionally,” the man said. “I sensed that you were in need, and I have come to offer something that might bolster you as you go on to confront your fate.”

“Thanks, but I’m a little beyond needing liquid courage these days.”

“Oh, I know. You have courage enough for ten heroes.”

I smiled despite myself. “Well since you know so much, you know I have somewhere to be,” I said. Maybe I was being a little too acerbic, but I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with his games. If he had some new intel, that was all I wanted.

“Yes,” he said. “You are heading into the darkness. And it seems you are doing it alone.”

I rubbed my face. “If you’re going to try and talk me into coming in with you, don’t bother. Deacon already tried that. It didn’t work for him, and it won’t work for you.”

A smile entered the man’s voice. “He would try that, wouldn’t he? On the contrary, I want to hand you a pearl of wisdom, which is as follows: we are all ‘good,’ those of us who fight on the side against the gods. But not all of the ‘good’ ones can work in the light, so to speak. There are many necessary courses of action for which the book does not allow. Eliminating a shapeshifter in the guise of an elected official, for instance.”

“So, you know about that,” I said.

“Naturally. I have lived it myself, after all. Perhaps not that exact scenario, but one like it enough that I understand its intricate nuances. Decisions must be made in a fraction of a second that affect the whole remainder of your life.”

“Yeah. And I know I made the right one, but no one else sees it that way.”

“As long as you know, that’s what matters.” He took a sip from his drink.

“Even if I have to spend my life in jail because of it?”

“You’ll be lucky if you end up in jail. The odds are much more likely that you’ll be taken down by the Bureau or the Forgotten. I suspect you know this already. It is the price we all pay for agreeing to be heroes. But I wanted to give you some peace of mind—we will not forget your deeds.”

I examined him as thoroughly as I could in the dim light. “Can I ask you something now? Who’s we? Are there more people who know about this?”

“More than you think. But it does not seem wise to discuss it now. Let us talk after your victory.”

“Oh, so you’re motivational, too?”

The man signaled to his driver, who made a turn and slowed down. I noticed we were back on the street where they picked me up in almost exactly the same spot. “Call it faith, motivation, whatever you want,” he said. “The conclusion is the same. Should you live to see another fight, your strength will be a crucial addition to the cause, and we will inevitably meet again.” The door locks disengaged. He raised his glass slightly. “Mult noroc.” I lifted my brow. “It means good luck in an old tongue.”

I stepped onto the sidewalk and heard the window open again. “One more piece of advice.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” I said.

“Lorcan’s power has mainly been in perception. But perhaps he’s bought into his own lie. Don’t you believe it too.”

And with a nod, the black car purred off into the distance. I didn’t know what to think. Most of me hadn’t expected to hear from or see that guy ever again after the meeting in Central Park, so his reappearance left my head spinning. It wasn’t the best mindset to be in on my way to see Lorcan, so I shoved the whole encounter down to be dealt with later. Right now, I had to keep my eyes on the prize.

And the prize was one dead god.

The slaughterhouse’s rough, boxy façade rose up along the street, looking much the same as it had the first time I’d infiltrated it. I crossed to the opposite side of the road to try and get a good look at it on my first pass. The broken windows had been fixed and so had all the doors. They looked new now, no doubt adorned with the latest security trappings. From my vantage point, I could see cameras stationed every few feet along the front and sides, all the way up to the roof.

Clearly, Lorcan had learned from his underlings’ mistakes.

I slipped my hand onto my belt and felt for the hilt in its sheath. My neck felt naked without Marcus. A deep, stabilizing breath chased the worries out of my brain, at least for the time being.

“You and me,” I said to the sword. “Come on. Let’s do this.”

But something felt distinctly off as I stalked toward the building, my body angled low toward the old familiar garbage alley. If Lorcan was really here in the flesh, shouldn’t he have come with a pretty impressive security detail? My hand strayed to my neck, half waiting for Marcus to offer an answer, but of course, he couldn’t. The medallion wasn’t there, and neither was my friend.

Maybe Lorcan thought he didn’t need extra security, what with the whole “being a god” thing. After tonight, he’d change his mind—assuming he was still alive.

The alley on the left still reeked of trash, and flies still buzzed around the row of open dumpsters. “Good to know some things don’t change,” I muttered, flattening myself against the wall.

The stench was powerful, but it was actually not a bad thing to have on my side for the time being. The odds of a smelly dumpster haven being thoroughly monitored were in my favor. I crouched low to the ground, listening around the corner for voices, radio chatter, doors or windows opening and closing. Any signs of life really.

I heard none. “That’s not right.”

Either Frank’s information was bad, or I was missing something, and for some reason, I was much more willing to bet on the former. The place just gave me an eerie sensation. I slid closer, craning my neck around the corner. The doors stood silent and apparently unguarded except for the eyes of the cameras.

I pulled back to weigh my options. Throwing caution to the wind and booking it was always on the table, but in all likelihood, the doors were locked and all I’d get for my efforts was an ambush of enemies. I could try to take out the cameras first and proceed from there, but some were probably hidden, and I had no idea what would happen if they had motion sensors rigged to an alarm or something. Again, probably asking for an ambush.

Not that I couldn’t handle a rush of opponents. One of the major things I’d learned from Kronin’s weapon was that a big-ass sword did pretty damn well against multiple opponents. So that plan was still an option.

Considering that, I moved subconsciously to a crouching position. Down low, away from the open tops of the dumpsters, the flies buzzing in my ear weren’t quite so loud. Instead, I heard the soft scuff of shoes on the dirty concrete.

I froze and held my breath. Another scuff. Taking a peek would involve peeling myself off the wall and potentially exposing my body as a target, so I opted to stay where I was and just keep my ears open. At first, I thought it was only one pair of feet, but then another gait developed behind the first, and another. These assholes always had to travel in packs.

Working slowly and quietly, I eased the Gladius Solis off my belt, holding it in my lap. I could sense the energy of the blade somewhere inside, humming with anticipation, waiting for my call. It warmed gradually under my hand. I traced its ornate decoration with my thumb, a habit I’d developed over the past months.

The vampires came closer. I heard them breathing, and I thought for sure they were going to stop and find me, but they just kept going toward the open end of the alley. As they passed me in a line, I noticed that the one closest to me lagged behind a little bit and that the side of his left foot dragged on the ground.

Like a wounded gazelle on the Serengeti. How he’d been injured, I didn’t care. It was enough that he was slower. He’d be easier to take down in a flash. If I was lucky, his death would stun his friends, and then they wouldn’t bother me for longer than a couple minutes.

I pounced once his back was completely turned, bracing the edge of my sword against his throat. He gasped. “What the f—”

“Hey, Manny, shut up,” said one of the guys in front, without even turning around. “We already told ya, we’ll kill you if you keep whining. You’re nuts if you think the bosses will care that your ass is missing.”

Manny made a truly pitiful choking sound, fighting to get air in his lungs. His bum leg collapsed under our combined weight, and during our short fall to the earth, I adjusted my chokehold for maximum effectiveness. He stared up at me with glassy, uncomprehending eyes, his lips turning blue.

“Manny, for Pete—” The douchebag finally realized Manny’s footsteps had stopped, and he turned around. “Hey! That’s our punching bag!” He drew his gun. “Back off, lady. I ain’t afraid to kill ya.”

I let go of poor, half-dead Manny and regained my feet in a single smooth motion, showing off the golden blade as I did so.

“You want to try?” I asked. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

The third vamp’s jaw dropped when he laid eyes on the sword. “I thought he was kidding about the sword.” He looked at his one remaining functional cohort. “Forget about Manny. It’s all about that sword now. That’s the one the boss wants.”

“The Gladius Solis?” His accent twisted the Latin so strongly, I resisted the urge to wince. “Guess it could be. Better safe than sorry, right?” He came at me suddenly, swiping at the blade of the sword, and ended up with a deep gash across his palm. “Ah, you lowdown bitch!” Fangs filled his mouth to bursting, jutting out over his bottom lip. His eyes turned jaundiced and bulbous.

“That transition gets more disgusting every time,” I remarked. “Is there a version of you guys that doesn’t turn out looking like a late stage meth head?”

He hissed like a feral cat. “Shut up and hand it over!”

I raised the hilt like a baseball bat poised for a home run. “Not on your life. Or mine, for that matter. You want it? You’re gonna have to come take it.”

Now he laughed. “You want to fight me? You broads are even dumber than you look.” He wiped a glistening thread of saliva out of the corner of his mouth. “But who am I to deny a woman what she wants, huh?”

I smirked back at him. “Who, indeed?”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The vamp’s long, ragged nails tore into the front of my shirt, leaving us awkwardly entangled from the get-go. I wedged the sword hilt between my chest and his arm and shoved backward with all my might. The motion dislodged him pretty effectively, but it also ripped a giant gap across my collarbone, exposing my throat.

He chuckled lecherously. “I wish everyone who tried to kill me was as sweet a piece of work as you, honey.”

“And I wish you died as fast as all the other vampires I’ve killed.”

He guffawed. “She’s funny, too! It’s almost a shame I’m gonna have to bleed you dry.” He glanced at his buddy. “You think Lorcan would take her alive? He’s still looking for hosts, ain’t he?”

The buddy shrugged. “He only ever talked about the sword. Didn’t say nothin’ about the girl who had it.”

“Well, maybe we oughta keep her for ourselves, then.” The vamp’s sickly yellow eyes raked over my body. “Come closer so I can do some more work on that shirt.”

Ugh. The bile rose in the back of my throat. I was more resolved than ever to find a way into the slaughterhouse, if only to interact with anyone other than these creeps. Behind me, Manny still lay prone on the pavement, flopping and gasping like a fish out of water. The other two didn’t even seem to register his presence anymore.

“Here’s a Plan B.” I squared myself up into fighting stance. “You get the fuck out of my way.”

“No can do,” said the vamp. He shot out a hand and seized my sword wrist, attempting to wrench it sideways. “You walk, or we drag. Alive or dead. It’s your call.”

I jerked my hand upward, tossing the sword into the air. My other arm swung up, caught it, and lashed out hard, slicing across the vamp just above his shoulders. Thin trails of smoke spiraled upward from the wound. His head wobbled for a few seconds before falling with a distastefully soft thud to the ground. There was blood for about half a second before it all turned to crumbly stone.

It figured. The young ones always said the grossest shit.

“Whore!” His friend, the only one still standing, squeezed off a shot that went wide as his gun jumped, pinging a chunk out of the wall on my right. He growled and tried again, but his cheap-ass gun jammed on him. I arced the blade around and cut the weapon, and his hand, from his arm. He cradled the stump, screeching. “You fucking bitch! Lorcan’s going to kill you, and I hope he makes it last!”

“I could kill you just to shut you up,” I said. Forget an alarm system; this guy and his big mouth were on track to wake up the whole damn block on their own.

Sure enough, lights began to flicker in the upper windows of the slaughterhouse. I saw a pair of the flimsy blinds move just enough to let me know someone had been behind them. The timer had officially started on my race to gain entry before the whole crew came down to fight.

The vamp, on his knees, still holding his amputated stump in increasingly blood-soaked clothes, surged to his feet and shoved the open wound in my face. He was aiming for my mouth or eyes. Trying to infect me. “Die!” he screamed. “I hope you die!”

Startled, I lopped off more of his arm on reflex, and he hurled his torso in my direction in a chaotic effort to pin me down. “You think you can just come in here and choke us out, cut our heads off with your fancy fire-sword? Not me, bitch! They’re heading down to get you right now. I can feel it. And I’m gonna keep you here if it kills me.”

“I admire your dedication,” I told him. “And you’re right. It will kill you.”

He bared his teeth, stumbled backward, and ran at me again, swinging wildly with the fist of the hand he still had. I blocked the punch with the searing heat of the sword, and then I ran it clean through his side. He fell back to his knees.

“Lorcan… is waiting for… you,” he managed, pointing at me with a shaky index finger. “I’m nothing… compared to him.”

“Well, yeah. I would hope not.”

He was nothing more than dust and debris before he even fell over onto the ground. I jumped over him, left Manny behind, and ran full tilt for the doors. They opened from the inside as I approached, pushed by a pair of vamps wielding two huge handguns each. They fired; I charged. Their heads made a gross but satisfying crack when I smashed them together.

Marcus would have loved that.

Once inside, the noise of others echoed through the vast, high-ceilinged hall. It was better lit now, and the inside had been straightened up some. No massive cage full of captured women sat in the middle of the floor, only an abandoned rack of something, covered. I paused just long enough to lift the sheet and saw vials and vials of blood. Lorcan’s, probably.

They made an incredibly satisfying smash on the hard concrete floor of the slaughterhouse. The blood splattered in dark crimson sunbursts accented by shards of broken glass. I made sure to shatter every single one of those little containers. No doubt they were being prepped for injection just before I showed up to crash the blood party.

A shout rang from the other side of the room, from someone emerging out of the stairwell. He broke into a flat sprint, and as he pulled close enough to register the bloody mess on the floor, his face contorted with rage. He was huge, almost twice my size, and when he lunged toward me, his shadow sank me into darkness for a split second.

But his strength didn’t make him immune to the Gladius Solis. His weight, however, presented a problem. On his way past me, the sword embedded soundly in the heart region, and the body almost ripped the weapon from my hands, causing my shoulder to protest with a jolt of burning pain.

The door to the stairwell kept flapping regularly, ejecting yet more vamps toward me in a steady malignant stream. I met them like I was at target practice, slicing and dicing my way toward the stairs. The closer I got, the more I sensed a deeply-rooted darkness lingering on the floor above, so dense that it was nearly palpable.

There was only one being that it could be.

Tracking vampire dust from my clothes, my shoes, and the edge of my sword, I ran up the harshly lit steps and onto the second floor. The gigantic double doors that had once led to the transformation pit stood bolted open, and through them, I spotted another doorway I hadn’t noticed before. It was both closed and opaque, but there was no mistaking the source of the darkness within.

“Why does he always need an office?” I mumbled to myself. “Makes him way too easy to find.”

Then again, that was probably the point. It would’ve been naïve for me to think he hadn’t masterminded this whole encounter, that he didn’t know I was there. Most likely, he wasn’t even doing anything in there except waiting for me to burst in.

I slowed down, took a breath, and made myself aware of the rhythmic beat of my heart. The insane rush of adrenaline I’d expected wasn’t there yet. In its place was a strange sort of calm determination. Unlike all the times before, I wasn’t really winging it. I knew exactly what I was here to do.

We both did.

The doorway to Lorcan grew larger with every step, as if it were a mirage gradually becoming real. This door did not have a window of any kind, which was both comforting and worrying. He couldn’t physically see me coming, but he didn’t need to. Meanwhile, I’d be going in completely blind. The thought of it raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Was I just being foolhardy, walking into certain death? Would there even be a fight at all?

By the time I’d come within ten feet of the door, my pace had slowed to something like a tiptoe, although not because I was afraid. The fear had gone the way of my nerves. I was just trying to figure out what to expect. My mind spun in a million different directions. It could all be an elaborate, heinous prank. The room behind that door could easily be empty.

Or maybe I would see someone, but who?

Frank? No, he was too simple for this.

Jules?

The energy around the door practically flavored the air. I glanced at my surroundings, noting how dark it felt in a room full of windows. The thin blinds shouldn’t have done much to block out the light, but shadows still descended around me. The only reason I kept moving forward unabated was because I knew the door stood directly in front of me.

“Hello, Vic.”

Delano’s voice froze me in my tracks. My hearing had gotten way better post-nectar infusion, but I couldn’t tell for the life of me exactly where he was. His words bounced around me in surround sound. I waited, body tense, sword hand at the ready.

“I must admit, I am impressed to see you here. Lord Lorcan had faith that you would accept his tacit challenge, but I’m afraid I thought less of you, if only for a moment. It was a moment of weakness, and it will not happen again.”

“What do you want?” I asked carefully. Our last meeting still hovered just at the edge of my mind, though his offers of aid did nothing to disguise his true nature. His depthless eyes locked onto mine and held them in an icy grip. I felt like someone had physically seized my head.

“To talk.” He stepped out of the shadows at last, hands clasped behind his back, the edge of the duster still brushing the floor. “I believe I have something that may interest you.”

“Jules?” I asked. “Where is she?”

A small, indulgent smile curved his lips. “Your devotion to human acquaintances is… fascinating, if misguided. Your focus belongs elsewhere, on those more deserving of your attention. Hence, my proposal.”

“What proposal?” Instantly, I was on my guard. I didn’t want to make any more deals.

“Are you not curious about becoming an Apprenti?” He arched his eyebrows. “A demigod, in layman’s terms. Don’t you see how a position of such power could serve someone like you?”

I eyed him warily but kept my mouth shut. He gave me a beat then continued. “Think of it as escaping the hellish turmoil that will undoubtedly befall humanity, without assuming the burdens of life and death that are inherent to being a god. All the power, little responsibility.” His smile widened. “Do you think a single soul dreams of my intentions when I am standing in Lord Lorcan’s glow? Of course, they don’t.”

“Because Lorcan’s an asshole,” I said. “The sheer force of his assholery completely eclipses you. That’s not a perk of the job.”

“Ah, my job.” His gaze sharpened. “Don’t tell me it’s failed to intrigue you on some level. Who am I? Why do I work unfailingly for a god who would burn the universe in pursuit of his own goals? If you joined me, you could have those answers. And you could have so much more.”

“I’m a human,” I reminded him.

“You are a fool, too, if you think that means anything. There have been human demigods before, perhaps even some you have known. Have you never wondered who it was that elevated Rome to its dizzying heights? Or how it could have been that such a glorious empire suffered a crushing fall? Perhaps its source of inspiration was carted off to Carcerum, blinded by the ideals espoused by a weak and fallible king.”

“You can’t be serious,” I said. “He would have told me.”

“What would you have said if he had?” Delano stared a hole straight through the back of my skull. “I suspect the implications of his truth would have been too much for your fragile mind to bear.”

“And what exactly are those implications?”

Delano frowned. “Don’t be dense, girl. You know them already. Doubtless, your mentor told you of the chaos that reigned during the first war. But I ask you to look deep into your heart and tell me: how is that any different from the way things are now?”

I was quiet, thinking.

“Your wretched people still fight wars within their own species. Humans kill and die at an astounding rate without the assistance of the gods you so revile.” He shrugged. “The underlying truth is this: you are not capable of ruling yourselves. You never have been, and you never will be.”

I clenched my teeth. I’d been expecting him to spout some crazy shit at me the same way Lupres had back in the caves in Washington, but Delano’s diatribe spoke to some of the cynicism lurking in my own heart. I didn’t want him to make sense. I didn’t want there to be common ground between us.

But was there, after all?

We stood in silence for a few long minutes, facing each other, neither one of us moving. He remained utterly calm, his face placid. I rolled his ideas over in my mind. Humans are not capable of ruling themselves.

Humans weren’t capable of ruling themselves?

“No.” I shook my head. “How can I accept that without completely discounting myself, my friends, and everyone I’ve ever loved or admired? We rule ourselves in small ways every day, within the boundaries of our lives. And most of us get along just fine, thank you.” I shifted my stance. “The world doesn’t need more demigods.”

He let out a long, slow sigh that was rife with real disappointment. “I had such high hopes for you.”

My fingers tightened on my sword. I glanced down at the hilt in my hands. The first blush of adrenaline finally started to flow through my veins. Fighting Delano hadn’t necessarily been on my list of priorities, but I was about to make room.

Then I looked up again, and he was gone. The light in the room had returned to normal, aside from the malevolent backbeat of Lorcan’s dark energy behind the still-closed door. I blinked, wondering if maybe I’d just dreamed up the whole thing.

A sharp click brought me back to my senses—the door to Lorcan’s office unlocking.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jules was the first thing I saw when I opened the door.

She sat in the back corner, balanced on the edge of a chair, her hands tied tightly behind her. Tears streaked her cheeks with makeup from days ago. Her blonde hair hung greasy around her face. Her eyes, wide with fearful anticipation, changed as she saw me, filling with tentative hope. “Vic?” she mouthed.

I met her gaze but didn’t react.

Someone else was watching me, too, his expression fixed into one that was calm but predatory. He had another desk, but he stood behind it, hands flat on the top. The slight hunch of his shoulders conveyed his subhuman nature better than actions or words ever could. Turning toward him made the blood in my veins run cold.

“I’ve been waiting for you to arrive,” he said, curling back his upper lip in a baleful caricature of a smile. “I thought I would simply dispose of you once our parley went up in smoke, but then you did me the incredible service of eliminating that troublesome shapeshifter.” Lorcan scratched his narrow chin. “He could have proved something of a problem in the future had you not intervened.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” I said.

“No, but the end result benefited me nonetheless. So, I decided you were worth seeing one last time.” His teeth flashed. “You should be honored. It has been ages since I last killed someone personally.”

“Other than the mayor?” The sword burned against my palm. My heart pounded in my chest. I felt like electric pulses had been wired under my skin.

“Silly girl,” said the god dismissively. “You refused to do it, so Dorias killed him, not I. Those machinations were entirely his own. Not that I disagree with them, mind you.”

“Why was he such a threat to you?”

Lorcan stared at me as if I were an idiot. “Inglewood stopped cooperating. It really is that simple. At some point, the siren song of unlimited power lost its hold on him and allowed him to grow back some semblance of a spine. Or perhaps he realized just how easy humans are to rule and decided he had no need for what we offered. It is a pity really.” Lorcan smoothed a hand over his hair. “We would have given him everything. Just like we would have given you.”

Jules’s eyes passed silently between Lorcan and me with every exchange. She may have been terrified out of her mind, but she was still absorbing every little detail. A true public defender.

I wanted to get her out of there more than anything, although I still wasn’t sure how.

“You put one hell of a target on my back with the cops,” I told Lorcan. “Why’d you have to frame me? You’re a god, right? It’s hard for me to believe you couldn’t have covered up the whole nasty business if you felt like it.”

He grinned. “True. I suppose there are some redeeming human qualities. Chief among them is the potential for entertainment. But it would be remiss for me not to admit that I am always looking to expand my network of capable devotees. Delano can’t be expected to do everything.”

“You really thought I would work for you, no questions asked?” I made no effort to hide the raw disdain in my voice.

Lorcan glanced away, his face clouded by irritation. “For all your human faults, you are uncommonly smart. I was sure you were desperate enough as well, for a time. But then the golden boy of Kronin landed in your river, and he infected you with the god-king’s hubris. Thus corrupted, you became no better than the rest of these idle fools.”

“And you wanted to hire me,” I said. “So, what does that make you?”

His eyes darkened instantly. “Enough of this useless chatter. Let us get down to the real business here.”

The blade erupted from its hilt, casting the whole room in its fiery glow. “I thought you’d never ask,” I said.

In the next instant, he was gone. Only a silhouette of his form remained behind the desk, and then, only briefly. I thought of Delano confronting me outside the office door and resigned myself to a world of disorientation. He was like Delano but faster, whirling around me, leaving vague prints of himself everywhere I looked. I didn’t dare even blink for fear that he’d land a devastating blow as soon as I let my guard down, but the constant motion was overwhelming.

Then, I felt him directly behind me, and I cut a golden arc through the air with the Gladius Solis, aiming directly for his head. At the last moment, he whipped up his hand. A vortex of shadow engulfed my blade. Its grip tightened and began to pull.

“Let me show you how the strength of that blade is a fallacy,” Lorcan said. “You will thank me once you have been enlightened.” His arm muscles tensed. The force applied to my sword increased. My heels started to lose their traction on the floor. “Kronin was a false idol, Carcerum the greatest deception the realms have ever known. And you, like so many others, have fallen prey to his foolish ideologies.” Lorcan’s eyes burned. “You are the ones who bring ruin upon yourselves!”

The sword had all but disappeared. A sliver of light was the only part of the blade still visible from within Lorcan’s void. He continued to pull, and I continued to resist as best as I could. Whatever was pulling me felt more like a force of nature than anything that could’ve come from someone who looked so much like a man. My bare hands inched closer and closer to the void.

“No!” I threw all my weight backward, bracing my legs with every ounce of might in me. Carcerum’s nectar burned in my veins. In Lorcan’s grasp, the Gladius Solis brightened, forcing back his hold. “He held you prisoner for eons!” I shouted. “You’re just pissed off that it took you so long to figure out how to break free!”

A vein popped out in Lorcan’s forehead. “And still, you choose the god-king’s tainted glory over me?” A tendril of black shadow snapped out from his other hand and cracked me smartly across the face. Somewhere outside of my circle of vision, Jules gasped audibly. “Do you know who it was that killed him?” The tendril snaked around my torso, and slowly, deliberately, it began to crush. “Me!” The god’s voice rose to an earthshaking boom. “It was me! And you dare face that kind of power?” He let out a laugh, its bass notes shaking my body.

My hands couldn’t grab on to the darkness around my body. I struggled to breathe and free the sword from its roots of shadow until the edges of my vision grew hazy. “You don’t know shit about power,” I croaked. “If you did, I’d already be dead.”

Enraged, he squeezed down on me. As a last-ditch effort, I forced myself to grab the hilt of the sword with both hands, set my body as best I could, and pull with everything I had left. The exertion nearly made me black out, but the Gladius Solis finally jostled free. It was brighter still, a pillar of white-gold light that wavered in my oxygen deprived hands.

Suddenly, the tendrils around my waist loosened rapidly, receding back toward their master. Lorcan summoned them again, but they only made it so far before disintegrating in the face of my sword’s light. I dropped to my hands and knees on the floor, gasping air into my aching lungs. That didn’t stop me from looking Lorcan in the face and grinning.

“Oh, did you hate that?” I shot at the God of Darkness. “Have I found your one true weakness?”

He growled, launching a barrage of shadows at me. They curled around my arms and legs, hoisting me into the air and threatening to rip me limb from limb. I could see Jules while I was suspended up there. She was crying big silent tears.

“I have no weaknesses,” Lorcan roared. “You, on the other hand, have too many to count!”

The shadows yanked at me, trying to force me to drop the sword. I held on even when my circulation was cut off and my fingers started to go numb. “Come on, Kronin,” I mumbled under my labored breath. “You came through once before. I need you to come through again.”

Closing my eyes against the ragged pain in my body, I channeled every ounce of energy into the blade. I thought about everyone who stood to lose if Lorcan won. I pictured an Earth covered in his shadows. The rage that flowed from me filled the blade. Its heat rocketed up, nearly searing the skin of my palm.

“Giving up?” Lorcan mocked. “Good.”

I opened my eyes. “You would be… so… lucky!”

The darkness clutching my right hand disappeared, vaporized in an instant by the Gladius Solis. Blood rushed into my wrist again, which I used to turn its blazing fury directly on Lorcan. His looming shadow began to shrink, and with it, so did his power. Every dark appendage that had a hold on me melted away, and then I was struggling to make sure I landed on my feet instead of my head.

“Impossible!” spat the god. His gaze was fixated on the Gladius Solis. “Impossible!”

Advancing on him, I held the weapon as high as I could. “Afraid not.”

Lorcan tried to teleport behind his desk, but he couldn’t get far enough back, and he stumbled over the top of it instead. I vaulted the surface, shoving the eye of the blade into the leg space so that he couldn’t hide there, either. He threw his hands up, writhing in the glare.

“How does that feel?” I asked him, pointing the sword straight at his heart. “Like desperation? Like terror? Like you’re finally the one becoming the victim?”

He screwed up his face and ducked lower. His feet kept moving back. Mine kept moving forward.

His body made an audible sound as it struck the back wall of his impromptu office. I watched the shudder of impact roll through his torso, followed by the hard, cold realization that he’d come to the end of the line. He could barely open his eyes through the aggressive shine of the sword, but he did it, and I was glad. I wanted him to see me as so many had seen him before—the specter of death gliding in to take its due.

His long hand stretched out toward me, a gesture that could’ve been defiance or supplication. I walked up until we were inches apart, the sword-light washing every bit darkness out of him. His eyes were little more than blind white voids.

“No,” he whispered. “How can you…”

I smiled. “The crazy thing about idle fools is, we’ve got a lot of time to figure your shit out.” I gestured at him with the sword. “Also, I’m pretty sure Kronin says you can fuck right off with your false god bullshit.”

“This will be the face of regret,” Lorcan said. I put the blade right up to his face, and he cringed back. The skin across his nose blistered from the fire.

“I don’t think so.” I grinned. “This is the face of victory.”

The most important thing that Lorcan taught me was that no amount of power could save you from death. He went rigid for a second as the blade plunged into his heart, and then his body exploded into plumes of shadow darker than any blackness I’d ever seen before. The essence of the god filled the room and faded, and as it fell away, I waded through the dimness toward Jules’s chair.

“Vic!” She burst out with my name amid a waterfall of sobs. “Oh shit, I thought he was going to kill you!”

“Not gonna lie,” I said. “I wasn’t sure for a while there, myself.”

I went around behind her and carefully broke her ties. She automatically sighed with relief. Her hands were purple, and her wrists were chafed. Jules rubbed them gingerly.

“Are you okay?” I asked. “Generally speaking. Nothing’s broken or bleeding? You can walk?”

“I can walk.” She nodded. “I think they were afraid to hurt me, as weird as that sounds.” She stood up and threw her arms around me. “How did you find me?”

I hugged her back, more tightly than I had in a long time. “It’s complicated. I’m just thankful I made it in time.”

Jules pulled away, held me at arm’s length, and just looked at me, her face aglow with pride and gratitude. “Vic, this is totally insane. All of this. I have no way to process what’s happened to me over the last couple weeks. But somehow, I knew you would come after me, and I’m so, so proud of you.”

“Of course I would.” I squeezed her. “And of course I did. Not to mention, I guess you now know I’ve found my mission in life.”

Jules gazed past me at the door. “Do you think it’s safe for us to leave?” she asked. “I don’t know about you, but I’d really like to go home.” Even though she was still smiling, her eyes were haunted.

“It’s safe for you,” I told her. “For me, I don’t know.” The thin, reedy voice of a siren cut through the outside air, drawing rapidly closer. “On second thought, make that a no for me.”

“What?” Her attention snapped back to me. “What’s happening?”

“The inevitable. I’m guessing you haven’t been watching the news.” I took her gently by the hand and led her toward the door. “Let’s go meet it together.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

I paused just before we reached the exit door of the slaughterhouse and looked Jules in the eye. “Don’t panic,” I told her.

She could hear the growing noise of the mob, now just outside. “Vic, what is going on? Are these guys here for you?”

I tried not to think about how confused and heartbroken she’d be when she found out what all the media outlets were reporting about me. Or about how in-jail I would be, unable to explain my side of the story except from the opposite side of a sheet of glass.

Assuming they didn’t just shoot me on sight.

“Just… don’t panic,” I said again. “Everything’s going to be fine.” I made my lips form a smile that my heart didn’t feel. “Ready?”

She eyed me searchingly, her face full of worry. “I don’t know, but I guess we have no choice.” I went to push the door open, but she stepped in front of me. “Let me go first.”

Normally, I might have argued with her, but right then, I lacked the fortitude. Obediently, I backed up and let her pass. Jules shook herself off, raised her hands, and slipped out of the building. Immediately, a tidal wave of sound rose and broke over the old slaughterhouse. As I emerged, I saw a female officer tuck a blanket around Jules’s shoulders before leading her to a waiting ambulance.

The reception I got was very different.

“Down on the ground!” an FBI agent ordered. It wasn’t Deacon, which was some small relief, but he looked ready to use the gun he pointed at me from behind improvised cover. The command was echoed by at least three or four more or less identical agents. All with guns. All fully decked out in tactical gear. A barrier of SUVs circled around the sea of uniforms. They’d really gone all out for me.

I eased my hand out to the side and dropped the sword hilt on the ground. Then I brought both hands up and laced them behind my head as I dropped to my knees. My gaze stayed fixed on the few feet directly in front of me, so I only saw the legs of the two feds who broke out of the crowd to restrain me.

And yet I still recognized Deacon’s cool, easy walk. He was the one who cuffed me, pulled me to my feet, and took me out to a waiting car. I wanted to say something to him, but in the moment, words failed me. Head hanging, I stood with my hands shackled in front of me, waiting for him to open the car door.

He placed his hand on my head to load me into the back seat. “Don’t worry, Vic,” he whispered. “I’ll see you through this.”

Caught off guard, I raised my head to finally look at him, but the door was already closing behind me, and the bars on the window limited my field of view. Deacon tapped twice on the roof and stepped back. A second after that, he and his blonde partner stood side by side in the rear window, watching the envoy drive away with me in the back. I caught his eye just before he was too far away for it to matter, and I could have sworn he nodded at me.

It seemed too good to be true, but even as I rode in the back of the paddy wagon down toward the holding center, I let myself be cautiously hopeful. I knew better than anyone how the world worked in mysterious ways.

I was placed in a cell by myself after booking, one with a solid door that didn’t allow other inmates to look in on me. “This isn’t because you’re a deranged murderer, even if you are,” my guard told me wryly, half a smile quirking her lips. “It’s for your own protection.”

“Oh?” I asked blandly. In the aftermath of the fight with Lorcan, looking through the open grate of my first, possibly long-term prison cell, I was somewhat surprised to find that I just didn’t give a shit. It was like the stuff with Lorcan had truly drained me of all leftover emotion. I knew what I was supposed to feel—it just wasn’t there.

I sat down on the bunk and sighed deeply, feeling my whole body deflate. I was locked up, but all the tension was gone, along with my responsibilities. After a whirlwind month or so, it was all finally over as far as I was concerned. I’d worry about it again if the war actually happened. For now, all I could do was wait. I hadn’t felt this good in months.

Time passed slowly. They’d taken everything from me at booking, including my clothes, my phone, and of course, my sword. But I knew I was still owed a single phone call, and I’d memorized the number I needed for just such an occasion. I held it in my head as I lay back on the tiny, hard bunk, listening to the wall chains creak every time I thought about moving.

I thought I could get used to it. Quarters were small, and the toilet was out in the open, but so was my toilet in the loft. If this one flushed reliably, then it was really kind of a step up. Three square meals a day, no bills or other money worries? That would be okay, right? For the rest of my life?

I groaned. Who the hell was I kidding? I wasn’t made to be a prisoner. I couldn’t exactly proclaim myself innocent, but if I was being honest and not self-sacrificing, prison was going to drive me up the wall. The only reason I felt okay with it at present was because my body ached from fighting, and I just wanted to go to sleep. Once I’d gotten my rest, the full force of this new reality would smack me in the face.

I might go insane.

“Damn it to hell, Vic,” I muttered to myself. “How did we get here?”

Most of it still felt like a blur, or like I would wake up any minute now in my own bed, back on the hunt for the murderous douchebag extraordinaire, Rocco Durant. I’d walk out the door of my apartment and into some seedy bar, squeezing some guy for information.

If those were the good old days, I didn’t want to see the future.

Eventually, someone did come, a short, stocky lady who looked like she could break me into pieces over her leg. She looked me up and down as I stood in front of her. “Ain’t you a tall drink of water?” she asked. “If I had a son, I’d fix you up with him.”

I smiled politely. “May I make my phone call?”

The lady shrugged her massive bulldog shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for.” She brandished a pair of handcuffs. “Sorry, toots. Chains gotta be on.”

“That’s fine.” She hooked me up, and I shuffled along beside her until we got to the phone area, at which point she handed me the receiver and walked a few paces away to give me the illusion of privacy. I entered Deacon’s number into the pad, put the phone to my ear, and waited.

The sound on the other end was loud and tinny, but I could hear ringing. Halfway through the second ring, an electronic voice cut in. “All calls incoming and outgoing from the Detention Center will be recorded.”

My heart sank. I’d forgotten about that. There was no way I could talk to Deacon now, even if he answered his phone. I was one big liability. Quickly, I pressed the lever to hang up and dialed Jules’s number, hoping I was quick enough to escape notice. The guard sat in a nearby folding chair, fiddling with her phone. She didn’t even look up as I peeked out of the little booth.

“Vic?” Jules sounded breathless, like she’d run to pick up her phone. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. I’m safe and sound at the Bureau’s detention center, I guess. You’re my phone call.”

“Oh my God.” I pictured her shaking her head, running her hand into her hair like she always did when she was stressed. “I’m still with the police myself, but I told them I had to take this. They let me go when they found out it was you calling. I think they’re expecting me to give them something to go on.”

“What did they tell you?” I asked. “Just curious.”

“They said you killed Mayor Inglewood!” Her voice rose with the sheer panic and insanity of the sentence. “There’s security footage of you stabbing him inside City Hall. They think I know something.”

“It’s…” I drummed my fingers on the little table in the booth. “It’s complicated. I hope someday I’ll have the opportunity to explain it.”

“Stop talking like my great-grandma on her deathbed,” Jules said. “If you need a lawyer, I’ve got you covered. Pro bono, obviously. But you’re going to have to tell me everything.”

“Well—”

“Not now. After we’ve established the attorney-client privilege. I’ll figure out what I need to do, and then I’ll come visit you. We’ll get through this together.”

It was the second time today I’d heard that. I chewed my lip. “Thanks, Jules. I’m glad I have you in my corner.”

“And you always will.” She turned her head away from the phone, and I heard her curse softly. “Damn it. These frigging cops keep looking this way. I think I’ve got to get back in there.”

“Okay. Hang tough. I’ll try to do the same. Can’t wait to see you.” It felt weird as hell saying that to her and knowing her next visit was going to be in the visiting room, during visiting hours, and I might still be wearing handcuffs.

“I can’t wait to see you either. Promise me you won’t worry, Vic. I’m a great lawyer. We can do this.”

I smiled. “Yes you are, and yes we can. I won’t worry if you don’t worry about me. It’s about time I had some peace and quiet anyway.”

“Right.” She cursed again. “Okay, I’ll talk to you soon.”

Click. The line went dead. I placed the phone back into its box and stood up, my eyes on my prison guard. As soon as she saw me watching her, she slipped her phone into her pocket and ambled over to escort me back to my cell. As the door slid shut behind me, I stood at the tiny window in the thick cement wall and stared at a lovely view of an empty back lot.

Talking to Jules had been both a blessing and a curse: a blessing because it restored some of my sanity, and a curse because the restored sanity gave me a fresh perspective on how much life in jail was going to absolutely blow.

“Shit,” I muttered into my hands, scrubbing my palms across my face. No matter how I sliced it, I couldn’t even imagine a scenario in which I emerged with less than twenty-five years. Even if I somehow managed to dodge the murder charge, I still had Silas Monk to contend with, and that incident included grand theft auto. All the questionable decisions I’d ever made in life were finally catching up to me all at once—and punching me in the face. My faith in Jules remained unwavering, but the most she could do was hope to cut me a deal.

I told myself that killing a god was worth it, but I couldn’t seem to make it stick.

Chapter Twenty-Five

I’d been in my holding cell for at least six hours when the agents finally came to get me. The grate slid open to reveal two almost comically mismatched men: one slender and mild-looking, the other tough and hard-bodied. The tough one had a jawline that looked like it could cut diamonds, and he displayed it prominently as he stared at me.

“So, you’re the little lady that’s got all of New York going nuts,” he said. “Huh.”

I already hated him.

They took me out of the detention center, put me in the back of a car, and brought me to a separate location to be interrogated. The whole process struck me as more than a little weird, but I didn’t know much about real police work, and I was already in enough trouble as it was, so I kept my mouth shut. We went in through a back entrance, down some bleak, unmarked hallways, and into a room that reminded me of those old pictures of sanitariums. Bare floor, bare bulb in the ceiling, one wall made of one-way glass.

“You want anything?” the mild guy asked. “Coffee? Water? Soda?”

I licked my chapped lips. “Water would be good.”

He nodded, and then he left to get it. I sat handcuffed to the edge of the table, pointedly not meeting the raking gaze of Mr. Tough Guy. Tough Guy didn’t say anything, just sat in his office chair and watched me from across the tabletop. Maybe he thought he could psych me out, force out a confession before the tapes even really began.

He didn’t know who the hell he was dealing with. I hadn’t been in the room for more than five minutes, and we were already stubbornly at odds. By the time the other guy got back with my water, the atmosphere in the room had been tacitly charged with negativity. Nice Guy looked between us as he took his seat, raised an eyebrow, and started the tape.

Nice Guy informed me of my rights, which I already knew. Tough Guy sat back with his bulging arms folded, still staring at me. A younger, more impulsive Vic might have lost her patience, gone over the table at him, and ended up in prison anyway for assaulting an agent. As it was, I did my best to match his silence with a sullen one of my own.

“Now, listen, Victoria,” said Nice Guy. “We—”

“Call me Vic,” I said. “That’s it.”

Tough Guy scowled, but his partner nodded graciously. “All right then,” he said in his soothing voice. “We know you were in City Hall when the mayor was killed, Vic. You’re on a lot of the footage we pulled from those cameras in his office, okay? I mean, you’re on a lot of it.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.” I’d already made up my mind not to bullshit about things they knew about. That was childish, and it wouldn’t help my case if I ever did have to bring it to court. I couldn’t bring myself to be a shitty client if Jules was my lawyer.

“Why don’t you tell us what happened? Take your time, in your own words. We’re not going anywhere.”

“But if you start lying, we’ll know,” Tough Guy chimed in. He sat forward a bit, resting his massive forearms on the table. The shoulders of his suit jacket bulged.

I looked at him evenly. “If you’ll know when I’m lying, why do I need to tell you what happened?” For anyone else in any other circumstances, this kind of thing would have been an awful idea, but I had nothing left to lose. I figured I might as well have a little fun at their expense. Especially if Tough Guy was going to act like a royal meathead the whole time.

He was not amused. “You wanna know why?” he asked. “Because Davis and I know you’re type. Lying comes second nature, and we need that shit on tape, so start singing.”

“Easy, Harrigan,” the mild guy said.

He scooted his chair closer to me and crossed his legs, giving me an excellent view of the perfect crease in his pressed pants. I side-eyed him. They were a majorly odd couple, these two, but they must have been great at bringing in results.

“We just want to know the truth,” Mild Guy continued. “And we know you know the truth, and you want to tell us what that is.” An encouraging smile passed over his lips. “So, here’s an excellent opportunity for all of us to get what we want.”

I rolled my eyes. “The only way I’m getting what I want is if I spontaneously decide I want to go to jail.” I fiddled with the chain on my handcuffs, filling the room with the clink of metal on metal. “You can’t grant me immunity for all of this. What’s more, you wouldn’t even if you could.”

Mild Guy looked as regretful as his bland face could manage. “The camera doesn’t lie, Vic. It’s the perfect witness.”

“Can I see those tapes?” I asked. “Like, can I watch them? Because if you’re drawing your conclusions mainly from those tapes, I guarantee there’s something missing.”

“The tapes are currently still under review by a team of forensic specialists.” Mild Guy turned his expression into an approximation of sadness. “But I promise you, Vic, there can’t be anything in that footage that completely exonerates you of the crime. The evidence against you is extremely definitive.”

“He’s saying you don’t have room to bargain,” Tough Guy chimed in. “So, your only choice is to square up with us.” He clicked the end of a pen in and out with one giant thumb.

I released a long-suffering sigh. “Looking to catch me in a lie. Damn, that’s heavy shit, isn’t it? And here I was thinking the murder of the mayor of New York was bad enough.”

Harrigan glared at me, completely stone-faced. The pad of paper that went with his clicky pen remained empty. He was only concerned with intimidating me until I talked.

I took that as a challenge.

“I think it would be good for you to take these charges with all the seriousness they merit,” Mild Guy said. “The resulting sentences could potentially affect the rest of your life.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I haven’t spent the last eight hours thinking about that at all. What do you think the chances are that they’ll give me the death penalty? At least that way, I’ll know where I’m supposed to be going.”

The pen clicking stopped. Harrigan’s fist practically swallowed the writing instrument. I could tell by the way he looked that he would have loved nothing more than to hit me. That would’ve been fine. A good fight would hurt, but it would also let off some steam.

“The death penalty is limited in New York,” he said, his icy eyes never leaving my face. “But you will be tried as a traitor to the U.S., and treason is considered a capital offense. If you’re found guilty of domestic terrorism, they’ll ship you off to GITMO. How would you like that?”

“Not ideal,” I said. “What about Alcatraz? I’ve always wanted to see that place in person.”

Harrigan smirked. “Two days in GITMO, and you’ll be wishing you were dead. You talk a tough game now, but I know your type. Soon as they put your feet to the fire, you’ll be crying for your mom.”

It was my turn to glower. He’d hit the hot button, whether he knew it or not. “Maybe if you bend over far enough,” I said slowly, “you can fit all of Guantanamo up your steroid-padded ass. I want my lawyer. Now.”

Davis’s mild face suddenly didn’t look so mild. A cruel little smirk tilted his mouth. “We’ve tried to play nice, Victoria—”

“Don’t call me that,” I spat, thinking of Marcus and wishing he were with me.

The agent ignored me. “But you’re making this difficult,” he said. “If you don’t help me out, I’m going to turn off the camera and let Harrigan here have some fun.” He glanced at his grinning, bastard partner. “And he doesn’t have much of a bedside manner.”

I looked Davis in the eyes and then Harrigan. “Fuck off. Both of you. I know my rights.”

Just as the douchebag stood, the steel door across the room swung open. I couldn’t say if I was relieved or excited.

“St. Clare?” Harrigan asked, eyes narrowed. “The hell you—”

But before Bad Cop could finish the question, Deacon had drawn his gun and put a bullet between his eyes. Deacon dropped Davis immediately after.

“Hey.” Deacon pulled a handcuff key from his pocket and freed me. “Not to state the obvious, but we gotta get the hell out of here. Think I might have just broken protocol.”

I glanced between him and the bodies on the floor, which had now disappeared into piles of fine ash.

“Holy shit,” I said. “They’re vampires? But how’d you know?”

“Our friend from the park. He came and found me, told me everything. I guess right about the time you were saving your friend. I’m sorry, Vic. I should have trusted you.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I told you I’d protect the Mayor, and I failed.”

“Yeah, but only because his assistant was dirty. Along with these agents and half of New York’s finest. The gods got to them all.” Deacon beckoned me urgently. “Let’s go. We’re gonna have to fight our way out of this mess.”

“Uh, Deacon?” I showed him my empty hands and my pocketless orange jumpsuit. “Fight with what? My fists? I’ve only got two, and this is a huge building.”

He smiled slightly. “As a good Southern gentleman, I didn’t show up empty-handed. I brought you a gift. Consider it part one of my grand apology.” With that, he reached into his jacket and produced the Gladius Solis. “Incidentally, this is the other reason we need to haul ass up out of here. I am definitely not supposed to have this thing.”

I grinned. “Neither am I.” The sword felt good in my hands again, like I’d just had a limb restored. “Okay, now I’m a hundred percent down for this.”

“I didn’t expect I would be,” Deacon said, “but actually, I kind of am, too.” He paused one more time at the door. “This is the point of no return, Vic. For real this time.”

I laughed. “Deacon, I passed that point a long time ago. This is a one-way trip.”

He nodded. “Yeah. For both of us now.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“Quick question,” I said as we dashed through dark winding halls. The thunder of approaching footsteps seemed to be closing in from all sides, and I had no idea where we were going. “Where the hell are we, and why is it so damn dark?”

“That’s two questions!” Deacon called. “I’ll answer them in a minute. Looks like we’re about to have company.” The hallway ahead looked like it was seething, crowded with a mass of dark shapes. “Try not to kill them if you can help it. We’re in enough trouble without padding our body count, and I don’t know who’s with the enemy and who’s just trying to do their job.”

An agent rushed him, dark suit flapping, and Deacon landed a mean punch right across the guy’s jaw. I watched the runner drop like a sack of bricks.

I didn’t have time to admire Deacon’s fighting form, impressive as it was. A crush of sharply dressed agents converged around us like a swarm of locusts, trying to overwhelm us with sheer numbers. I kept the blade of the Gladius Solis dormant, but the heavy edge of the hilt served me well. Fighting through the chaos with Deacon at my side reminded me of being in the vampire pit with Marcus. Only instead of yelling advice and encouragement, Deacon was busy showing me up.

Agents dropped around him like flies. He waded forward, pushing toward the edge and motioning for me to follow. “We’re going left and then right!” he shouted, simultaneously felling another agent with a well-placed hit to the side of the head. He’d lost his jacket at some point while I wasn’t looking, and his crisp white shirt stood out in the darkness like a beacon.

I plunged after him, sword hilt bashing a path forward.

It took a few minutes, but I eventually caught back up to Deacon. We fled the horde along a more dimly lit, meandering hall. He grabbed my arm. “Okay. Pretty soon I’m gonna say run, and when I say that, we flat-out sprint. Got it?”

“What are we sprinting toward?” I asked skeptically. “A blind curve?” The place was full of them, and there seemed to be more baddies around every corner.

“No. You’ll see.” We rounded a normal corner, and Deacon bellowed, “Run!”

This corridor was a straight shot with a smooth, polished floor. Our pounding footsteps rang out like a flurry of gunshots. A huge, heavy door loomed at the end of the passage. That, I guessed, was what we were aiming for.

Deacon started out ahead, but my nectar-infused legs gained on him quickly. I blew by him without a second thought. I pulled the doors open just enough for the two of us to slip through ahead of our zealous pursuers.

“Damn, girl.” Deacon leaned on the door to catch his breath. “What are you, an Ironman veteran? You got some serious athletic chops.”

I grinned at him. “Jealous?”

“A little bit, yeah! I’ve seen these doors require two separate people to open.” Abruptly, he pulled in his breath, held it, and put a finger to his lips. I followed suit, ears open. Someone walked somewhere nearby, their footfalls echoing. We waited tensely until the sound faded away.

“Seriously, where were we?” I asked quietly. “And where are we?”

We’d emerged on what looked more like a normal office floor. An open section of cubicles butted up against walled offices. Deacon wound his way around the outer edge of the open space, checking every corner with the neurotic thoroughness of a man who’d paid the price for negligence once before.

“Standard FBI facility,” he said, eyes sweeping our surroundings. “On the surface anyway. This one’s a little special because it’s got an underground section. A section that’s dark, if you will.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I furrowed my brow. “Seems like they took it a little too literally.”

“Just means it’s buried deep and off the books. The stuff that goes on in there never gets out to the public, barring a planned informational release.”

“So that’s why they brought me down there.” I frowned hard. “What a couple of doucheboats.”

“Who, Harrigan and Davis?” A cloud moved across Deacon’s face. “They’ve always been a couple of assholes, but I didn’t expect this.”

“I’ve seen a lot I didn’t expect.” We continued down the hall. “How compromised is the Bureau? How far up does it go?”

“All the way to the top maybe.” Deacon shrugged. “I don’t know the full extent of it. I was trying to find more information on my way here, but everything is chaos. I’m not sure what happened.”

I shook my head. “Vampire mobsters were bad enough. Vampires with badges and government resources sound like a serious pain in the ass. If we ever find our way out of this place, we’ll have to do something about that.”

“Relax.” Deacon put his hand on my arm. “I’ve been through this place a hundred times. We’ll make it out.”

I glanced around the creepy half-darkness, searching the low-lighted places for more dark suits. The whole office area seemed completely deserted, the same way Lorcan had cleaned out his operation at the top of the One World Trade Center.

“Where is everyone?” I whispered. “Did they all come down to try and keep us from reaching the surface?”

“Doesn’t seem possible. This is a huge facility.” No sooner had he said that than a furious pattering sound caught our attention. I turned just in time to see a blurred shape launch through the air toward Deacon, striking him square in the chest. He grunted and stumbled backward. “What the hell, man?”

Reaching out to help him, I realized that the projectile was actually a person, a small man clinging onto Deacon’s shoulders and snarling into his face. His teeth looked like they were half-formed fangs grown in at strange angles. I grabbed him by the back of his once-respectable dark suit and flung him into a distant corner.

Shaking my head, I muttered, “Man, I hate these things.”

We took two more turns, and I could feel the anticipation building in Deacon. We were almost out. We had to be.

“Stairwell’s right over there.” He pointed. “We go up, then straight out. There are faster ways to do it, but we’d have to go through more of the main building, and I don’t want us to get mobbed again.” He paused. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” I braced the hilt in my hand. We ran for the stairs, and at the top, Deacon kicked open the door. He froze. I almost ran straight into him.

“Steph?” Deacon asked. A beat of silence passed. “Put your gun down. You don’t understand how big this is.”

I stepped up next to Deacon and saw Steph, his blonde, hard-ass partner. Her gun pointed right at us. Her eyes flashed, and her teeth clenched, but she said nothing.

“I’m sorry, Steph.” Deacon’s gun was out, too, leveled straight at her. “It was something I had to do. It’s still something I have to do. And I really don’t want to hurt you. Please trust me.”

She stared at him, emotionless. Her blue eyes registered almost nothing.

Then she pulled the trigger.

The amplified blast in the hallway reverberated all around us. My head snapped around to Deacon, waiting for him to drop.

He didn’t.

A body hit the floor behind us then melted to dust. Steph had seen the fangs and sent him straight to Hell before he could attack.

“What’s a partner for, after all?” She cracked a smile that almost looked foreign on her face. “Go on. You two need to book it out of here right now. I’ll be able to buy you some time, but hurry up. I’m sure they heard that shot.”

“Steph.” Deacon touched her shoulder. “Thank you. It’s been an honor to serve beside you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, St. Clare.” She squared her stance and releveled her gun. “Take care of each other out there.”

Gunshots rang out as Deacon and I barreled through the remaining distance to the front of the building. As we emerged, the bright wash of daylight slapped us both in the face, grinding our progress to a halt. I squinted as my eyes adjusted.

I exhaled, relieved that we had made it to freedom.

And then I looked up.

“What the fuck?” The sky was swirling and torn, crawling with all kinds of different life forms. Animal, humanoid, ethereal. Some familiar creatures and others I’d never even seen.

Colors and light exploded across the clouds, painting a background as surreal as the scene unfolding on top of it. A human shape with wings plummeted toward the earth, encased in fire.

To the west, a demon with massive, curling horns lurked just atop the horizon.

The whole thing looked like a painting composed by a mad man. I saw so many things I could barely comprehend, and some others I understood too well. As crazy as the sight was, I knew one thing with absolute certainty.

The gods were descending on New York.

Deacon squinted and shaded his eyes. “Well, shit,” he muttered. “I’m going to say this is pretty bad.”

I couldn’t take my eyes away from the chaos in the sky. “We’re out of time,” I told him. “It’s starting.”

Deacon glanced at me. “What does that mean?”

“Remember when you talked about the point of no return?” I pointed to the sky. “This is it. This is exactly it.”

“What do we do?” he asked.

I held the Gladius Solis tightly in my hand. “We go to war.”

Epilogue

Ages of scheming had finally come to fruition. Delano stood behind the desk in the high-rise office that was supposed to belong to a god now dead, his beloved Lord Lorcan. He gazed out on the glorious image of chaos breaking over New York City. The sky burst with the spirits of the Forgotten returning to claim their rightful land.

The transition would not be easy. There would be land wars, sea wars, and countless casualties. The gods, like the humans they often scorned, were no strangers to violence, and Delano found little in life more invigorating than a good, bloody battle. He was more than happy to observe from his quiet perch as the world tore itself apart below him.

These were joys he had once shared with Lord Lorcan. Now, he indulged in them alone. For the time being anyway.

Outside, another fracture tore open in the firmament. Delano watched a creature force its way out of the asphalt, testing the strength of the realm’s boundaries. He was sure the puny humans were perishing already. Some of them could be kept as slave labor or entertainment, of course, but so many would fall in this first wave of violence.

His thoughts turned to the girl with the Gladius Solis. What a wonderful addition she could have been.

But Lord Lorcan had allowed his own supreme confidence to overthrow his former good sense. His plans became too grandiose, too noticeable. With every iota of attention Lorcan received, the more his ego grew, until he was convinced he could do no wrong. Thus had begun his foolhardy scheme to take Manhattan.

Thus was the arrogance of the gods.

Still, Lorcan had not deserved to be murdered in cold blood by that girl. He had been a great and powerful god, struck down by a combination of poor judgment and unchecked hubris. The loss would be felt far and wide among the Forgotten, and it was up to Delano to mend the hole Lorcan’s untimely death had caused. But for now, every creature that was once confined to Carcerum saw Lorcan’s death as an opportunity.

Fortunately, the Apprenti had had the presence of mind to preserve something from his master, something which could potentially be used to reintroduce Lorcan’s power. It was sitting inside a pressurized case in the desk drawer. Delano still had yet to sit. He felt wrong in the chair that was meant for Lorcan, a usurper on a dark throne.

As he gazed up at the approaching madness, Delano thought of how sweet the future looked in that moment, a dark one full of struggle, pain, and chaos. The kind of future where a man like Lorcan could rule with an iron fist… if only he had lived.

A frown crept over Delano’s face. The loss of his master left a bitter taste in his mouth. He was not one to be easily consumed by the idea of vengeance, and yet, he felt Lorcan’s death needed to be cut into the balance of things in order to make it right.

But how?

He was lost in those nefarious, scheming plots when the creak of the door brought him back to the present. He turned, ready to flay alive the person who would intrude upon his grief, but the beauty wrapped in chains gave him pause.

The fallen goddess, Lysiani.

Next to her was a vampire with a slightly dazed look on his face. “Sorry to disturb you, sir, but the lady here wished to speak with you.”

The vampire was clearly under her spell. Delano considered ending him then and there, but patience took over. Instead, he waved the fool away and moved to speak to his new guest.

The harpy goddess looked as though she had taken a whirlwind tour through Hell. Her skin was smudged and marred by healing wounds, her hair was tangled, and her clothes were torn. But clearly, she had regained enough of her old power to influence Lorcan’s servants. And now, she was coming to try her hand with him.

She stumbled forward and leaned on the wall with one slender arm, her gaze roving around the room. Despite her raw appearance, she was still lovely. Even the shackles around her feet and wings were like jewelry on a queen.

“Is it true?” she whispered, her voice like ragged silk in the quiet of the office. “Lorcan is gone?”

Delano bowed his head. “I am afraid so, Lysiani. Fallen victim to his own pride, he too was unable to defeat the girl who wields the sword.”

Insulted, Lysiani sniffed. “I should like to see you fight her,” she replied.

He cocked his head. “What is it you want?”

“Revenge, freedom, love,” she purred and began fingering one of her chains. “Which of these could you offer me?”

“And what makes you think I can offer you any? I am but an Apprenti—a servant without a master.” As he spoke, Delano realized the truth of those words for the first time.

“There is no longer need for false humility. With Lorcan’s death, all of his assets have passed to you.” She smiled seductively. “Including me.”

“If that’s so,” he said, pacing back around the desk, “then why give you anything? You are mine to do with as I please—a bird in a cage. What do you offer in return?”

She shuffled forward, swaying as she moved. “Revenge. Freedom. Love. Even in chains, I am not without my power.”

Delano smiled. There was a rumor that even Lorcan once succumbed to Lysiani’s charms. Alone in this room, he could begin to see why.

But Delano was not Lorcan, nor was he one of the hordes of mortals who once threw themselves at Lysiani’s feet. He could see right through her. See the greed and arrogance and weakness.

Why was it that everyone he encountered suffered from the same vices? Kronin. Lorcan. The girl with her sword and the humans she fought to save. Perhaps that was why the world always lacked order. It lacked a king without pride.

Still, maybe her words held a grain of truth—a pearl hidden among the muck.

He turned to look out the window, and it was then, with his pale face reflected in the glass, that Delano made a decision.

“Lorcan left me another gift upon his death,” Delano said, smiling indulgently. “Would you like to see it?”

“Please,” she said, but he barely heard her.

He walked around the desk and stood where Lorcan used to stand. In front of him was the large silver case. Delano opened it and showed it to his prisoner.

Lysiani’s pink lips made a round, awestruck O. “Is that what I think it is?” she breathed.

“The last of Lord Lorcan’s blood.” He lifted one of the vials into the light. The fluid inside shone like garnet. “I’ve always admired the myriad ways you gods recruited followers. Blood. Sex. Sacrifice. There’s a beauty in it—an elegance that cannot be denied.”

Lysiani crept around the desk toward him, eyeing the vial in his hand. “I know a thing or two about beauty. It requires balance. Too much of a good thing can be deadly.”

Delano smiled then sat in his master’s chair. “This world has had its fill of beauty. Maybe death is all that it now needs.” As he spoke, he drew blood from the vial with a syringe. Without pause, he plunged the needle into his neck—the blood burned as it flooded his veins. For humans, the change took days.

But Delano was no human—the reaction was different for him. And he was no longer an Apprenti either. He was something more.

Lysiani jumped back in fright, but it was no use. He leapt out of the chair, grabbing her by the throat and throwing her on the desk.

Her eyes opened wide with fear as Delano leaned in close.

“What—what are you doing?” Her voice was barely a whimper.

Delano smiled, two long fangs protruding from his once-perfect smile.

“There is something you can provide me, goddess.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out except for a weak cry. “What?”

“Your life.”

Outside, the rain of gods continued to fall long after Lysiani’s screams had faded into silence. Delano, alone now, returned to his chair.

There were still joys worth sharing in this world.

Author Notes CM Raymond

April 16, 2018

Dear Readers,

It’s a busy month around the Raymond house. Finishing books, filing taxes, and getting ready for some international travel!

Traveling is something I’ve always loved, whether it’s a few counties away or in a distant land. One of the perks of being a professor for the day job is that I teach a course in Italy on the Italian system of higher education. (Rough gig, right?) This is my third time going, so while foreign, the sights, sounds, and tastes(!) are familiar.

But after each trip, since the university is already paying to send my ass overseas, I stick around for a bit, and Mrs. Raymond joins me for a little getaway. We’ve seen the mountains of Austria, met up on the Pont des Arts, walked the streets of Portugal, and drank dark beer in the cafes of Prague (among other places).

This time, we wanted to explore someplace even more unfamiliar, so we book the dear wife a ticket for Ljubljana, Slovenia. Look it up. I had to!

The country looks beautiful (on the screen) with stunning castles, crystal blue lakes, and green-carpeted mountains. I can’t wait!!

Travel for me isn’t much different than writing in a weird way… and especially like writing Forgotten Gods. The Urban Fantasy world is SO much fun because the settings and characters are, to the untrained eye, much like the people and places in our world.

But when you look closer, when you move further in, the fantastic appears! And really, that’s what we hope is happening for you as you ride the Forgotten Gods train further and further in. We’re at the end of the first arc. It’s been a blast… But the Forgotten only knows what lies ahead.

Thanks for joining us in the journey, and we hope you stay as we find out what in the world is going to happen to Vic, Maya, Deacon, Marcus, and the rest of the characters of this emerging world.

Want to see a past character come back in a future book (Brax… of course!), come join the Forgotten Gods Facebook group and let us know: https://www.facebook.com/groups/ForgottenGodsBooks/

Or drop at the end of a review for this book on Amazon!

Time to run! The gods are descending!

Ciao,

Chris

PS: Did we mention reviews are amazing, and they really, really help?

PPS: Did I mention that I’ve gotten better at groveling since I’ve become a writer?

PPPS: Sign up here for all our news: https://www.subscribepage.com/smokeandsteelnews

Author Notes LE Barbant

April 16, 2018

Hello my Forgotten Friends,

We made it! Lorcan is dead and all’s right with the world.

Well, not exactly (geeze Delano, calm down). But don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of more books to figure that out.

Book 4 represents the end of a particular writing strategy for team ST Branton and the start of a new one.

When Chris and I started working on Forgotten Gods, we had a vision for a world filled with magic and monsters and gods. But we were afraid that our characters would get lost amidst the noisy fun of worldbuilding. So we decided to take this series in two steps.

Step 1: take it slow and really focus in on our main character.

Step 2: Everything goes sideways.

I think we’ve done pretty well on step 1 (if you agree, you could always go let us know on Amazon). By now, we all know Vic pretty well. We know her history. We know what she’s capable of. And we know where she draws the line. To keep this focus on her, we figured it would be best to change the world slowly. The gods operated in darkness. We’d introduce one god per book and only add in a couple new elements at a time. It meant that most of the world wouldn’t feel different and that Vic’s circle of allies would have to remain small.

But all that is over now. The darkness is dead, time to bring the gods into the light.

You know what they say, when one door closes, another opens. Unfortunately for Vic, that might just be a door to hell.

So anyway, thank you so much for sticking with us through these books. I’ve had a blast working on them, and I can’t wait to show you what’s coming down the pike in Step 2.

For Kronin!

Lee

Gods Of New York

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 5

Prologue

The figure sat alone, the wind whipping her hair as she gazed down upon the burgeoning chaos in the streets. Her yellow eyes narrowed with equal parts malice and amusement. The scene was messy—it almost had to be—but what a beautiful mess it was. The chorus of screams and sirens drifted up, and up, and up.

It would only get worse from there.

“Tahn.”

A smile had begun to curl its way across the woman’s elegant, serpentine features, but it fell at the sound of her name. She unfolded her long, slender limbs, turning to face the newcomer. Though the arrival felt like an intrusion, Tahn had been waiting on her guest. And for once, her guest was right on time.

“Rocca.” Tahn forced the smile back onto her face. “Thank you for coming.”

Rocca scowled. She towered over her slender associate, her shadow stretching on the roof behind her. At her waist, a heavy chain weighed down her belt. Its links were struck through with veins of scarlet. A pair of horns began just behind her temples, curving out to twin vicious points. She leveled them at the other woman now. “What do you want, snake? Make it quick. I’m here to kill Lorcan.”

Tahn laughed. Slow as always, the poor, stupid devil. “You’re too late. Lorcan is dead.”

Insult gleamed in Rocca’s eyes. She blew out a seething breath. “I thought we agreed he was mine!” The chain rattled in her clenched fist.

“You misunderstand me, dear Rocca… again. I’m not the one who killed him.” Tahn glanced down into the teeming streets. “It is as I warned you. The threats here are numerous, even to those who would call themselves gods. That little plan of which you were so proud was a fool’s errand, doomed to fail.” Tahn’s lip curled again. A forked tongue lashed at the edges of her teeth. She could feel Rocca’s rage building behind her like the heat of a well-stoked fire.

“You know nothing of my plans,” growled the giant, shaking her heavy horns. Her fists clenched at her side. Anyone else would have been quaking before her might, but this slippery lowlife simply sat there, reveling in a quiet sense of superiority. Infuriating.

This time, as Tahn gazed at Rocca, the grin was real, and it was mocking. “Oh, please,” she hissed. “Your darling pets won’t be enough to secure a location like this. They’ll be crushed beneath the heels of others. We’re hardly the only ones with eyes on such a splendid city.” The tongue flashed. “I hear that Beleza is planning to make an entrance. You know how he is.”

It was Rocca’s turn to laugh heartily. She settled into a wide sneer. “If Beleza dares to show that pretty face, I’ll rip it off his skull. It’s almost too bad you won’t be here to see it!” On the last word, she released the force of all the pent-up fury that had been building since she heard that Lorcan’s death had been stolen from her. The chain threw up a fountain of sparks as she dragged it over the concrete roof, winding up for what she intended to be a killing blow. She’d had enough of Tahn’s smugness.

She’d had enough of all of them.

The great chain cracked through the air, descending in a clean, brutal line toward Tahn’s upturned face. For a moment, the yellow eyes watched without a trace of emotion. Then they were gone with the rest of her. Rocca’s killing blow struck nothing but air and the edge of a roof above New York City. When she realized she’d been had, she let out a bellow of indignation and spun around, searching for the source of the trickery. The end of the chain trailed out over a hundred-story drop.

All she heard was an echoing cackle being swept away by the wind. Nothing more.

Rocca threw her head back and clenched her teeth. “Is that the way you want it, Tahn?” she rumbled to herself. “So be it.” One massive fist raised her chain toward the churning sky, and a crack appeared among the clouds. Rocca watched the dark void widen.

Her minions, crowded on the other side, spilled forth in a red and burning torrent. No matter what Tahn wanted anyone to believe, everything was still happening according to careful design.

A cruel smirk touched Rocca’s mouth. “You may have taken Lorcan,” she whispered, “but soon, I’ll take the rest.”

Chapter One

I craned my neck back, blinking, the glare of the sun only intensified by the towering shadow of the FBI precinct behind us. We had just left the frying pan, and now the crisp air smelled like fire. After almost thirty years spent roaming the streets of New York City, I thought I’d seen some shit. But this? This was something else.

“You’re seeing this, right?” Deacon pulled up beside me, catching his breath. “It’s not just me?”

“When was it ever ‘just you?’” I asked, giving him some side-eye I knew he could feel. “Last I checked, it was always just me.”

He chuckled wryly and shook his head. “Yeah, well, I guess I owe you a drink or ten after this is all over.” Squinting up at the widening vortex in the sky, he grimaced. “If there are any bars left.”

“Are you kidding me, man?” Now I was the one shaking my head. My hand dropped to the familiar heavy hilt in my bag. “The end of the freaking world is a bar in New York City.” And with that, I drew my weapon. The blade burst to life, its heat radiating down into my palm. I took a deep breath.

Now or never, Vic. Now or never.

As streams of fleeing pedestrians buffeted me on every side, I pressed against the living current toward the center of the fray. My heart pounded in my chest. Hell surrounded me, but I willed my feet to keep moving. I’m the one with the Gladius Solis. I have to do this.

“Hey!” Deacon’s voice, harsh and slightly panicked, snapped me out of it. “What are you doing, woman?!” He grabbed my shoulder and yanked backward until I almost stumbled into him. “Damn, Vic, I knew you were crazy but not this crazy!” He made a wide, sweeping gesture encompassing a panorama of pandemonium. “This is what we at the Bureau like to call a suicide mission. And I am not about to let you take it on.”

I frowned deeply because he was right, and that conflicted with my convictions that I was the one making the correct choice. Maybe it wasn’t pretty, but reality rarely was. “All these people need me, Deacon. They need this.” I brandished the burning sword with a practiced little flourish. “If I don’t go in there, who knows how many people are going to die? Hundreds? Thousands? Millions?” I tried to take a step away from him. He held fast. I’d forgotten how damn strong he was.

“And what happens after you get outnumbered and killed?” he retorted. “Look, V, you got skills. No use denying that. And you got… something else, too. Whatever it is that landed you neck-deep in this mess. But you’re still just one person, all right? You can’t take on an army of these bastards by yourself. Look at them!” He pointed at the shapes pouring out from the gap in the sky.

“Oh, trust me,” I said. “I see them.” I recognized a lot of them, too—or at least, I knew what they were. The horns, the charred skin, the fiery chain brands—they had to be Marked. On a reflex, I felt my neck for the reassuring weight of Marcus’s pendant. It wasn’t there. Just for a second, panic made my chest seize up. Then I remembered—I’d left him with Maya. A gigantic sigh of relief slackened my shoulders.

“What?” Deacon glanced at me keenly. “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head to clear it. “Nothing. I don’t feel good about this, Deacon. I feel like I’m failing all these people. Millions of people. ” I wanted to help, and in the moment, turning tail felt like the exact opposite of what I should do. The longer we stood there, however, the worse our odds became.

“You know what you’re doing?” he said. “Look at me, Vic. You’re surviving. Failure would be to die right here, right now. We can’t help anyone like this. Besides, I think you’ll feel pretty good about staying alive in the long run.” He gestured for me to get moving. “Come on. We stay here any longer, it’s not going to matter.”

“You’re right.” I sighed and repeated the words, hoping to convince myself. “You’re right. Let’s go.”

He whipped around, heading straight for the subterranean maw of the nearest subway station. “I know I shouldn’t be taking this for granted, but it feels real weird to have you agreeing with me.”

“Don’t get used to it!” I shouted over our footsteps. “Consider these extenuating circumstances!” All of a sudden, my voice was smothered by echoes, and I shut my mouth. A chill ran up my spine. The next thing I said was in a whisper. “Why is it so quiet down here?” I would’ve thought the trains would be working overtime, screaming down the tracks as half the city scrambled to evacuate.

But there was only a thick, nearly palpable silence. Once more, I felt for Marcus’s pendant and found nothing. The whole atmosphere was strange and wrong.

“I hope this doesn’t mean they’ve gotten further than we thought,” Deacon muttered. He dropped back a little to walk beside me. “We can’t have lost the trains. We’ve already lost the cops.”

I looked at him, remembering our harried escape from the FBI building. “It’s like that everywhere?”

He ran his hand over the top of his head. “It pains me to say so, but if the feds have been infiltrated, there’s no other possible reality. I only wish I knew the numbers, the ranks. Right now, there’s no telling how deep this rabbit hole goes. The only thing I can say for sure is that we can’t trust anyone in a uniform. Not agents. Not police. Hell, not even military.” His brow furrowed down into a grimace. “This is bad, Vic. It’s real bad. But I guess you don’t need me to tell you that.”

I laughed. “No, I certainly don’t. And the shittiest part of it all is I don’t know much more than you do. Obviously, these assholes are done playing their cards close to their vests, but I’ve got no idea which gods are here, or what they’re planning to do except wreck shop. Which blows because we need a strategy.”

“We’ve been needing a strategy, apparently,” Deacon said. A sour note rang in his voice. “But how were we supposed to prepare for this?” He heaved a sigh. “Part of me just wants to say fuck it, you know? Like, who cares if they have names? Who cares what their plan is? You got that big-ass sword; can’t you just use it to carve them to pieces?”

“Says the guy who stopped me from doing exactly that five minutes ago.” I elbowed him in the ribs. “But honestly, it’s better that you did. Fighting gods isn’t as easy as it sounds.” He snorted. “Even before you get to the point where they can crush you or vaporize you or turn you into a vamp, you need to find them first. And that’s easier said than done.”

“It can’t ever be simple or easy, huh?” Deacon grinned, placing his hands behind his head and gazing straight forward into the pitch-black tunnel. In a weird way, it was kind of nice to be walking with him, just the two of us. It felt like we’d reached an unspoken turning point, like we were finally on even ground. What’s more, we were there together. No more constantly butting heads. No more yelling.

Okay, maybe some yelling.

“It’d be stupid to go into battle without knowing the enemy, right?” I wiped the slowly forming smile off my face and forced myself to get back to business. “We’ve just established that we don’t know shit, so we can’t really fight without a massive handicap.” I gnawed on my bottom lip. “That is, assuming fighting is even the answer.”

Deacon stopped walking for an instant so he could process what he’d heard. “I’m sorry, did you say it could be a bad idea to fight? You? Who am I talking to?” He turned and inspected me, playing up his incredulity to a fault. “I’m too late. You’ve already been corrupted.”

“Oh my God.” I swatted him away, smiling in spite of myself. “Shut up and hear me out. Do you remember when we were up in Washington with the werewolves?”

“I remember someone tying me to a motel bed and leaving me for dead,” he answered. His face was stone straight.

I rolled my eyes. “I did not leave you for dead, jackass. You’re here now, aren’t you?” Without giving him an opportunity to respond, I forged ahead. “Anyway, listen. We killed the hell out of Lupres, and this is still happening. We killed Lorcan, and this is still happening. If they’re smart about it, it won’t matter who we kill. I’m afraid their grand plan, whatever it is, is already in motion.”

Deacon threw up his hands. “Then what are we still doing here? I don’t understand enough about this situation to disagree with you, and everything you’re saying makes it seem like total insanity to stay in the city. Because if it turns out you’re right, and you’ve got a decent track record so far, then nothing we do right now is going to matter in the long run.”

“You think it’s hopeless.” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my voice. It wasn’t fair of me to expect total trust and cooperation from Deacon, even considering everything he’d witnessed on the surface. I was lucky the reality of it all hadn’t broken his mind outright. But we had already weathered so much of this journey together. He knew a lot. He was a valuable ally.

And he was growing on me.

“That’s not what I said.” Deacon spoke quietly now, deep in thought. “It’s just, not every storm has an eye, Vic. I think the best thing to do is to get out while we can. Try to regroup somewhere else. Maybe gain a new perspective. Gather our troops.”

On the surface, the idea didn’t appeal to me. It was hard to reconcile abandoning the battle when it was only getting started. Still, the limits of my power were more evident than they’d ever been. What did I have—a sword and a faster, stronger body? Even I was prepared to admit I needed more than that.

“Let’s say we get out,” I told him reluctantly. “Then what? We rally and come back when we know we can kill them? What happens if we’re too late? What if New York is gone by then?”

Deacon glanced away. “All things are possible,” he admitted. “I mean, look at us. But where would we be if we didn’t have faith in something, anything right now? I’m choosing to believe in you. I’m holding on to that.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, stealing a few seconds in the deep quiet to mull things over. Our options were staggeringly few, and the more I considered things, the more I found myself agreeing with Deacon’s line of reasoning. As we were, we would be steamrolled by the battalions literally falling from the sky.

“Okay,” I said, inhaling a deep breath. “We’ll hit the road for now. But not without Maya and Jules.” I paused. “And Marcus, obviously.” My eyes snapped wide, and I wheeled around to stare at Deacon. “Wait. Jules! Was she in the building we escaped from?!” A surge of adrenaline pumped through my veins. I was ready to run all the way back there, no matter who or what stood in my way.

Deacon put his hands on my shoulders. “Settle down, Vic. I know where she is. I got her out of custody before I showed up to spring you. She’s with Maya. And yes, Maya’s still got your necklace.”

“Where?” I demanded, staring him down. “Where are they?”

“It’s a place I know. A safehouse. They’re fine. Trust me on this.”

I breathed in again, held it for a bit until I felt myself begin to cool down. “Sorry,” I said, somewhat sheepish. “I got scared for a sec. I thought I left Jules behind.”

“Don’t worry.” Deacon gave me a smile. “I’ve got your back. Don’t you forget that.”

“Thanks.” I made myself smile back. It was easier than I expected. “I won’t.”

Deacon looked down the tunnel. “That being said, it’s probably time for a reunion. Something tells me we don’t have time to waste.” He palmed his cell phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it into the inky darkness. A broken ladder spidered up the wall on our right. “First door we see, we’re going through it. We need to get back to the street.”

I began scanning the shadows, looking for anything that might let us crawl back to the surface. The next proper station was still pretty far, and I was getting sick of the silence. Any moment now, I expected to be blinded by the glare of a light, deafened by the clatter of wheels on rickety tracks. It was only a matter of time before that hot stinking wind swept down the platform, heralding the arrival of a train, any train. I was so sure, but it never happened. The underground was deserted except for me and Deacon.

Then the silence was broken by a shuffling sound. heavy footfalls on concrete. The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I clutched my sword until my knuckles went white. The blade’s persistent glow wavered in front of me.

“Did you hear that?” I whispered to Deacon. The noise came another time, closer, approaching from behind. He nodded, swung his light around, and froze in his tracks. A look of chagrined recognition filled his face.

“Shit.”

Chapter Two

Deacon nodded over his shoulder, his hand on my arm. “I think someone’s here to crash our party.”

I followed his gaze, and the surge of adrenaline resurfaced. On the subway stairs behind us, silhouetted against the light streaming down from the surface, a cluster of figures moved in our direction. There was something disturbingly familiar about the grey-white undertone to their skin and the fevered light in their eyes. Deacon’s words from a few minutes before suddenly came crashing back into my head. We’ve already lost the cops.

“Vamps,” I said under my breath. Then, louder, as the realization sank in, “Those are vamps!” The front of the group halted in their advance, staring directly at me.

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure they heard you!” Deacon spun me around. “Let’s go!” My gaze lingered backward just long enough to see the vamps start their charge. Deacon and I had put some distance between ourselves and the subway entrance, but these creeps were unsettlingly fast, like roaches.

“They’re gaining!” I yelled, without needing to look. The rapid beat of their shoes on the concrete was closing in.

“Then get ready to turn!” Deacon shouted back. He shot a glance at me and made a motion toward the empty rails with his left hand. Under normal circumstances, I would’ve thought he’d lost his mind, but right then, we were in no position to argue about it. Not to mention, faced with a brigade of vampire cops, the possibility of a subway train quickly became the least of my worries.

Sword in hand, I leapt off the access path on the side, into the realm of dirt and grime that lay hidden under New York’s transit system. The stench of stale urine assaulted my senses, and I screwed up my whole face on reflex even as I turned on my back foot to meet the enemy. The sword’s fiery light washed their sallow complexions in orange-yellow tones, lighting their eyes from underneath. Somewhere to my left, I heard the distinctive cocking of a gun. “All right,” Deacon said, his voice as calm as the surface of a mountain lake. “Cut ‘em up.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice.

I met the first cop as he hopped down into the track bed. The hilt of the Gladius Solis twirled lazily in my hand. My man in blue had half a second to size me up before his head went flying back toward the platform, the wound in his severed neck cauterizing instantly. Up close, I observed that the uniform draped over his gaunt frame had seen better days; it was torn in places, stained with blood and other mysterious vile substances. He reeked, and the scent of death didn’t mix well with trash and old pee.

“Keep moving,” Deacon called to me. “I’ll cover you. Don’t ever put your back to a wall.” Sharp cracks from his gun punctuated his words. Each muzzle flash lit the interior of the tunnel like bolts of localized lightning. I used those and the persistent ambient glow of my sword to get a better read on where the vamps were. Deacon was correct, especially within the narrower confines of the tracks. If I gave up the positional high ground, we’d both be shit out of luck.

“Kind of wish Marcus was here,” I muttered under my breath. Another crack-flash combo seared through the dank underground air. One of the vamps went spinning backward, spine folding over the edge of dirty concrete. I used the opening his body left to get in the middle of his colleagues and run the edge of my blade in an unrelenting circle. As usual, flesh and bone offered no resistance. After the bodies had fallen to drifts of dust, I drew the sword up and rammed the butt of it straight behind me. The heavy hilt smashed home, and I heard a satisfying thud. Something else, too: the telltale rush of undead flesh melting into piles of ash. To Deacon, I yelled, “How many do you see?”

“Less than they want you to think. Keep going!” He aimed and fired, aimed and fired, like a well-oiled machine. I drew burning arcs in the dark. Vamp ash scattered all around my feet. It clung to my clothes and hair. I tried to keep it out of my mouth but failed.

“I’m gonna need a gallon of Listerine after this,” I said.

Deacon’s assessment of numbers turned out to be more or less accurate. Within the span of a few minutes, the throng was thinning. Part of me had expected a much larger force, but they were probably either caught up in the melee on the surface or gathering like a tsunami for a single overwhelming strike. The second thought made beads of sweat start forming under my shirt. I whirled, both hands on the sword. Two cops, one on either side, fell to the ground in sync, utterly bisected.

They left the last of the group standing alone in front of me. He grinned and cracked his knuckles. We rushed each other at the same time. His pale, clammy fingers reached for my throat, but I saw it coming a mile away. Ducking beneath his outstretched arm, I dug the tip of the Gladius Solis into his gut, twisted the blade, and followed through in an upward sweep. A fine mist of red floated down on me.

After that, sheer quiet reigned again.

“Think you’re getting better with that thing,” Deacon remarked.

“Thanks!” I allowed myself the luxury of a quick grin. “I’m hoping the gods will have the courtesy to be impressed while I kill them.”

Deacon laughed. The sound was pleasant, but short-lived, drowned out by a rattling screech we both could’ve identified in our sleep. My eyes cut from his face to the depth of shadows inside the tunnel. A faint light splashed along the wall. Its ragged edges danced wildly, and its colors matched the sword in my hand.

“Holy shit,” Deacon murmured. “That train’s on fire.”

Right on cue, the car careened around the bend onto the straightaway, wheels screaming like a city-funded demon. Flames shot from the windows and licked at the roof. An oppressive wall of heat washed over me.

“We gotta go. We gotta go now!” I hauled my ass up onto the narrow access path, booking it on Deacon’s heels and hoping we’d figure out an escape before the train caught up, which gave us approximately twenty seconds by my amateur calculations. The horrible racket only grew louder, amplifying itself in the subway chamber. “Tell me you see something!” I hollered. The voice of the oncoming train dwarfed my own.

But suddenly, Deacon skidded to a stop, and the shape of an access door slipped into view. He wrenched it open with both hands, biceps straining in his sleeves. “Get in!” His voice sounded muffled and far away. I darted past him over the threshold. The heat was becoming unbearable. Fumes from fuel smoke and burning oil stung the inside of my nose. Briefly, the train’s awful scream was all I could hear.

Then Deacon slammed the door. We stood nearly chest to chest in a small alcove, the walls of which trembled before the might of that blazing train. My blade had gone out in the mad rush—it was pitch black in there. Only the sound of Deacon’s heavy breathing provided any sort of orientation.

“You good?” he asked after the noise of the train had died off in the distance. “All in one piece?” His voice, as deep and smooth as ever, resonated right into my ear. I refused to let myself shiver.

“Yeah. You?” He was so close that a blush crept up my neck unbidden. So glad neither of us can see for shit right now.

“As far as I can tell. There’s a ladder somewhere on the wall behind you. We climb it, it’ll take us back to the street. Where on the street, I’m not quite sure, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

I stepped away from him with my hand out until my palm struck a damp, hard surface. A foot to the left, my fingers found the side of a ladder, and two seconds later, I was on my way up. The ladder brought me to a small room with a door that opened on the ground level of a station a few blocks from where we’d entered the system.

“You ready for this?”

Deacon didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Already, more noise spilled down the stairs ahead of us. We broke into a jog, taking the steps two at a time.

The scene on the street stood in stark contrast to the abandoned subway. The road in front of us was jammed full of traffic. Horns blared a harsh and constant symphony. Many of the cars were already empty, and huge numbers of people swarmed around them on foot. Safety glass crunched in every direction. I could see packs of looters bashing in plate-glass storefronts, breaking open security grates. Countless alarms whooped in my ears.

It was total pandemonium. Any semblance of order had fled when the sky opened up. A band of satyrs strutted past me, their cloven hooves in full view, firing automatic bursts into the air.

“Fuck,” I said to no one in particular. “Fuck!” My head felt light and crushingly heavy all at once. Everything around me was descending into chaos. “Hey!” I whipped around, pointing my sword at some punk carrying the register out through the busted-up front of a nearby bodega. “Put that back.”

“Screw you, lady!” the kid answered. “Can’t you see it’s a damn free-for-all out here? Eat or be eaten!”

I grimaced, closing the distance between us in one smooth pounce. The Gladius Solis hovered below his chin, toasting the skin of his throat. “Put it back, jackass. Now.”

His eyes widened as he realized I was wielding a flaming sword. “What the fuck, lady?”

“Now!” The register dropped to the sidewalk. “Good enough. Go home. Lock your doors. Don’t come out until you hear it’s safe.” The kid gave me and the blade one last disbelieving look and hightailed it into the teeming crowds. I hefted the register and stepped over the window frame to replace it on the counter.

“Come on, Vic.” I looked up to see Deacon watching me with a gaze that was understanding but firm. “We can’t stay here. The sooner we get to the safe house, the sooner we can start figuring out where the hell we go from here.”

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair. There was no time to feel overwhelmed, or to waste on trying to stem the tide of petty crime. I had to get my priorities straight. First on the list: Maya and Jules.

“Focus, Vic,” I told myself. “You can do this.”

Victoria!

“Marcus?” He was faint, and the words that came after my name were garbled, like a radio set to a scrambled channel. But there was no mistaking that voice, and simply hearing it gave me the shot of motivation I desperately needed.

“What?” Deacon scanned the area. “Where?”

“No, I heard him!” I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I spoke a response out loud just in case. “Hey, Marcus? We’re on our way, okay? Tell Jules and Maya to sit tight. We’ll be there soon.” With that, I turned to Deacon. “How do we do this?”

He was frowning at his phone. “The cellular networks are overloaded. First thing I need to do is find somewhere to make a call.”

“Then what?” We began to move, shouldering our way against the flow of the maddened masses. I kept my eyes glued to the outline of Deacon’s broad shoulders, for fear of losing track of him.

“Then we head for the park. From there, it should be easy.”

Those were famous last words if ever I’d heard any. But I chose to put my faith in Deacon St. Clare.

At the moment, he was the best I had.

Chapter Three

“Over there!” Deacon pointed over the crowds, and I followed the direction of his finger toward a bank of payphones on the opposite side of the street. “I’m gonna need you to stand watch while I do this.”

I grinned, even though he could barely see me. “Oh, I’m suddenly your bodyguard? I don’t think I get paid enough for that.”

Ignoring me, he waded across the street, diplomatically shouldering his way through panicked pedestrians. I braced the unlit hilt of the Gladius Solis against my forearm to follow suit. More than once, glimpses of figures that seemed a little less than human got caught in my peripheral vision, but they were there and gone so quickly I barely had time to turn my head.

When I reached Deacon at the phones, I leaned in and whispered, “This is bad. It’s worse than I thought.”

He gave me a look and gestured at the pandemonium behind us. “Worse than this? Because this is a damn sorry state of affairs. I haven’t seen anything like it since September of 2001.” He glanced around before slinging the phone off its hook. “Didn’t think I’d ever see it again. Or maybe I just hoped I wouldn’t.” Change jingled in his pocket as he fished for a couple of quarters. Then he started dialing, and I turned away, back toward the city.

New York City had never been beautiful to me in the traditional sense, but it was always home. And now that my home was under immeasurable threat, a surge of protectiveness was welling up inside me like I had never felt before. All those years of searching for my parents’ killer and my place in the world had finally brought me to this stretch of sidewalk, watching demons pour from the skyward mouth of hell.

The situation was bad any way we looked at it, but I couldn’t give up. The fight was far from over, and we had to keep moving the only way we could. We’d claw our way to the top. We’d snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. It was the only way I knew how to live now, and I wasn’t going to back down anytime soon.

In Marcus’s absence, I was having to learn how to give my own pep talks. I was also realizing how much I missed his constant chatter in my ears. People in crisis together often formed deeper, faster bonds, and I guessed that was true even if one of them was technically dead.

I cut my eyes toward Deacon again, checking on his progress with the pay phone. He stood with the receiver to his ear, looking frustrated. I pulled my own cell out of my pocket and thumbed in the first number I thought of. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Deacon. We’d gotten beyond that at this point. No one in their right mind would wrestle quarters into a public phone unless they absolutely had to.

I just really wanted to hear Jules’s voice.

The other end didn’t cough up so much as a single ring. I listened to dead air for about ten seconds before giving up and sliding the device back into my pocket. Everyone who ran by us seemed to have the same idea—with about the same level of success. Whenever I tuned back in to the general roar of the public, most of what I heard were voices screaming into walls of bad connection. No doubt, the networks had long since crashed. Forgotten energy probably wreaked havoc on our measly Earth technology.

Again, I thought of Marcus, knowing he’d have something to say about that. I hoped he and Maya were taking good care of each other. A little smile jumped onto my face. She would probably argue with him less than I did.

The sound of the old phone clattering back into the cradle shook me out of my thoughts. “We’re set,” Deacon said from behind me. “I got a friend meeting us in the arboretum in the park. I don’t think he’ll wait for long.”

“How many mysterious friends do you have?” I asked half-jokingly as he pulled into the lead. We stepped off the curb onto the pavement, and instinct forced me to look both ways. The road was choked more or less completely by the never-ending flow of foot traffic that didn’t break for cars as much as it simply encompassed them. Clusters of abandoned vehicles littered the way, their lights on, doors open, windows smashed. The shrill wail of alarm systems rang through the hazy air.

“Enough to save our asses, I hope,” Deacon answered. He kept his own gaze fixed straight ahead, maybe to prevent himself from becoming overwhelmed by the scene. I couldn’t blame him, but at the same time, it was impossible to tear my focus away. Thousands of people swarmed every open space, fleeing from a force they couldn’t understand. And I, the one who could fight against this threat, was fleeing too.

I’m doing this to help you, I thought, wishing for the first time in my life that it was possible to broadcast my feelings. I promise. I’m not leaving you behind.

In the next instant, I saw something so strange I thought I must have been hallucinating. The mass of living, running, shouting bodies in front of me swelled like a tsunami, breaking apart under the force of a shockwave that rolled down the street. We all sort of crushed into one another. Deacon’s shoulders tipped back into me. He reached back to grab for my arm. “What the hell was that?”

“I have no—” I didn’t need to finish the sentence. The wave reached us at full strength, and suddenly, we were all fighting each other to stay on our feet. To fall would have meant getting trampled to death beneath the fear-fueled stampede. Someone plowed straight into me, knocking the breath from my lungs.

“Vic!” Deacon shouted. I was dimly aware of him reaching out, but I couldn’t have answered if I wanted to. The sight of a new god had stunned me into total silence. All the sounds faded into a monotonous background hum. I no longer felt the hands and feet shoving me around. All I saw was the bronzed silhouette of a monument come to life as it strode purposefully down the center of the boulevard.

“Who the hell is that?” I wasn’t asking anyone in particular, but the words fell out of my mouth of their own accord. Deacon, who had managed to squeeze his way in front of me, grabbed my shoulders.

“Get it together, Vic!” he demanded. “Don’t scare me like that. Thought I lost you for a second.” He kept a hand on my arm as he finally turned around himself to see what I was gawking at. “Just when you think you’ve seen it all. Now we gotta deal with this buck naked colossus?”

“Behold, New York Citadel!” The titan’s voice was sonorous and resonating, booming out over the chaos he had created. “Rejoice, for your savior Beleza has arrived!” Beaming, he cocked his head to the side as if listening to screams of adulation.

“He’s going to flatten everyone,” I said. “We have to get in there and take him down. I’m not leaving if there’s a god right in my face. I can’t do that.” My grip tightened on the Gladius Solis.

At first, Deacon looked pained, but his expression quickly gave way to resolute determination. “Well, I can’t talk you out of this, so I’m not even gonna try. But if he falls, the flattening is still going to happen.” Deacon’s eyes darted around. The gears in his head turned furiously. “If there’s a way to clear the area around him…”

It didn’t seem likely. The god stood high over everyone else, but even he couldn’t claim much personal space. There just wasn’t enough room, and the mob was only growing. “I don’t think so,” I told Deacon. “I’m just going to do my best and hope people can get out of the way.” With that, I started to shove forward against the rush of the crowd.

“Dammit, Vic!” Deacon yelled. “I know I said I wasn’t going to stop you, but at least warn me before you do this shit!” His voice had already muffled by the time he finished speaking. I kept going, brandishing the hilt once more for leverage. Progress was slow, but I could see we were going to meet in the middle.

The closer he got, the taller Beleza became. His skin gleamed even in the acrid smog. A curl of shining metallic hair framed the side of his chiseled face. He looked like he ought to be playing beach volleyball in California somewhere, not laying waste to New York City. The blithe smile on his face betrayed no hint of understanding the situation.

This jackass actually thought we loved him.

He opened his arms in a grandiose gesture of goodwill. “Come to me, my mortal darlings! Bask in Beleza’s glory!” As his muscled arms lifted away from his sides, I saw a flash of more bronzed physiques behind him.

“Great,” I muttered. “An army of clones.” They were smaller than him, closer to normal human size, but still tall and sculpted and shiny. Like him, his army marched forth with wide smiles plastered across their faces. Whatever they thought they were doing, all of them were clearly into it.

But then something caught their attention, and they swiveled in all directions. The dark alleys lining the road—dozens of them—were suddenly alive with humanoid shapes that seemed at a glance to be burning. Bodies streaked with brands of red-hot chain descended onto Beleza and his troops from the shadows, and I realized after a moment of confusion that I’d seen this kind of thing before. The earlier image of the horned woman lifting a chain to the sky flashed through my head.

And then I remembered a face shaded by sunglasses, a torso marred by a chain brand. Was Brax here somewhere?

“Holy shit.” Deacon broke through at my back for the third time in less than ten minutes. “They’re fighting each other.” We stood, boulders amid a raging river, observing the demons and the musclemen tearing into each other.

“Fine by me,” I said. “If they mess each other up, that means I don’t have to. Let’s just leave them to it and get to Central Park.” Deacon nodded, but this time, he was the one who stopped mid-turn. “Wait. Look.”

“What?” I tracked his gaze toward the cars in the street. Some of them had been squashed down by the advance of Beleza’s men, which made it even easier to spot the bus Deacon had seen at the last moment. It was on its side lengthwise, and I could see the shapes of passengers attempting to climb out through the busted windows. “Oh, shit. I have to go.”

“Yeah, I know. Hey, do you think a bullet can still hurt a god?” Deacon shrugged and cocked his gun. “Guess we’re about to find out.” He raised the pistol. “Get in there. I’ll cover you.”

“Thanks.” I plunged toward Beleza’s towering form, careful to keep all thoughts of summoning the blade from surfacing too soon. The crowd began to thin out a little as I finally drew up under his shadow, but quarters were still very close. The god’s path was starting to veer away from the bus as he moved to help his besieged underlings. I saw him throw one of the demons like a fastball. “Note to self: don’t underestimate this guy.”

The bus wasn’t as stable as I would’ve liked, and it was being constantly buffeted on all sides. I hooked my fingers into a handhold on one of the back wheels and leapt upward, landing with a clanging thud on the topmost side. A woman recoiled through one of the shattered windows, yelping in surprise.

I leaned down toward her, my hand outstretched. “Don’t worry, ma’am. I’m one of the good guys.”

Chapter Four

“Who are you?” The woman’s wide, frightened eyes moved from my face to my hand, and back again. She was almost wedged in the window frame, shards of glass glittering on her puffy coat.

I knelt, trying to appear less threatening. The bus trembled under my knee. Most of its passengers were still trapped inside, and I could hear at least a few kids crying. “I’m someone you can trust,” I said, fighting to keep urgency out of my voice. The last thing anyone needed here was more panic, but I knew we were running out of time. That bronze behemoth—Beleza—wasn’t going to stay distracted forever, and a fight out of this mess was going to be tough.

Tough, but not impossible.

“Please.” I kept my eyes on the woman’s face. “We don’t have much longer. I’m going to get all of you somewhere safe. I promise.” What I wanted to do was use my god-sword to cut the bus open and be done with it, but now that I was in point-blank range, that plan was just too risky. I didn’t know if the Gladius Solis could differentiate between a vamp and a regular Joe, and this was not the time to find out.

We were going to have to do this the regular way.

After a tense moment of silence, she finally nodded and released her grip on the busted window. I grabbed her hand and pulled her as gently as possible onto the bus amid a shower of shattered safety glass. “Get down and run. Stay away from the buildings. And once you reach safety, stay put no matter what. Okay?”

“Okay.” She stared at me for a couple of seconds longer, and then the flight reflex took hold at last. The bus creaked and groaned as she scrambled down to the pavement.

I leaned in through the newly empty window, shouting to whoever might be able to hear me. “Grab my hand!” The inside off the vehicle was hazy with dust and traces of smoke that stung my eyes. Crash survivors looked out from where they’d taken refuge from behind the seats. I beckoned them forward. “I’m here to help!”

Slowly, they began to inch forward.

“Go!” I shouted. “Go! Now!” The view directly in front of me cleared as passengers began to force their fear aside and clamber down to the pavement. Some of them jumped, possessions bundled in their arms. I saw a father catch his young son in his arms, clutching the kid as if he was made of solid gold. He ran like a bat out of hell. I reached down and hooked the fingers of my other hand under the bus chassis, straining to keep it from falling on the stragglers.

When I couldn’t see anyone else in its shadow, I slid down the side of the wrecked bus to the street, leaping clear of the sparks jumping off the asphalt. Just feet in front of me, Belaza’s scattered army was beginning to reassemble. The gleaming, muscular figures turned toward me in unison. They were all smooth and smiling.

“Welcome to the freak show,” I muttered. Their general creepiness made my skin crawl in a different way than anything else I’d seen so far. These guys belonged on the pages of a beach-themed catalog or on display in the windows of a department store, and yet, here they were, standing calmly amid the wreckage of the city.

I brought my hand up, summoning the blade of the Gladius Solis at long last. The glow from the sword lit their eyes. A shiver threatened to run through me. Most of the golden god’s ranks were marching on, following the path their leader had carved through the street. Even if I strained, I couldn’t see Beleza himself anymore. Maybe I’d get lucky and these walking mannequins would follow suit.

But before we got a chance to resolve the tension, a wave of chain-branded jerkoffs crashed our little party. The soldiers’ heads all snapped to the side as if they shared one mind. Apparently, the beef from a few minutes earlier hadn’t quite been resolved, and my sword and I weren’t helping matters. I took the ensuing chaos as a sign, leaping forward into the fray. The longer I kept these guys distracted, the farther away people could get. And besides, I needed to get back the way I came.

The Gladius Solis sizzled through the air, chopping through demon flesh and sculpted beach bodies alike. I pushed myself into overdrive, until everything around me slowed just enough for me to stay on top of things. With the help of the sword, I cleared a path, showering the ground with blood and weird, metallic chunks that sort of clanged when they hit the ground. The sound seemed to filter to my ears through a long tunnel. Not sure when it dawned on me that these guys were actually turning into scattered, piecemeal statues. The battlefield morphed into some macabre art installation piece—Guernica, the sequel.

I probably looked like such a badass right then, pirouetting through a field of enemies, sword blazing. Of course, I thought, the one time I look cool as shit, Marcus isn’t here to see it.

But no amount of finesse could turn the numbers in my favor. More of the branded ones poured from every alley, every side street, even from some of the compromised businesses. I saw them climbing over gates and jumping walls. The horde had no end in sight—which meant one thing and one thing only.

I needed to get the hell out of there fast.

After one last satisfyingly flashy spin, I hunkered down and beat it in a dead sprint toward the curb where I had last seen Deacon. For once in his life, the man made it easy for me; he’d climbed the side of a landscaped embankment to avoid firing directly into the masses. Using the flaming sword to signal him, I swerved in the direction of Central Park. As the street gradually became less crowded, my pace decreased. By the time Deacon caught up, we were jogging toward the park.

The first thing he said was, “Do you know that guy?”

I glanced sidelong at him. “What guy?”

He acted like I had just grown another head. “What do you mean, ‘what guy’? The statue-looking mother striding through Manhattan with his junk on display! That guy.” He ran a hand over his hair. “Please tell me you’ve got a way to deal with that because I sure as hell don’t.”

I shook my head in mock disappointment. “Man, what are they teaching you at the FBI these days? I’d have thought you would be locked and loaded for the apocalypse. Or at least an alien invasion.”

“Har har.” For the first time since I met him, Deacon sounded a little shaken, and I felt kind of guilty for messing with him.

“Look, I’ll be honest with you,” I said. “The plan’s been changing more or less on a dime since day one, ‘cause every time I’ve tried to make one, something ended up getting seriously screwed. The odds that we’ll need to wing it at some point are pretty damn high. But at this point, I’m not so bad at working off the cuff, you know? I’ve learned to expect the unexpected. I might not know who that god is yet, but I’ll find out. And when I find out, I’ll find a way to beat him, too.”

“You got a lot of faith for some chick from the streets,” Deacon said. A trace of admiration colored his words.

“It’s not faith as much as guts,” I answered. “Like the ones you’ve got for calling me ‘chick.’” That got him to laugh, which made me feel slightly better.

Compared to the chaotic streets, the interior of the park was eerily tranquil, especially as we drew nearer to the arboretum. A lot of the place looked almost ransacked—benches and garbage cans toppled over, trash strewn across the paths. A tree had fallen up ahead, its gnarled roots sticking up like witch fingers from the dirt.

“Where’s your buddy?” I asked, mostly to break the silence.

Deacon had already put his head on a swivel. He frowned, furrowing his brow. “MIA, apparently.” He led me off the walkway toward a bench half concealed in a thicket of pines. “Let’s just chill here for a minute. He’ll show up soon.”

Given the current state of affairs, it was too hard to hold in my skepticism. “You sure about that?”

“Swear it. Trent wouldn’t ditch.” Deacon planted himself on the seat and leaned back, rubbing both palms over his face. “He better not.”

This time, I managed to hold my tongue and sat down next to him. The light breeze sifting through the arboretum’s canopy still stank faintly of smoke from the disaster areas dotting the vicinity, but the hush was a welcome change. “How are you doing?” I asked. I wanted to sound as caring and genuine as I felt, but to my ears, the words sounded sort of awkward. You know what I mean, I wanted to add.

Deacon sighed deeply. “Good question. I’ve been trying not to ask it all day.”

I chuckled. “Sorry.”

“If someone had told me that I’d be breaking out of my own headquarters with a dozen of my colleagues on my tail, I would have never believed it,” he continued. “Not six months ago, and especially not when I was a kid dressing up as a cop for Halloween.” A grim smile crossed his face. “It’s fucked up, right? This used to be my dream job, working out of that exact building, solving cases, busting bad guys. The whole deal.” He shook his head, staring at the grass between his feet. “I can’t believe we’re here right now.”

I sucked my breath in through my teeth. “I’m sorry, Deacon.” Somehow, this second apology seemed hollow than the first.

He barely acknowledged it. “But in some weird way, I feel so damn stupid. Because I’ve always known what kind of world this is.” My ears pricked up in surprise until he continued. “I know none of us are perfect. I just thought I could make it better.” The wry smile morphed into a grimace. “Those guys, though? The ones who ran us out? They were like family, like my brothers and sisters. What are they now?”

I didn’t know what to say. We sat in silence for a minute that felt like an hour. I wanted to look at him, but I forced my eyes to stay forward and down, like his were. The breeze whistled past my ears.

And then came a noise I had heard countless times before, only never quite so clearly: a distinct, rhythmic clopping. Deacon heard it too. He picked up his head and began to scan the immediate area.

“What the hell is that?” It turned out to be a rhetorical question as a man on horseback materialized through the trees. He had two more horses trailing beside him, all saddled up and ready for cargo.

Deacon smirked. “That,” he told me, “is our ride.”

Chapter Five

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I said, gawking at the setup. The horses were huge and sturdy. They looked like they’d been stolen straight from a carriage.

Deacon stepped forward to meet the rider. “Really, Vic? After all this, a horse is what pushes you over the edge?” Shutting my mouth, I glared at him, arms folded. The horse brigade pulled to a stop. Deacon gestured to its leader. “Trent, this is my friend Vic. Vic, Trent. As you can see, he has some unusual connections.”

“All the better to come to your rescue, my dear.” Trent was broad and slick, and it wasn’t clear which of us he was talking to. He flashed a smile in my general direction. “Sorry I’m late, Deac. Maybe you noticed the traffic out there.”

Deac? I raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I saw that shit.” Deacon turned to me again. “Seriously, Trent is one of the only guys I can still trust, and that means you’re going to have to trust him, too. I don’t need to tell you what our choices look like.”

Trent laughed. “No, please. Talk me up some more. I love it when you treat me like a last resort.”

I gave him a quick once over, already aware that we were all backed into a corner. He oozed a sleazy, overconfident vibe that I could happily have done without, but times were tough as hell. “Fine,” I declared. “But can I trust the horse?” I pointed at my mount as I made my way over.

“Either way, you better make nice,” Trent said. “Her name’s Bluebell, and she’s your new best friend.”

I moved around unenthusiastically to the side, examining the saddle. “This thing will stay on?”

“Sure it will, city girl. If you don’t believe me, go on and give it a try.” He cast his eyes furtively through the trees. “Right now would be nice. I don’t want to stick around here any longer than we have to.”

If you’d shown up on time, we’d be gone already, I thought. On Trent’s other side, Deacon lifted himself into his own saddle. The glance he gave me was half encouraging, half amused. “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.” I took a deep breath, hoisted my leg up, and heaved myself into position, expecting Bluebell to bolt or jump or try to buck me off. She did nothing of the sort. One of her ears twitched.

“Well, it wasn’t pretty, but it’ll do. Let’s go.” Trent maneuvered around in a neat little arc, and we fell into step in a sort of triangle. The horses’ hooves made dull, soothing thuds in the grass. “Keep away from the paths, or someone will hear us, guaranteed.” Trent didn’t turn around as he talked; he also didn’t stop talking. “It’s good to see you, Deac. When I heard the Bureau went under, I thought you were lost with the rest.”

“It was close,” Deacon admitted tightly. “We just barely got out in time.”

“We?” At this, Trent turned his head in profile to me. “You were there too, huh? As a suit or as a suspect?”

“Come on, man.” There was a subtle edge to Deacon’s voice now. “You came through for me, I’ll give you that, but you don’t need to be a prick about it.”

The horseman held up his hand in a conciliatory motion. “My bad. I’ll behave.” He paused. “But you do look sort of familiar. Have I seen you before?”

I froze for a split second before recovering. “I get that a lot. Guess I’ve got one of those faces that everybody’s seen.” Technically, it wasn’t a lie. Anyone who’d been watching the news lately was sure to have seen me, and not in a flattering light. I just hoped he wouldn’t connect the dots.

“She was in questioning when the shit hit the fan, if you must know,” Deacon cut in. “Honestly, it’s a good thing she was. I don’t know if I’d have made it without her.”

“Cute. Is that the story you plan on telling your kids?” The smarmy smile on Trent’s face was audible in his tone. “I always knew you’d settle down one of these days, Deac. Not sure about doing it with a dangerous fugitive, but hey, to each his own. I mean, stranger shit than this is going on in New York.”

I shot Deacon a withering stare and mouthed, “This is your fault.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up, or say something useful, Trent. If you know anything about what’s going on, for instance, now would be a good time to tell us.”

“You mean besides the fact that you must be in a world of trouble if you’re hanging around with her? Listen to you, Deac, asking me if I know anything.” For this, Trent actually twisted around in around in the saddle. “Of course I know about this crazy end-of-the-world mess. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” I chewed my lip and sat up a little straighter. Hadn’t Deacon just said that this guy had some interesting connections? Maybe they were more interesting than I understood. Trent saw this and grinned. “Oh, now she wants to know about me, doesn’t she? I’m assuming you haven’t told her a whole lot.”

“Discretion is the name of the game right now. You know that.” Deacon’s speech became clipped, as if he didn’t like where he sensed the conversation was heading.

“What are you talking about?” I asked bluntly, prepared to be pissed if it turned out Mr. FBI had been holding out on Forgotten intel all along.

The wide smile remained fixed on Trent’s face. “Deacon and I used to be partners, back in the day. That was what, four, five years ago now? Right when we were just starting out. Junior agents, they used to say.”

“Huh.” I stole a glimpse at Deacon to gauge his reaction. His eyes were locked forward, his jaw set. Definitely not happy. His reaction only served to make me more curious. “Really? And…you’re a horse cop now? What’s with that?” Maybe it was uncool of me to call him out like that, but he hadn’t exactly presented himself in the most favorable light so far. I didn’t know too many mounted patrol officers with serious connections.

Trent’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Things happen. And if you want to talk about me, well then…only fair that it’s open season on the skeletons in your closet too.” He smirked. “Although I guess they’re not quite skeletons yet, are they?”

I clenched my jaw against the hot flush of anger threatening to work its way up to my face. Deacon’s old partner or not, Trent had just upgraded himself to a first-rate jackass. But my hands were tied—he was our only way out. Pushing down the overwhelming urge to punch him right in his smug, stupid face, I decided to be the bigger person and not start a horseback brawl in the middle of the park.

“Whatever. Tell me more about Deacon. What was he like back then?”

“For the love of—” Deacon burst out. I snorted. Trent’s grin shifted to something more playful, less blatantly mocking, and the atmosphere lightened. Poor Deacon slumped his shoulders, morally defeated. “No, I give up. Let’s just get this over with.”

“Atta boy.” Trent adjusted his horse’s trajectory over his shoulder. “To answer your question, Vic, he was… let’s say, idealistic. Excitable. Gung ho, if you will.”

I considered the carefully spoken, cool-headed agent I had always known Deacon to be. “I’m not sure if I believe that. At all. But please, go on.”

Deacon groaned.

“With pleasure.” Trent was clearly savoring the moment. I wondered how many times he had pulled this stunt in the past. “It was one of our first cases together, and kind of a rare one. The bureau had gotten a high volume of calls from a pretty wide spread of locations across the country, all regarding similar mysterious sightings. An object in the sky. Weird lights in the clouds. A distinct, semi-spherical shape.” He nodded. “You get the drift.”

I blinked. “A UFO?” Laughing, I glanced at Deacon. “No way you took that seriously.”

His reply was sullen. “Remember Washington? That was ‘unexplained’ too, and I was there, wasn’t I?”

“He didn’t just believe it,” Trent continued gleefully. “He fought over it with the boss. Kleinfeldt thought it was a waste of time and resources, but Deacon? Absolutely not. No stone left unturned. You would’ve thought Independence Day was imminent, listening to this guy.”

A smirk planted itself on my face, although Deacon seemed genuinely miserable. “And how did that work out?” I asked.

“Not well,” Deacon muttered.

“What he means is, he nearly got himself canned. They decided it was one of the usual suspects—a weather balloon or just the weather itself. People who want to witness the extraordinary end up seeing all kinds of shit just by coincidence. Funny how that happens.” Satisfied with Deacon’s level of utter mortification, Trent swiveled forward in the saddle and prodded his horse in the side. We were deep in the park, surrounded on all sides by greenery and the occasional glimpse of fountains or statues. All I could really hear was the horses breathing and their steady hoofbeats. In a way, it was a kind of respite.

But we all knew it wasn’t going to last.

The close-knit tree line ended up ahead, and I could see part of a clearing through the last of the trunks. The air hanging above the open grass seemed darker, heavier. As we drew closer, the smell of smoke wafted up into my nose. Bluebell tossed her head. Her ears flicked nervously.

“Well, well…” Trent drew his horse to a stop and motioned for us to do the same. “This is new.”

Deacon stood up in the stirrups to try for a better look. “What’s going on?” Large swaths of grass were matted down and smoldering in clumps—the source of the smoke haze. Despite the fact that we had stopped moving, I swore I still picked up the sound of hooves not that far away.

“More horses? Is it possible you were followed?” I did my best not to sound accusing, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel suspicious. The timing felt a little too perfect.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Trent answered tersely. He began to inch forward without dismounting, coaxing a step at a time out of his horse. Unsure what else to do, I reluctantly followed his lead. Even I knew it would be a dumb move to leave a horse fending for itself against potential Forgotten. At best, I’d have to get back on again, which could cost me precious time. At worst, no more horse. I wasn’t ready to sacrifice my only mode of transportation.

We stayed in that limbo of not knowing for less than a minute, but just like before, it could have been hours. My eyes stayed glued to that window of clearing, straining to see past the dingy layers of smoke. The fire was pretty fresh.

All of a sudden, a shape passed across my field of vision. It was foreign and familiar at the same time, and my brain struggled to process it. The one thing that stuck with me was the burning orange flash seared into its side. More brands, which meant more demons.

“What the hell was that?” I demanded, already drawing my sword. The blade surged instantly into being. Our time for caution had passed. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, I’m taking it down.”

“Damn. You’ve got balls to spare. I like that in a woman.” Trent flashed me his annoying, overconfident smile, but the sight of the Gladius Solis shut him up fast. I didn’t wait for him to recover, or for Deacon to try and stop me yet again.

“Come on, Bluebell! Don’t let me down!” My feet struck her solid flanks. She took off, snorting, and I thought, This is what they do in movies, right? I swung the sword up above my head, mostly to keep it at a safe distance from the living creature underneath me, and we barreled toward the opening at breakneck speed. Nothing was getting in my way.

Chapter Six

Even as I careened on horseback to my first ever mounted battle, my thoughts were consumed once more by the first branded guy I’d ever seen, the one in California. He had gotten away back then, and I kept wondering if I would find him in New York, shades on his face, swinging that hammer around. In fact, I half expected him to be there when Bluebell and I burst out of the tree cover, dust and dirt spraying behind us.

He wasn’t. What I saw instead almost made me faceplant straight off Bluebell. These guys weren’t even all the way human. From the waist down, they looked more like Bluebell than anything else. Fucking centaurs. They were circling the clearing, organized into a sleek formation, getting ready to mount their own charge.

If I wanted to beat them to it, I had to act fast. Fortunately, Bluebell’s considerable momentum didn’t give me any other choice. As soon as they saw me, they started to angle for a collision. My heart pounded in my chest. I had no idea what was going to happen, but damned if we were going to back down now. With the reins gathered into a clumsy fist, my sword arm outstretched, I bent low over Bluebell’s neck and spurred her on. She shifted into high gear.

We were going to hit like a freaking truck.

The lead centaur caught my eye and stared me down. He had a wild, weirdly silky mane of hair, like Fabio on some serious roid rage. His four legs carved a rut into the grass. The burning brands criss-crossed over his body threw sparks as he ran. He opened his mouth to release a bellowing, wordless war cry that was picked up and echoed by the herd at his heels.

“What would Marcus say?” I whispered. The distance between us was closing rapidly. No time left to strategize. The sea of beating hooves drummed thunderously in my ears. It gave me an idea.

At the last second, I jerked Bluebell to the side, leaned far down out of the saddle, and aimed the sharp edge of my blade at the centaurs’ legs. The ground flew by only a couple feet from my face. I refused to close my eyes against the rush of smoke-tinted wind. For a terrifying moment, I was convinced my genius strike had completely missed, until one of the marked beasts toppled forward. An instant later, the brands encircling its tumbling body pulsed outward, and the creature erupted in a whirl of flame.

I popped my head up so fast that the world spun. “Watch out!” I yelled to Deacon and Trent. The herd parted like a river current around the fallen centaur, heedless of the fire licking at their flanks. I ducked under a polearm that came flying at my head. Bluebell couldn’t and didn’t stop, her eyes rimmed with white. “Sorry I suck at this,” I said. I pulled the reins to guide her around for another pass. My balance shifted crazily, but I found myself grinning with the sheer exhilaration. Nobody had ever told me horses moved so damn fast!

Deacon came back into view as we made our turn. He was both ridiculous and badass with his gun out, both hands on the grip and none on the reins. I watched him land a few choice shots before diving down for another chop. This time, I aimed better and sent my target tumbling end over end into his brothers. Once down, they were a mess of legs and long, unwieldy weapons, easy to handle. It took me a few passes, but I soon learned the basics of a good, swooping, sword-swinging drive-by. The burning piles were stained with centaur blood.

My luck, however, didn’t last. The centaurs were smarter than I gave them credit for, and they wised up to my scheme pretty quickly. The next time I looked forward, I was met by the sight of a group rushing toward me with poles braced.

“Shit!” If they knocked me off, I’d be dead. Without thinking, I pulled my feet from the stirrups and pushed down on the saddle with my hands, springing awkwardly upward. Startled, some of the charging group veered just enough to let me clear their weapons, and on my way over, I swung the sword downward. Compared to the Gladius Solis, the polearms were nothing. They shattered, sending wood shrapnel flying.

“Get ‘em!” Deacon shouted. His encouragement made me grin, but it was hard to stick the landing on Bluebell as she bolted for her life. A fistful of her mane barely kept me from crashing over her neck.

“Sorry, girl! I’m sorry!” I fumbled for the flapping reins and curled my fingers around them. The centaurs were wounded but resilient, even to the bullets from Deacon’s handgun. They rallied with streaks of dark blood painting their equine torsos, making the brands sizzle and steam. A sheen of sweat coated both Bluebell’s neck and my face. I wiped it out of my eyes.

“Don’t stop now!” Trent hollered. He galloped full speed and decked one of the creatures in the face with his bare fist, sending it stumbling. “Get them to fall back so we can haul ass out of here!”

“That guy just fucking punched a centaur.” I wheeled Bluebell around, shaking my head. No time to think about it. Trent was right. The important thing was moving on. Fights would only bog us down. I lifted my sword and kicked, and as we swept across the clearing, I drew my own war cry up from the pit of my stomach. It was a harsh, primal sound, the likes of which I had never made before. Man, it felt awesome.

And it worked, at least in some fashion. The dwindling clusters of horse-men began to scatter into the surrounding foliage, crushing plants and breaking twigs and branches as they went. They left behind a field splashed with blood, dotted with the smoldering remains of their fallen.

“You’re not half bad at that,” Deacon remarked. He dragged his arm across his forehead as he pulled up next to me to catch his breath. “Not exactly a mounted ballerina, but hey, at least you didn’t fall off.”

“I didn’t know they mixed guns and horses so well down in Florida,” I responded.

“Why not? It’s still the South.” He nodded toward where Trent was already disappearing through the woods. “We better catch up before he leaves us for dead.”

“You said he wouldn’t do that.”

Deacon shook his head. “I said he’d show up.”

At first, the three of us stayed quiet on our way out of Central Park, in case there were more lurkers setting an ambush. But once the quiet settled in again, Trent started talking. I kept my mouth purposely shut tight, wondering if the man ever truly shut up. What he said, however, piqued my interest yet again.

“I bet you think that caught me by surprise.” Trent adjusted his weight in the saddle, holding the reins in his right hand. He peered sideways at us, a trace of a smile on his lips.

“Didn’t it?” Deacon spoke carefully, not looking at me. “It bears repeating, my man: if there’s anything you know that we might not, this is a real good time to share.”

“You know what I think?” Now Trent leaned back, squinting into the nonexistent sunlight. He pulled the rim of his black ballcap down over his eyes and ran his hand across his mouth. “I think the government knows exactly what’s going on here. They’ve probably known for a long time. Since the beginning, I bet.”

“You think this is a coverup?” Deacon asked.

It was strange to let Deacon do most of the talking, but I still wasn’t sure how I felt about Trent, and I didn’t want to tangle with any potential theories just yet. Best to let the feds talk amongst themselves and see what I could infer about Trent from their conversation. At this stage, it didn’t matter if he was totally wrong; I just wanted to know how much he thought he understood.

Trent shrugged as if the conclusion was an obvious one. “How could it not be? You’ve been in the Bureau; you know how this shit works. We dug into everything, no matter how stupid it sounded on the surface. The way I see it, there’s not a chance in hell they didn’t already know about some kind of pending extraterrestrial invasion over there. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve been in contact with the leaders already.”

“And who do you suppose those leaders are?” Deacon masked his fishing for intel with a thick veneer of sardonic disdain. “Paul Bunyan? Xanadu?” He chuckled. “Now who’s the one getting on the UFO train?”

“Hey, man, UFOs are completely distinct from hostile alien takeovers. I’d appreciate it if you got your damn facts straight for once. Paul Bunyan’s not even real.” Trent lapsed into a stone-faced silence for all of about three seconds before his composure dissolved into a fit of laughter. “Oh man, your face just now! Priceless, dude.”

Deacon sighed. “Can you stop jerking my chain for two seconds while we try to work this out? That wasn’t a fake fight we had, Trent. We’re in the shit, and we’re in it for real. I wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise.” His words were undercut by a distinct frustration, one that likely characterized their working relationship at the Bureau all those years ago.

“Harsh.” Trent kept his voice light, but his expression grew more somber. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. This is all just so fucking crazy. I feel like I need to find something to laugh about every few minutes, or else I’ll lose my shit.” He brushed some dust from the top of his leg. “And no, I don’t know much about the situation beyond what I’ve seen since everything went tits-up. That being said, I’ve seen a lot.”

Deacon nodded absently. “Us too. How far to the safe house? I’d feel better talking if there’s a chance we’re not being monitored.” The mention of the house made my heartrate pick up all by itself. The prospect of finally seeing Jules, Maya, and Marcus strengthened my resolve even further.

“We swept the place as best we could, but I can’t say for sure it was enough. Still, it’s better than nothing.” Trent pointed as the city seemed to erupt from the edge of the park like a dingy mirage. “See that back alley? Right through there.” A few groups of stragglers picked their way down the street, but compared to everything else rampaging through New York just blocks away, our trio looked pretty normal. I squeezed the leathers in my hands, avoiding eye contact with the passers-by.

At the gate to the alley, Trent hopped down from the saddle. He fished a key out of a pocket on his jacket and unlocked the padlock around the iron bars. The hinges squealed as the gate swung open. “I’d get down now if I were you,” he told us. “The horses tend to get a little spooked in close spaces.”

I patted Bluebell’s neck on my way down. “I owe you,” I said to her. I was still grateful to be standing on my own two feet, though. The sword went back into my bag, though my guard stayed up. We barely fit between the dumpsters and cans lining the walls. The smell of city garbage was almost comforting in a weird way. It was nice to know that some things never changed.

Trent led us around into a courtyard behind a row of buildings lined with unmarked doors. He tied his lead to the first of a group of makeshift posts jammed into the ground, and then he turned and reached for mine. “I’ll take care of this. Top floor. Take the fire escape.”

“You’re just gonna leave the horses out here?” Deacon asked.

“You saw what happened when we crossed the street. Nobody gave a rat’s ass. We’ve all got bigger things to worry about.”

“Fair enough.” Deacon touched my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“You want to race?” He looked at me like I’d lost my brain in the park, and I smirked back. “Just kidding. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your ex-partner.”

The sound of Trent laughing followed us up the ladder.

Chapter Seven

The windows on the top floor of the safe house building were blacked out with tape and ragged blankets. When I knocked on the pane, the blankets rippled, and I caught a glimpse of a face I knew. Two seconds later, Maya pulled the latch and opened up. The barrel of a twelve-gauge shotgun peeked over her shoulder.

“Vic!” She breathed a huge sigh of relief. “You don’t know how glad I am to see you. I wasn’t sure if that guy was bullshitting or not.” She stepped back to let me climb through, nodding at Deacon.

“Who, Trent?” I asked. “That makes two of us.”

She snorted and gave me a quick, tight hug. The grip of a pistol poked out of a holster strapped to her side. “How’s it look out there? Sorry—watch the gun.”

“Like hell. Glad to see you can fend for yourself.” I would’ve said more, but that was the moment I spotted a blonde head of hair that I’d recognize anywhere. “Jules?” My chest tightened unexpectedly. In real time, it hadn’t been that long since she was taken away from the scene of the slaughterhouse, but it might as well have been forever. She turned toward me, and her eyes went wide.

“You made it!” Jules threw her arms around me, squeezing with equal parts glee and intense relief. “Oh, I’m so glad. I mean, I knew you would, but you guys had me worried for a second.” She pulled back and gestured to the space around us. “Welcome to home sweet home, for now. It’s not much, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

Because of the blankets covering the windows, the interior of the safe house was dim, which only added to its stuffy, musty atmosphere. It was full of the smells and sounds of people trying to be as quiet as possible. Many of them were at opposite ends of the spectrum—kids and the elderly. They sat on old, broken down chairs, a couple pitted sofas, on floor mats spread out over hardwood. Some of them eyed me warily, and I could see they’d been through the wringer. They were, to put it mildly, beat to shit, sporting bruises and black eyes and cuts dried over with blood.

“How’d you get so many people in here?” I asked Jules. “There’s no way they all came up the escape, right?”

“I’m worried about that,” Deacon chimed in. “If this place gets compromised, it’s going to be real hard to get these people out. I hope Trent has a plan.”

“We’ll figure it out.” I wanted to put on a brave face for Jules and Maya, although I was concerned too. “If nothing else, I bet the places below here are probably abandoned, or about to be. We can scout it out and start moving people down if necessary.” As I talked, I moved back toward the window. “At least the higher ground gives us a good vantage point to see what’s coming. Maybe we can make this our war room if we relocate.”

“I’m impressed, Vic,” Deacon said. “I mean, I’m usually impressed, but I wasn’t sure you’d be so… strategic about things.”

“Come on. You, of all people, should know what a master of strategy I am by now. I’m practically a general.” To Jules, I said, “This is what I’ve been dealing with since you left.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Deacon gave an exaggerated shrug. “Having someone care about your success is a chore. I know.”

Jules laughed. “Ease up, Vic. Deacon’s a good guy. He might deserve a medal of honor if he’s been putting up with you this well.” Before I could protest, she put her arm around my shoulders. “Have you talked to Maya yet? We’ve dealt with some super crazy stuff here, too. You never told me she was so amazing!”

“How’d you end up here, anyway?” I asked as we walked toward where Maya knelt in front of a small girl, tending to a wound on the child’s leg. “I saw you get taken away by the cops, and then they took me to the FBI building.”

“Yeah. I thought they were going to bring me there too, but we just went down to the precinct instead. I think they thought I was just a bystander and didn’t realize I knew you. Which was probably for the best, as things turned out. I went to your place after they let me go, hoping you’d be there. Obviously, you weren’t.”

Maya finished wrapping the bandage and stood up. “But I was.” She smiled at the little girl then immediately guided us away. “There are bedrooms in the back. Let’s talk over there. I don’t want these guys to overhear us and freak out.” Once we had sequestered ourselves away, she picked up where she’d left off. “I tried to stay holed up at the loft because I didn’t know where you were, and I didn’t want to get myself in trouble, in case it turned out to be something I couldn’t handle on my own. But after Jules showed up without you, I was like, you know what? This isn’t doing either of us any good.”

“She’s the one who saved all these people,” Jules cut in, unable to contain her excitement. “They were cornered in a tenement, and she just went in and rescued them, no big deal. It was incredible!”

Maya smiled sheepishly. “It wasn’t that incredible. I just, you know… did my thing. And I was scared about bringing Jules with me, but there was no way I could have tended to the whole group myself. She was a huge help. She still is, honestly.”

“You said they were cornered?” I asked. “By whom? Or maybe I should say, by what?” You never knew with the Forgotten.

“I’m not sure what they were.” Maya paused for a second, recalling. “They mostly looked like humans, but a lot of them were really tall. Some of them had things like horns and hooves, too.” She sort of shrugged. “They all had these weird, glowing chain tattoos.”

Deacon spoke up for the first time. “That’s not good. They must be spreading. Where’d you find them?”

“We were a lot closer to Vic’s place at the beginning,” Maya told us. “We thought about staying in the tenement once we cleared it out, but then more of them started showing up. Jules told me she thought you might be in holding downtown, so we decided to head this way. I had to clear a path, so to speak.”

Deacon raised an eyebrow. “Man, and here I thought Vic was the one making moves. How the hell did you pull that off?” All three of us looked at him, and he caught himself in time to try and backpedal. “Look at her! She’s tiny. You can’t blame me for wondering.”

“Nice save, Deac,” I said. “This girl’s way tougher than she looks. And it sounds like she’s getting good at it. Is Marcus helping?” Remembering the medallion, I reflexively checked to see if it was around her neck. To my surprise, she wasn’t wearing the chain. “Where is he?”

Maya frowned. “He’s not with you?” The confusion instantly gave way to worry.

A cold realization dawned on me. “You didn’t see the note I left, did you?”

She shook her head. “Nope. I figured you would’ve taken him with you.”

“I would have, but at the time, I thought there was a pretty good chance I wasn’t coming back.” I looked at Deacon and Jules. “That means he’s still at the loft… I hope. We have to get him back.”

“You hope?” Deacon asked. He started to pace the length of the room, hands folded behind his back. “Tell me that’s not as ominous as it sounds.”

“Well, it’s not like he’s going anywhere himself. But I have no idea if his presence can be sensed at all, and that place isn’t exactly the most secure. We need to go there as soon as possible. He can’t defend himself like that. If they get ahold of him, we’re screwed.”

“And we don’t even know who ‘they’ are,” Deacon muttered.

“Actually, I might know something,” Jules volunteered. We all rounded on her so fast she actually took a step back. “Don’t get too excited—it’s not much. But I spent a while with that guy in the black, Logan or whatever.”

“Lorcan,” I said. “But go on.”

“Right. Damn, he was such a prick. Anyway, I think he sort of forgot I was there sometimes because he never took any precautions to make sure I couldn’t hear what he was talking about.” She twined a lock of her golden hair around her finger. “It sounded like he was working on something big, and I think he had a partner in it. He never said a name, but I’m pretty sure it was a woman.”

“Hmm.” I bowed my head, racking my brain for ideas. The only goddess I’d encountered so far was the harpy queen. Was it possible she had come back? As far as I could tell, there were no harpies in the city. “I’m not sure who that could be.”

“Whatever they were planning, he needed living humans for it. He talked about that a lot. Ad nauseum, I would say.” Jules folded her arms. “Like I said, it’s not much. Those guys are cryptic even in private, I guess.”

“No, this is really valuable. I just don’t know what it means. As usual.” I took a few more seconds to ponder the information, and then I exhaled and stood up. “You know who could put all the pieces together and then some? Marcus. I’m going to find that medallion.”

“I’m down for a field trip.” Deacon stopped pacing as soon as I mentioned a plan of action. “Gives us a chance to do some recon in other parts of the city.” He checked his holster.

I held up my hand. “Sorry, Agent D. I think I’m gonna go this one alone. Not because I want to deny myself the pleasure of your company, but the safe house needs to stay protected, and I know you’re a crack shot. Maya can hold her own, but she’s also the only doctor. And I don’t know if I’m willing to leave the whole job to Trent.”

“I told you we can trust him.” Deacon grimaced. “But I see your point.”

“We can’t put these people in more jeopardy. I’ll be fine. And I’ll have Marcus with me on the return trip. I just need you to hold down the fort until I get back.” I felt sorry for him then; I really did. I knew I’d go stir crazy in that place if it were me. Nonetheless, we owed it to Maya, who had gone through all the trouble of saving them and then making sure they were cared for. They deserved to survive.

“No, you’re right.” Deacon put his gun away. “I’ll go make sure Trent made it in all right.” He glanced at me. “Take care of yourself out there.” He slipped out the bedroom door without further ado, closing it gently behind him.

“I think he likes you,” Jules whispered. She giggled.

I rolled my eyes. “That’s my cue to get out of here. See you two in a bit. I hope this won’t take long.”

“Wait, Vic,” Maya said. “Before you leave, I might need your help with something.” Maya led us out the door and directed me down the hall to another bedroom. She stopped outside the door. “Normally, I wouldn’t ask you to make a detour like this, but this family desperately needs help. It’s a matter of life and death.” She talked quietly so they wouldn’t hear.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her. “That’s what I’m here for. Let’s go.”

Maya nodded and opened the door.

Chapter Eight

The room was dim and cool. Its windows had been blocked out, and a bedside lamp provided the only light. A slight, dark-haired woman sat on the edge of the bed, surrounded by a sea of crumpled tissues.

She looked up as Maya and I entered, and her brown eyes immediately registered a mix of relief and concern. One hand rested on the shape of a small boy buried in blankets. In her other hand, she clutched a silver cross to her chest. Tears tracked silently down her cheeks. Even from a distance, I could tell the boy’s face was swollen.

“Hola,” Maya said gently, crossing to the bed. She knelt, touching the woman’s arm. “Como estas?” That was the extent of what I could understand. High-school Spanish didn’t begin to cover the mother’s reply, but the desperation in her voice was universal. The situation must be serious. Maya nodded and turned to me. “Her son is having some kind of anaphylactic reaction. He needs an EpiPen, but theirs was lost during relocation from their tenement building.”

“Is that why his face is puffed up like that?” I kept my voice low and somber, unsure if the poor mother could understand me. I didn’t want to upset her further.

“Yeah, it’s not good. We don’t have a lot of time.” Maya patted the woman’s arm and stood up. “There’s a pharmacy a few blocks from here. If we can get in, they’d probably have at least something that could help.”

“I can go,” I told her. “No problem.” I still needed Marcus, but not more than this little kid needed medicine. “Just tell me where the pharmacy is. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

“Wait, I’m coming with you.” Maya said something in Spanish to the distraught mother, who clasped both her hands and managed a grateful smile.

I shook my head. “You don’t have to do that. I guarantee I’ve seen worse. Whatever’s there won’t be an issue.”

“They call those ‘famous last words,’” Maya answered dryly. “Come on, Wonder Woman. Even you can use a sidekick sometimes. Besides, you said I was getting better at it.” She ushered me out the door, heading off any more protest. “I’ve done what I can for these people. Now I want to help you as much as I can. You’re the one out here saving the world.”

I laughed. “No pressure, right?” We retraced our steps back down the hall and came out into the main space where Deacon and Trent stood talking by the windows. Deacon looked up as we approached.

“What’s the plan?” he asked. “I figured you’d be out of here already.”

“My fault,” said Maya. “I gave her an errand to run.” To Trent, she added, “If there’s an emergency, you have my number. We’ll just have to hope the call goes through.”

Trent touched the brim of his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” The two men stepped aside so we could get through the window. I felt them watching us make the descent back to the street. On our way out of the courtyard, I shot a parting glance at the top floor, just in time to see the blanket swish back into place.

“Have you scouted out the pharmacy at all?” It had only been an hour or so since Deacon, Trent and I had arrived at the safehouse, but the street below had almost completely cleared out. Some trash cans rattled in an alley, silencing as we drew near. In all my years, I’d never seen any part of the city so ghostly quiet. Maybe the apocalypse wasn’t that far off. The whole thing gave me the creeps.

Maya frowned. “Not really. I haven’t been able to leave the group, so I asked Trent to take a look next time he came this way. He told me he couldn’t see much from outside, but it looked more or less abandoned.” She chewed her lip. “I’m usually a pretty big stickler for law and order, but if worse comes to worst, we can get away with breaking a window, don’t you think?”

“Maya, we could probably get away with busting the whole door down at this point. I’m not saying we should ever resort to mass property damage, but everyone in the city has bigger things to worry about right now.” The towering image of Beleza jumped into my mind, all bronzed and smiling. “Literally.”

“I guess you’re right. This is all so surreal.”

“Bet you didn’t think you were leaving backcountry Washington for this, did you?”

Maya shook her head slowly. “Definitely not. It makes me wonder how things are in California. What does LA look like right now?”

It was a good question. “Broadcasting is probably crippled right now, but that’s worth checking on. Let’s try to find some news when we get back.”

“There are a couple TVs in the safehouse. I kept them off because I didn’t want to scare the kids. I can’t imagine the coverage is anything less than terrifying, if it exists.” Suddenly, she put out her hand to signal me to be careful. “The pharmacy is right up there at the corner. See the sign?”

“Yeah.” I also saw the telltale glint of glass shards scattered all over the sidewalk in front of the plate glass window. “Looks like someone already did the breaking and entering for us.”

Maya took a deep breath, set her jaw, and stepped forward. “Okay, let’s do this.”

“You’ve come a long way since Washington,” I remarked. “I’m proud of you. This shit’s not easy, but we’re making progress.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line. “I just hate it so much.” Her arm swept out to encompass the empty streets, the subtle and not-so-subtle signs of society crumbling down around us. “I hate all of this. It’s like a freaking horror movie, and everyone here is an innocent bystander.” A big breath released from her lungs. “So many people in harm’s way, but so little I can do.”

“Hey, hold on a second.” I laid my hand on her shoulder. “Look at me. You’ve already done a ton—maybe more than anyone else I know. That group back at the safehouse, that kid and his mom? They wouldn’t be anywhere safe if not for you. You’re the one who’s giving them a fighting chance. That’s something to be proud of. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She still seemed doubtful. I nodded my head with conviction. “Like I said, we’re making progress despite it all. There’s nowhere to go from here but up.”

She laughed softly, humorlessly. “Thanks, Vic. But I’m not sure how much progress there is in killing.”

“We don’t hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it,” I reminded her. “Besides, desperate times call for desperate measures, right? Let’s just help as many people as we can and survive. No matter what that means.” I started to move my feet again, guiding her along with me. “Right now, we’re here. This is something we can do.”

“Okay, you’re right. Let’s do this for real.”

Glass crunched under our feet as we approached the pharmacy entrance. I was fully prepared to clamber through another window, but the front door had been pulled clear off its hinges, leaving an entrance that wouldn’t slice Maya to ribbons.

She frowned. “Who the hell smashes a window if they’re just going to break the door anyway?”

A decent question. The instant after she asked it, I heard the answer. It came in the form of wild laughter that reminded me of an unsettling cross between hyenas and braying donkeys. Of course, it was coming from exactly the place where we needed to go. “Nothing can ever be easy,” I muttered. “Oh well. Nobody’s going to miss these assholes anyway.”

“Do you know who’s inside?” Maya asked, her voice hushed. We slunk down an aisle full of toothpaste and mouthwash, heading for the back where the real medicine was. At least the commotion behind the pharmacist’s counter covered any audible trace of our footsteps. A crash shuddered through the air, giving rise to more insane merriment.

“In a manner of speaking.” Yeah, I know exactly who this is. I had seen only one group so far who could possibly fit the bill. I motioned for Maya to stay low. “They’re having too much fun to notice, but let’s get as close as we can before we crash the party.”

We crept all the way up to the patient side of the counter, past the sign marking out the start of the queue. The pharmacy itself lay behind a scuffed shield of bulletproof glass—a sure sign that we were in a rough-and-tumble part of the city. I popped my head up to get a glimpse of what I already knew to be there: a bunch of jackasses in baggy hipster clothes, tearing up the shelves. Some of them had lost their shoes, leaving their cloven feet on full display.

“What the heck?” Maya breathed.

I stood up and drummed my hands on the counter, pulling back the communication slot in the window. “Hey, you pricks. What’s a girl gotta do to get some service around here?” The closest one had his back to me. I could see a biker’s insignia emblazoned on his leather jacket, a long-faced goat with two vicious, sweeping horns. “Nice jacket. How much did you pay for the self-portrait?”

His narrow shoulders began to shake. A torrent of guffaws rose from a mouth that was hanging open when he turned around. I saw the muzzle of the automatic a fraction of a second before it started to flash.

“Holy shit!” Maya dropped to the floor at about the same time that the glass was dusted with pockmarks. It held, but I wondered how many more volleys it could take. The ammunition sputtered out, and the satyr dropped the clip, reaching into a pocket of his drooping jeans for more.

“You ready, Big Bad?” I asked Maya, without turning around. “Time to put these fuckers back on the highway to hell.” In one smooth motion, I whipped out the Gladius Solis, called the blade, and chopped the protective barrier in half. The two huge pieces shuddered, slid, and crashed to the ground. Through the open space, I chucked my sword like a javelin. A hefty thunk put an end to the satyr’s sadistic glee for good. As the faithful hilt returned to my hand, I glanced over my shoulder to check on Maya, and I found myself having to look up instead of down. She towered over me, her eyes gleaming gold. I grinned. “Awesome.”

We jumped the counter.

Maya landed with a roar, seizing the corpse of the newly dead satyr and hurling it at his swarming friends. They came out from the back like a cluster of roaches, screaming, howling, and chanting in their infernal language. She waded into them without fear, even as several brandished similar firearms. I followed in the path she created. The sword met resistance from neither bodies nor weapons. Guns with hands still attached rained bullets on their way to the floor. The sound of ricocheting was constant for the next twenty or thirty seconds.

The Gladius Solis danced, ribbonlike, in my hand. I knew better than anyone how far I still had to go in terms of becoming a master swordsman, but Maya wasn’t the only one visibly improving. That feeling Marcus always talked about, of being one with the weapon, was steadily taking hold. Wielding the sword felt as easy as waving my own arm. In close quarters, I had to be a little more careful about doing the fancy spins and flourishes to which I was becoming accustomed, but the solid bulwark of Maya’s form provided a welcome advantage. The bullets simply didn’t faze her.

I used my werewolf bodyguard as improvised cover. She had apparently learned to harness the strength of her default angry were-state while I was gone. Her glorious berserker rage seemed to make her impervious to intimidation of any kind. She just picked up the leering satyrs and crushed them together, throwing them around the pharmacy. Not quite the refined fighting style that Marcus liked to encourage in me, but I wasn’t about to complain. There was definitely something invigorating about watching sweet little Maya clean the floor with a bunch of baddies.

The satyrs didn’t stand a chance. Maya tore through them, and I made sure the job was done. By the time they were all dead, the pharmacy looked worse than when we found it, boxes and bottles of meds scattered everywhere. I hoped we hadn’t accidentally overdone it.

While I was taking stock of the scene, Maya returned to human form beside me. She swept the hair from her eyes and then immediately began hunting through the supplies. She was too busy to notice, but I saw one of the bodies out of the corner of my eye start to change. The crooked horns crumbled away from the man’s temples as the ragged, wiry beard melted from his face. Those creepy cloven hooves, no longer obscured by his boots, morphed back into human feet.

Weird.

“Found it!” Maya announced triumphantly. “Thank goodness. All of that was worth it now.”

“I hate to tell you, Maya, but you’re a pretty huge badass. That was some serious work you just put in.”

“Yeah, well, you said it first. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll put it in a box for now and handle the horror later.” She ran back and forth between the shelves for a couple minutes longer, collecting supplies for the safehouse. “I think this is about as good as it’s going to get. We should go back.” Moving toward the counter, she glanced for a moment at the bodies littering the pharmacy. Her lips tightened, but she said nothing. I noticed they were all people now. Bending down, she picked up an oversized coat that had gotten discarded in the chaos. She wrapped it around herself after a brief inspection. “I really need to start carrying some backup clothes,” she murmured, half to herself. “It’s a learning process.” I gave her a smile “Hey, what do you say we get to the safehouse? I think there’s a life you’ve got to save.”

Chapter Nine

The air outside the safehouse windows was edging down toward actual cold when I finally slipped back out into the encroaching evening. Twilight lit the sky to the west in reds and oranges and purples. Beautiful, but also strangely menacing. I felt like I could sense the gods watching me, tracking my progress north toward my loft. How many eyes did they have out right now, prowling the city unseen by humans? More than I wanted to think about probably.

That didn’t mean I was going to let stealth go by the wayside. There was always the possibility that they were getting cocky, and I could slip under the radar. Maybe I was the cocky one for thinking I could go unnoticed, but I clung to my optimism as I hopped across a never-ending series of slowly darkening rooftops.

Very few lights were on in the hundreds of windows that I passed. Once again, I was struck by the feeling that I was trekking through a ghost town. The thought made the hair rise up on the back of my neck. We were all hurtling through uncharted territory toward an even bigger unknown.

It proved impossible to stay at a consistent height, and I found myself climbing up more fire escapes, getting closer and closer to the sky. I had never been more grateful for the nectar Marcus had given me to save my life. That seemed so long ago now. I barely remembered who I was then, what I felt like, or how I saw the world. I’d spent half a decade seeking justice for what happened to my parents, but their killer, Rocco Durant, was little more than a distant memory.

Don’t relax, a little voice whispered in the back of my mind. The road ahead will be even longer.

The difference between then and now? I was prepared to face it.

Seconds later, I felt slightly less prepared to face the obstacles right in front of me; namely, the widening gaps between rooftops. I made the rookie mistake of peering down over the edge of one, and vertigo instantly clamped down on my stomach. “Don’t be a baby, Vic,” I scolded myself. “You’re like, basically almost a god now, right?”

Okay, that might have been a stretch. I could run fast and lift a lot of super heavy shit, and I could also see pretty well in the dark. My reflexes were crazy good—climbing, swinging, and jumping were all second nature on almost any surface. But the sight of the ground so far below me and the gaps bridged by nothing except open air? That got to me a little.

My heart pounded in my chest, more from adrenaline than fear. I backed up along the concrete terrace and settled into a sort of runner’s stance on the starting block. The countdown began in my head. Three... two… one!

On the imaginary crack of a starting pistol, I shot myself forward with all my strength, catapulting into a dead sprint toward the edge of the roof. A low wall stood between me and nothingness. I cleared it without a second thought, and then I was flying. The urge to yell out bubbled up in my throat, but letting it out would blow my cover. I kept my mouth locked shut until I hit the next rooftop running, both exhilarated and alive. The breath burst out of my lungs. I leaned over for a moment, hands on my knees. Did I really just do that?

Fuck yeah, I did.

I straightened up and checked behind me to see how close it had been. To my surprise, the edge of the roof was some twenty or so feet back. Sure, I had run for a bit after landing, but the margin for error had been way bigger than I expected. This realization filled me with renewed confidence. I felt a twinge of guilt for doubting the gift Marcus had given me, and I made a mental note to thank him again once we were reunited.

Evening continued to fall. The rooftop route was not quite as direct as just running through the streets, but I couldn’t risk being seen by someone who might report back to one of the head honchos. It bugged me that I still didn’t really know who the main players were. My top priority, besides Marcus, had to be finding that out.

I could safely assume that the bronze guy calling himself Beleza had to be a major force. Who else but a god would walk through downtown Manhattan with his dick out, shouting about his own greatness? But what about the woman I’d seen with the chain in her hand? Was she the source of the branded demon infestation?

There was obviously so much I didn’t know, and I hated feeling like I was truly out of the loop for the first time since the slaughterhouse. One thing was abundantly clear: the days of fighting one god at a time were over.

I was so lost in thoughts of the Forgotten that I almost didn’t notice the newest obstacle coming up into my path. I’d fallen pretty quickly into the rhythm of hopping from roof to roof, but the gap that suddenly stretched before me was more like a chasm. Deep in the concrete valley, broken red and white lines of headlights and taillights snaked through the street. The drop was significant. I made myself stop looking down.

The brisk air filled my lungs, chasing the maelstrom of worries from my mind. If I was really about to attempt this little stunt, all my focus needed to be on my body. In the midst of psyching myself up, I noticed with some pride that even after one hell of a day in the middle of a city now at war, I felt decent—or at least no worse for wear. But it was reasonable to expect that battle would be par for the course with these physical enhancements.

Now I was finally getting a chance to figure out what my new limits were. All the leaps so far had been a breeze, including the one that scared me at first. But there was maybe thirty feet of open space between me and the next roof. Maybe this was pushing it. I glanced around to see if an alternate path existed, just in case common sense got the better of me for once.

No such luck. Time to pfut up or shut up.

Ignoring the rise in my pulse, I fixed my eyes straight at the spot where I wanted to land. My feet carried me backward until I nearly lost sight of the edge of the roof. Once more, I fell into that starting position, one leg bent, my hand on the rooftop. The voice in the back of my head counted down. Three… two… one.

Like before, I burst forward on one, pumping my legs as hard as I could. All that distance I’d given myself disappeared like nothing. My foot hit the edge of the building, and then I was sailing up toward the first emerging stars. The rush was intoxicating until I realized I had already hit my zenith and was beginning my descent. I looked down. The other roof wasn’t quite below me.

I gasped, and my stomach flipped. It was impossible to tell if I was going to make it or not. The wind howled past my ears as I plummeted, arms outstretched to maximize my chances of grabbing onto something. I was coming up short.

“Shit. Shit!” My palms slapped against the concrete siding, sending sparks of pain shooting up my wrists. Then the inertia from the rest of my body propelled me forward into the side of the building, knocking the air out of my lungs. I struggled to find a solid hold with my hands and feet. When I managed to haul my ass over the ledge at last, I celebrated the victory by lying on my back for a minute, waiting for my heart to stop jackhammering in my chest.

Man, was I glad Marcus wasn’t there to see that. I would have never heard the end of it. I closed my eyes just for a second. A weird rattling noise filled my ears, and I opened them to see a slender, elegant face directly over mine. Pupils like slits floated in the center of bright yellow eyes. I swore I saw a brief glimpse of a forked tongue flicking in and out.

“Well, well.” The delicate mouth curled into a smile, lips pulling back from the tips of pointed fangs. These were not the brutish fangs of Lorcan’s vamps, though. They were fine and curved, and they gleamed in the dying light. “I was wondering when you might introduce yourself, Earthborn. I am most delighted to make your acquaintance at last.” She drew herself up to her full height as I shot to my feet. The smile didn’t budge from her features. “It’s not very often that one of your kind gets your little hands on a god’s weapon.”

“What do you want?” I was fairly confident that I already knew the answer—so far, they’d all wanted variations on the same theme. To kill me or steal the Gladius Solis. Sometimes both.

She slipped one long arm behind her back, withdrawing a pair of familiar iridescent feathers. “I want to talk.” The woman spoke soothingly. “Is that such a crime?” She held out a feather toward me. Her tongue whipped in and out. I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck.

“The last guy who gave me one of these ended up dead,” I told her. She didn’t rescind the offer or even alter her expression. The yellow eyes bored into me. Unlike the rest of her demeanor, they were cold, relentless. The eyes of a ruthless killer.

I reached out and took the feather. “Look,” I said. “I know the deal. You want a truce of sorts. You think we can join forces, work together, take over the world as a team. You’ve got an offer to make me. I’d be a fool if I refused. I’ve heard all this shit before, and like I said, that guy’s dead now.”

The woman cradled her cheek in her palm, gazing at me as I talked. With every second, her placid smile widened until it finally split into a melodic peal of laughter. Those sharp teeth seemed to dance in her mouth. Again, her tongue flashed. “Oh, you sweet, naïve child, thinking I came here to negotiate with you.” Her golden stare burned. “Not a chance. The sword in your hand may be powerful, but it cannot disguise your true nature. You are still a human, after all. And humans have an annoying tendency to simply… get in the way.” She flicked her long hair. “Besides, I’ve done my research. I knew it would be useless to try to trap you with such obvious bait. No.” The smile disappeared from all but the very corners of her lips. “I’m here to warn you.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Okay, I’ll play along. Warn me about what?” This lady was definitely creepy, but she didn’t make me afraid. Lorcan had talked a big game too.

“The gods are fighting for your city as we speak. Rocca and Beleza believe they will be unequivocally victorious, but they are grievously mistaken. I am the one who will rise above the fallen. I have already claimed this world as my own—it’s only a matter of exterminating the pests. Once wiped from the face of this planet, they will be forgotten, as is their fate.” She took a step toward me. “It would be convenient if I did not need to deal with you as well. Think of it as a matter of deference to your new ruler. This place is my territory. You do not belong. I think it would be mutually beneficial if we could come to an agreement.”

I stood my ground. The Gladius Solis was still at my side, but my reflexes were coiled and ready to use it. “If you’re trying to make me believe that New York City is all you want, I don’t buy that for a second. What’s next? The entire eastern seaboard?” I shook my head. “I can’t let that happen. And now that I know it’s possible to kill you if you won’t go back to whatever hellscape you came from, there’s no way I’m going to back down. No matter how nicely you ask.” I looked her straight in the eye. “This isn’t over until every last one of you has been sealed away—or destroyed.”

The goddess chuckled. Her tongue darted. “Such ignorance is expected… and adorable.” She tapped the tip of her index finger against her cheekbone. “It is also admirable, in a very stupid way, that you think Kronin’s sorry blade gives you a fighting chance. Compared to us, your race is infantile, my dear. We, the gods, will always be gods, and you will always be lesser beings, stumbling beneath us in the dark. This is not a fight. It is a massacre.” She sighed softly. “I’m sure Kronin’s loyal servant must have given you some proper counsel, so perhaps I’m only reiterating that which you already know. But this time, the conflict is not just about us, and neither is it really about you. Soon, I will amass the power that will awaken the magnificent beast. When that time arrives, whoever remains of your dwindling race will fall into my service, whether they like it or not.”

I pursed my lips. Lorcan had spouted some grandiose, narcissistic stuff, but this snake-eyed woman was on a whole other level. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She arched an eyebrow. “You have been warned, Earthborn. Stay out of my way, or be crushed. Strength isn’t everything, you know? In fact, it is seldom superior to a well-honed intellect. Soon, Rocca will be example enough of that.” Her fingers tightened around the stem of her peacock feather, which flared into flames and then dissipated on the breeze. I dropped mine as it disintegrated.

“Who are you?”

She turned away, a curtain of hair obscuring her face. “My name is Tahn. You would do well to remember.”

Then she was gone.

Chapter Ten

I stood there on the roof for a few minutes after Tahn had disappeared, collecting my thoughts and trying to see if I could pinpoint where she’d gone. My efforts were fruitless. It was like she never existed. The frustration over losing track of her so quickly reminded me in full force of my original purpose, and I reoriented myself posthaste in the direction of my loft.

“Marcus is gonna be so pissed when he finds out what he’s missed,” I muttered to myself, smiling a little.

The rest of the trek was relatively easy and eerily quiet. Nearing my neighborhood, the buildings dropped off in height, and by the time I got to my street, I could tell the whole area was dead. Not once in the last five and a half years had I ever seen the pavement so clear. No one loitered in the alleys or by the gates. Nobody slept under the overhangs. I walked past a small homeless camp that looked like it was abandoned in a hurry, grungy tarps still scattered with a few possessions.

That made me sort of sad. The feeling only intensified as I came up on Mac’s newspaper stand. The protective gate he always made sure to lock sat askew at a busted angle, its padlock hanging open. The racks of papers and magazines lay on the ground in a heap. Ripped pages fluttered near my feet, interspersed with packs of gum and candy bars. All the tobacco was long gone.

Mac was nowhere to be found.

I fixed the security gate and yanked it flush with the sidewalk. The lock was a lost cause, but there were no more looters anyway. My heart heavy, I rounded the corner to my building. The first thing I noticed was the empty front walkway; my friend Sam was missing, too. I climbed the couple of steps to the doors and hoped against hope that he and Mac were both holed up safe and sound somewhere. They were tough in different ways. They could weather the storm, as long as they’d made it to shelter.

The echoes of my footsteps in the stairwell seemed louder than usual. Taking the steps two at a time, I bounded up to my place, half expecting to find the door wrenched open. But it was locked, and at first glance after I let myself in, all appeared to be as I left it—or really, as Maya and Jules left it. I headed straight for the table where I knew I’d left the medallion and the note.

The note was there. The medallion was gone. I stared at the empty spot on the tabletop. “Oh, fuck.” Bitter panic rose in the back of my throat. I started sifting through the piles of random junk at breakneck speed, hoping Marcus had somehow just been knocked around in the shuffle. Maybe Maya grabbed him and didn’t realize in her rush to get out of the apartment?

As much as I wanted that to be the case, it wasn’t likely.

“Come on, Marcus,” I said out loud, as if he could do anything to help me. “Where’d you go?”

I scattered papers, pens, and old containers across the floor in my frenzied search, which ultimately turned up nothing. I dashed back to the door to check for signs of a break-in that I might have missed. Again, nothing. The scuffs and scratches on the door had all been there for ages, and I knew the lock was engaged when I got home.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, still talking to myself out loud. From there, I went to the old couch and checked the sagging cushions. Then I moved to the bed.

The instant I started to peel back the faded bedspread, an inhuman screech split the air. I jerked my whole body back, yelling in response. A dark, fuzzy shape launched itself at my chest, hissing, claws extended. I dodged without a moment’s thought, reaching for my sword. “Holy shit!”

The creature landed on splayed feet in the middle of the floor. It spun to size me up—and I realized what it was. My shock gave way to relieved, sheepish laughter. Kneeling down, I held out my hand to the poor, terrified cat. “Hey, relax. It’s just me. I live here too, remember?” The kitty’s ears, pinned back on its head, gradually came up. She crept forward to sniff me, and then she began to purr. “There you go.” I scooped her up when she got close enough. “I’m sorry I couldn’t send someone to feed you. You must be starving, huh?”

She nuzzled her little head into my collarbone, and I scratched the back of her neck, turning toward the kitchen. Her hackles were still sort of raised. I thought that was weird, until I glanced up and caught sight of someone standing in my makeshift kitchen. The panic came back in a flash. I dropped the cat. This time, the Gladius Solis came out in full force. There was no pause to collect my thoughts or second-guess my actions. This dickhead had invaded my private space. He didn’t get a change to explain.

That was what I thought, anyway. The brilliant blade hummed through the air, angled directly for the vamp’s thick neck. I expected him to sneer, or sidestep, or fall into a fighting stance. Instead, he threw his arms up over his face and screamed. “Stop! Stop! Jeezum Crow, don’t you got any facial recognition skills, girlie? I know I look bad, but it ain’t that bad!”

At the last second, I diverted my midair swing just enough to avoid decapitation. The edge of the sword still seared a section of the cheap suit adorning the figure’s corpulent frame. He stared at me, his sallow face six inches from mine. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

“Frank?”

He heaved a full-body sigh, mopping a ragged sleeve across his brow. “For Pete’s sake. I thought you was gonna make sushi out of me.”

“What are you doing here?” I stepped back to get a better look, and the view confirmed what I thought I’d seen prior to the attack. There was no mistaking that pale, sickly sheen on his skin. The circles under his eyes had become even more pronounced. They were more like imprints now. He looked like he was constantly sweating out some kind of horrible fever. Clear signs of a newly made vampire. “I hate to tell you, buddy, but it is that bad.”

“Don’t remind me.” His shoulders sagged. “First time I saw my own reflection afterward, I think I almost had a heart attack. Not that it’d mean shit now.” His laugh was hoarse and hollow, matching the look in his bloodshot eyes. “You know what I heard before? I heard it wasn’t so bad, that you get used to it after a while. The cravings are supposed to go down, see? Like being on a diet.” He ran a hand across his flabby jowls. “Well, it’s been a while, and I ain’t feelin’ so hot.”

“How did you get in here?” It was strangely difficult to see Frank like that in some ways. Yeah, he’d always been a beat-up old dog, and he wasn’t exactly a model citizen, but I still remembered the pit in the slaughterhouse. Hard to think he’d even been in there, let alone survived.

Frank scoffed. “You kiddin’ me, sweetheart? That thing on your door ain’t a lock so much as a damn decoration.” He shrugged. “I jimmied it.”

Skeptical, I raised my eyebrows. “You? With mitts like those?” Frank’s hands looked to be the size of frying pans, and about as dexterous. They were probably pretty good for hitting, but I couldn’t imagine them doing any sort of fine-motor work.

He frowned. “What’re you talkin’ about? I got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve.” To illustrate his point, he held up an arm. The torn flap of his jacket sleeve peeled back along his forearm like the skin of a banana. “You know what I mean.”

“Right.” I stifled a laugh, once more feeling sorry for the guy. “Let me get this straight. You broke into my house and then you locked the door behind you again? And you still haven’t told me why you’re here.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I was looking for you.” He shuffled his feet and cleared his throat. “Listen, I tried to knock. I mean, I did knock. But nobody answered, and I thought maybe someone got to you first. That’s why I came in.”

“Well, I appreciate the thought, but why were you looking for me?” I slipped the sword back onto my belt. Even as a vampire, Frank posed no threat whatsoever. He was a pretty sorry candidate for vamp blood, all things considered. “I’m thinking either you missed the pleasure of my company, or this was supposed to be a hit. And I have to say, I’m leaning toward the first one because the second option makes me laugh.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Frank stared at the floor. “I told you last time, there’s no love lost between me and the family these days. Guess that means you’re the closest thing I got to a real friend.” He glanced up at me. “And you got that fucked up sword, right? I thought if anyone knew about a cure, it’d be you.”

“A cure?” I looked at his sunken eye sockets and the bluish veins spidering out under his skin. Whenever he talked, a pair of rough, stout fangs protruded from inside his lower jaw. They were a little bit crooked in his mouth; not even the blood of a god could fix Frank’s dental challenges. “Yeah, that’s kind of a long-term goal at the moment.” If nothing else, his apparent faith in me was inspiring.

“Figured it woulda been too easy,” he mumbled. “I didn’t know what else to do. Sorry I busted in.”

“Honestly, Frank, there was no harm done. Except that you scared my cat.” I gave him another good once over, feeling the sympathy swell. Despite all those times I’d threatened him with severe bodily harm, I never would have wished this on him.

“Sorry about that, too.” Frank picked his head up abruptly. “Oh, and take this jackass off my hands, would ya?” He shoved one meaty hand into his pocket. Marcus’s medallion dangled from a fistful of gold chain. “I put this thing on when I got here, thinkin’ it might fix my situation, see? But this asshole wouldn’t stop yammering in my ears about how there’s no honor in theft or some shit. Who the hell is this guy? Sounds like he works at one of those renaissance fairs where—”

I snatched the medallion and slipped the chain over my head. “You deserved that. Don’t jack my shit, Frank.” The medallion settled against my chest, pulsing with a gentle warmth. “Marcus?”

Hail, Victoria! At last, we are reunited!

A big smile spread across my face before I could help myself. “Good to hear you again, old man. You won’t believe this, but I think I actually missed you.”

As you should have. Had I known you were gallivanting off to have such adventures, I would not have allowed you to leave me behind.

“In hindsight, that was not the best idea,” I admitted. “That’s my bad. From now on, you and I are inseparable. I promise. But how did you know I was having adventures? I could’ve been sitting around in a jail cell this whole time.”

Please, Victoria. You act as though I have learned nothing of your character in the time we have spent together.

“That’s fair,” I said. Frank was staring at me slack-jawed. I looked away from him.

Also, I was able to view your memories when you donned the medallion again. It is a side effect of this condition, as it were. I saw that bumbling thief’s, as well.

“Oh, really.” I turned back to Frank. “Hold that thought. That might prove useful in a minute.”

“What?” Frank glanced around nervously. He was already sweating. “What are you lookin’ at me like that for? I said I was sorry, didn’t I? I wasn’t gonna steal that crackpot, whoever he is. He sounds like a damn nutcase.”

“Calm down, Frank,” I told him. “No one’s accusing you of anything for once. And now that you’ve given me the amulet, I’d love to know what happened to you. Maybe there’s still a way I can help.”

“You think?” he asked. “Fine. Look, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, girlie. All those bleeding bastards are good as dead to me.” He tugged on his suit and lumbered past me to park it on the sofa. The whole frame shuddered beneath his considerable weight.

If he is lying, I will know, said Marcus. And I will make sure he is punished for his deceit.

“Let’s hear him out before we condemn him to Hell.” I looked at Frank. “Okay. Start at the beginning.”

Chapter Eleven

Frank reclined on my couch, hands folded over his potbelly. The shirt he wore underneath his suit jacket used to be light colored, but now it was streaked with old, rusty bloodstains and who knew what else. The remains of a tie hung like a carcass around his neck. He cleared his throat. “When was the last time we met? At that dive, yeah? That shithole so dark you can barely see your hand in front of your own damn face?”

“Yeah. I think I threatened to bash your nuts in with a glass, or something.”

He shrugged his shoulders, chuckling. “You ain’t the first gal to say that, and you probably won’t be the last.” He sat up and cracked his neck from side to side. “All right, where was I? After you beat it out of there, I left too. Got sick of sitting around inhaling other people’s leftover cigs. I had a lot to think about, you know? I was startin’ to consider the possibility that I wasn’t much of a family man after all, if you get my drift. The thing is, when it’s all you know, it’s all you know. Freedom meant, what? The streets? Do I look like I could make it as a bum?”

I chose not to answer directly. “What happened?”

“Hey,” he said. “I’m getting there. Patience is a virtue you could stand to learn, girlie.”

I crossed my arms and glared at him. “All of mine gets used up by you calling me ‘girlie.’”

Frank’s face blanched, and his chins briefly doubled as he retreated into himself. “I get you,” he acknowledged. “I’ll watch it, okay? Anyhow, I made my way outta the joint, mindin’ my own business, eyes on the horizon, and all of a sudden, this gang jumps me!” He threw up his hands, ratty sleeves flapping like wings. “It was an ambush, I tell you! They were waiting to get me! Everybody knows old Frank hangs out at the shittiest bar in town, so they staked me out.”

“You know who they were?” I pulled out a chair from my table and sat down in it, facing him. I had told the guy he wasn’t being accused of anything, and that was still true, but the conversation was already starting to feel like an interrogation. Frank was possessed of a preternatural ability to know more than he should, even when he didn’t intend to. I was determined to squeeze every last bit of intel out of his greasy pores.

“Couldn’t tell you. They put a fuckin’ bag over my head, if you can believe that. Treated me like a terrorist. I thought I was headed for the damn firing squad.” He grimaced. “I don’t know if I knew them, but they sure knew me. Not even a second of hesitation before they were on me like that.” He snapped his fingers. “I guess they must have put me in a car or a van or something. All I know is, we drove for a while. Took a bunch of turns. They didn’t talk to me, and they didn’t let me see shit until we got where we were going.”

“Then what? They took off the bag?” It sounded to me like he might have been taken to Lorcan’s slaughterhouse, but if that was the case, why the secrecy? Frank was the one who’d tipped me off about the slaughterhouse in the first place. And I definitely hadn’t seen him there.

“Yeah. Threw me in front of a bunch of cops. Firing squad for sure, I figured. But then some lady showed up. It was pretty obvious she was the boss around there.” He fell silent for a moment. “Kinda sexy, kinda creepy. She made this noise like—what do you call those things? Maracas?” He made a shaking motion with both hands that sort of undercut the gravity of his story. “I never seen her before, but she knew what she was doing. She’s the one who gave me the blood.”

“Hmm.” I leaned forward. The woman Frank described sounded like the same one I’d just met on the rooftops. In our brief exchange, she had mentioned neither Lorcan nor any blood. Was it possible she was the one Jules overheard Lorcan discussing? Some of the pieces were beginning to fall into place, though it felt like I was still missing about three-quarters of the puzzle. “How’d she give it to you?” I mimed the act of stabbing a syringe into my arm.

He shook his head. “She made me swallow it. Again: kinda sexy, kinda creepy. Though at that point, mostly creepy.” He shivered a little, thinking about the encounter. “I felt that stuff take hold. It’s like a stranger breaking into your house, killing you, then bringing you back to life. Only the house is your mind, and there’s nothing you can do.” Frank wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His eyes were haunted, his voice down to a husky whisper.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” I said, and I meant it. “I saw what they were doing in the slaughterhouse. I never would have wished it on you.”

“I know.” He managed a sick smile. “You’re just doin’ your job. I know.” He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “She kicked me into a hole. I don’t remember too much about this part except… except it was a human landfill in there, gir—Vic. I can’t even picture it for the life of me. All I can hear is the screaming.” Frank’s skin was an almost translucent grey, dotted with beads of sweat. He looked so awful I wondered if he was going to keel over and die right on my couch.

“Yeah.” That was all I could think to say. Luckily, it seemed to be enough to jog him out of the post-traumatic rut.

“Don’t even know how long they kept me down there. I just know I finally climbed out of that hell tonight. Me and some of the others.” He shook his head. “A lot of them died. I knew—sure I knew—but it’s different when you look over your shoulder, and there’s a whole…” He trailed off. “You ever been to a scrap metal yard for old cars? It was like that, only every car was a human. Used to be a human.” He stared at a spot on the wall. “Can you believe there’s a part of me that wanted this?” He gestured vaguely to his body.

“Really? How come?” If Frank had made this admission the first time we met, I was sure I would’ve ripped him a new one over it. Now he wasn’t much more than a barely living tragedy. I had no anger or mockery to dredge up against him. He was just sad.

“Sounds dumb as hell now, but I figured a vampire must be sexy, right? They make movies about ‘em now, and they all get tons of tail. Seemed like a great life—covered in women, owning the shadows, living forever.” The ghost of a grin passed over his lips. “Turns out it’s a nightmare to get this far. And I’m still not getting numbers.”

I had to laugh at least a little, if only to lighten the atmosphere in the room. The medallion pulsed, and I turned my attention to Marcus. “Well? What’s the verdict? Is he on the level?”

Yes. He has told the most complete truth he can. Marcus’s tone was slightly begrudging, as if he’d been looking forward to Frank’s inevitable beatdown. The goddess of whom he speaks is called Tahn, the Serpent Queen. It is bad luck that she should be here so soon.

“Worse than Lorcan?” I asked.

Immeasurably. Lorcan dreamed of her strength.

“Are you talking to that guy again?” Frank interjected. “What the hell is up with him? I couldn’t figure him out.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I smirked. “If you ever have to talk to him again, I’ll be the middleman. I don’t think he likes you either.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like him,” Frank protested. “But he’s crazy, right? He’s gotta be.”

I object to this man’s very existence.

“Okay, okay.” I held up my hands as if to physically separate them. “I need to get back to my friends. There’s a lot of planning to do, and we need Marcus there.”

“What about me?” Frank asked, somewhat pitifully. His stomach gurgled, and he glanced down. “I’m practically wasting away here. Don’t know when the last time I ate was.”

Before I could formulate an answer, the cat leapt into Frank’s generous lap. She circled, digging her little paws into his knees. He eyed her with a dubious, hungry look: the look of a man weighing a heavy decision. “Don’t even think about it,” I warned. “The clemency you’ve been granted doesn’t cover you devouring my pets, hungry or not.”

I must caution you against furthering your association with this person, Victoria, Marcus advised. He now bears the instincts of a predator, whether he knows how to use them or not. There is no telling what could trigger the power inherent in the blood he received.

“Who, Frank? No way, man. He’s just a little harder to kill now, that’s all. It didn’t make him into a raging psychopath. If he was going to try to kill me, he would’ve done it already. And I would have taken care of the problem. End of story.”

“Me? I’m not a problem. No problem here.” Frank watched me with wide, fearful eyes. “All I want is to come with you, wherever you’re goin’ next. I won’t get in your way or nothing. You won’t even know I’m there.”

I find that extremely difficult to believe.

I tuned Marcus out. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Frank. I was going to say you could stay here if you want to.” I thought of the tenement refugees sheltering in the safehouse. How would they react to seeing a vampire in their midst? I was fairly sure Deacon might read me the riot act for taking such an objectively huge risk—and if he didn’t, his dickhead friend would. It looked bad from the outside. I knew Frank couldn’t possibly be a threat, but no one else did.

And what if I was wrong?

“I can’t stay here alone, Vic. You gotta believe me. They’ll rip me to shreds if they find out I escaped.”

“You broke out?” I was impressed.

“There were a bunch of cops there. They were supposed to take us somewhere else. Don’t ask me where. I just knew I wasn’t about to be carted around like so much livestock, okay? I wasn’t meant for this type of shit. First chance I got, I ran my ass off clear outta there. Maybe they coulda caught me, but they didn’t. Maybe I’m their target practice now.”

“Wouldn’t that make you more of a liability to have with me?”

“It was just a theory! Please, Vic. I can’t be on my own.” The desperation in his voice was palpable and sour. One last powerful wave of sympathy washed over me. As down and out as I had ever been, Frank’s current situation was a million times worse. The least I could do was lend him a hand.

“Fine. But there are rules. Actually, there’s just one rule. No vamp shit. And you have to carry the cat.” Frank nodded eagerly. His stomach growled again. “She better be undigested when we get there, or there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You’re a lifesaver, Vic. Truly.” He pushed himself up off the couch cushion, leaving behind a sizeable dent. “You and me against the world, pussycat. Let’s go.”

I let him lumber out the door in front of me and took one last look around the place, double-checking for anything we might need. A nagging feeling told me this was the last I’d be seeing of my old loft for a while. The moment, brief as it was, felt unexpectedly bittersweet. None of my countless dreams of moving on had ever played out like this.

Worry not, Victoria. We will come home again.

Behind me, Frank clomped his way down the stairs, gingerly cradling the cat in his tree-trunk arms. “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that? You probably wouldn’t taste like chicken anyway.”

Sighing, I closed the door and turned my key in the lock. “Man, I hope he doesn’t make me regret this.”

Are you saying he has yet to do so?

“You’re not helping,” I said. “Hey, but I’ve got an idea. How about we start playing catch-up, with you telling me everything you know about Tahn?”

Marcus took a few moments to reply. You know not what you ask, Victoria. To speak of Tahn is to speak of every riddle the universe has ever written.

“I take it back,” I said. “Start by explaining what the hell that means.”

Chapter Twelve

By the time I got out of the building, Frank was nearly a block ahead of me, his wide, blocky shape shambling down the deserted street. I broke into a jog to catch up. He was faster than he looked. “Didn’t you say you saw Frank’s memories?” I asked Marcus. “Not that I really want to know what those looked like, but they might be important.”

They are relevant in the sense that he, too, has seen Tahn in the flesh. But he knows nothing about her, as he stated previously. She is, I believe, far beyond his level of comprehension. He is only a pawn.

“Look, I get that you don’t like the guy.” I slowed my pace as we drew closer to Frank so that he wouldn’t overhear. He still had his head bent low, probably talking to the cat. “You’re just going to have to tolerate him for now. I’m not abandoning him.”

That is your prerogative, Victoria. I am resolved to trust your judgment, no matter how strongly I disagree on this particular issue.

“Hey, thanks. That means a lot. Now, back to Tahn. What’s her deal? I mean, I’m guessing she’s also from Carcerum, right?”

She is. And when she lived there, her power was almost unrivaled. Few of the others would have ever even dreamed of standing up to her. She could have been a tremendous force for good, had she forged the right alliances.

“But she didn’t? Can’t say I’m surprised.” I thought of those yellow eyes with the thin, menacing pupils. “She didn’t seem like one to act out of the goodness of her heart.”

Yes, that was the root of the problem. Tahn is a deceiver, and as such, none in Carcerum trusted her, especially not Kronin. He was, however, magnanimous enough to allow her to maintain her kingdom in a faraway corner of the realm. And of course, her Apprenti were fiercely dedicated. I imagine they still are.

“Any names to speak of? We got another Lorcan and Delano situation on our hands?”

I doubt it. At least, not to that extent. The mistrust inherent in Tahn’s relationships tends to go both ways. She would not allow any underling to handle her affairs with the same confidence as Lorcan had in Delano. It is not in her nature to act primarily through others, unless she is manipulating them.

“That explains why she showed herself on the roof.” I paused. “You saw that encounter, right? In my memories? Do you know anything about the beast she mentioned?”

The magnificent beast… Marcus trailed off into grim laughter. You should know that Tahn does not utilize her superlatives lightly. If she deems something to be worthy of such a description, it must be very serious. It will not be anything to cough at.

“You mean to sneeze at,” I corrected him, smiling slightly.

We will not get into the evolution of the idiom tonight.

“Okay, sure, but do you know what it is? Am I gonna be fighting some monstrosity directly from Carcerum?”

There are no monstrosities in Carcerum, Marcus told me, sounding slightly affronted. Kronin would never allow it. The Underworld is a different story. I have no conclusive knowledge of how deeply Tahn is tied to that cursed place. It is possible that she could have made some kind of deal.

“She mentioned two other names during our little conference: Beleza and Rocca. I saw Beleza downtown for a minute, before Deacon and I got out of there. Real big guy, looks like a statue, never stops smiling? He had a whole army of weird bodybuilder clones with him.”

I am glad to know how little Beleza has changed. Marcus’s voice was smirking. In Carcerum, he was never the worst of the villains, but he is shallow and easily swayed through lavish praise. Doubtless Tahn knew exactly what to say.

“You don’t sound worried.” I fell casually into step beside Frank, who shot me a furtive glance from under the brim of his hat. He still had the cat cradled in the crook of his elbow, covering her with one giant hand. His eyes had an unsettling gleam.

I am not. Marcus was definitive in his answer, which caught me a little off guard.

“Is that because he’s weak? He was basically just strutting around naked. No armor or anything. I didn’t see a weapon either, except for his cronies.” The prospect of fighting him seemed more like a matter of physics than anything. Get him down, make sure he can’t get back up. Pretty simple, right?

Well, there are no weak gods, but some are stronger than others.

“He sure doesn’t think he’s on the bottom of the totem pole, though. I’ve got a feeling he’s off in his own little world most of the time.” The image of him stomping blithely through the devastated street played over in my head.

What of Rocca? Did you see her? She would not be difficult to find. She is the eye of the storm of Marked. Hers is the chain that made their brands.

I felt a little surge of pride in knowing that I’d been able to guess at her identity. “I saw her, yeah. I guess that chain must summon them, then.”

It acts as a beacon for the Marked, yes. They flock to it as moths to a flame, whether or not they desire to go. Something like a siren song, I suppose. She can control them this way.

A thought I had before tugged at the corner of my brain. “Do you think that means the one we saw in Palo Alto is here?” His name floated right on the tip of my tongue. “Abraham? Ibrahim? Raphael?”

Abraxzael? Perhaps he is here, if his will faltered when Rocca sounded the call. But he is notoriously able to resist under circumstances where he should not be, so it is more likely that he remains free wherever he is. Provided that he has not been captured and imprisoned again.

“Huh. I would’ve thought someone like him might be her secret weapon.” I couldn’t deny that part of me wanted a rematch. There were way more important things to worry about, but I hadn’t forgotten our showdown at Monk’s factory headquarters. Since then, I’d learned a thing or two—and I was sure he had as well.

Do not make the mistake of discounting him entirely. Abraxzael is wily and unpredictable. That is what makes him so dangerous for the gods. He could be lurking in the shadows as we speak.

I glanced around, craning my neck to see past Frank’s considerable bulk. The mobster gave me a suspicious, worried look. “What?” he demanded hoarsely. “You know somethin’ I don’t know?”

“Lots of things, Frank,” I responded without turning my full attention to him. “Next to you, I look like a damn genius. That’s why I keep you around.”

He grunted. “Yeah, yeah. Why don’t you pick on old Frank, just like the rest of ‘em?” He shrugged. “Honestly, I kinda missed it, you know? You get used to a certain thing after long enough.” Having said that, he withdrew back into himself, and I pulled ahead of him to watch out for any approaching hazards and continue my conversation with Marcus in peace. Their mutual disdain for each other was going to get old fast.

“What do you think we should do?” I asked Marcus. My head was on a swivel, always surveying the scene around us. Marcus’s comment about Brax potentially lurking in the shadows had made me realize that my guard was down—but the streets being more or less deserted didn’t necessarily make them safe. Tahn had appeared and disappeared at a moment’s notice, after all.

It is not an easy or apparent solution, Marcus mused in my ears. I am confounded on a few different fronts. What is Tahn doing here, and why is she associating with Lorcan’s minions? It is unlike her to utilize another’s assets in this manner.

“I don’t know.” I frowned. “Come to think of it, it didn’t even sound like she and Rocca and Beleza were on the same side. More like a free-for-all that she intended to win.”

Neither Rocca nor Beleza can hold a candle to Tahn’s brilliance. I suspect they are both more than aware of this fact. However, they may be allowed to exist for as long as they serve a purpose to her. What that purpose may be, I cannot fathom. As I said, Tahn works on levels far above most gods.

“Not the most promising thing you’ve ever said.” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “There must be a way to stop her. How do we do it? Don’t tell me she’s immune to the sword.”

Marcus hesitated. The sword will still hurt her, Victoria, but I am not sure she can be stopped at present. Not like this.

I actually froze mid-stride, stunned. “What the hell? Not you, too.” Never had I imagined that Marcus would be taking Deacon’s side over mine. They barely knew each other! “Marcus, you can’t be serious. I’m not letting that snake-eyed bitch rule New York!”

Of course, this would not be a permanent arrangement. We need time to regroup and perhaps to recruit. We have done what we could to keep the gods at bay, but I do not need to tell you they are no longer. The war has broken, and strong as you are, one person is not enough. The Gladius Solis cannot defeat a darkness of this magnitude alone.

“Look, I understand what you’re saying, but this feels like giving up.” Frustrated, I rubbed my knuckles over my eyes. “I can’t turn my back on a whole city. I can’t.”

Let us call it a tactical retreat for now. Our losses will be much greater if we attempt to stay here and fight off the onslaught. We do not have that kind of sacrifice to make. He sighed. I know it is hard, Victoria. I know this is your home. These decisions do not come without gravity.

“It’s really come to this?” A knot formed in the back of my throat, a visceral reaction I wasn’t expecting. To stem the unwelcome tide of emotion, I clamped my mouth shut and kept walking so that Frank wouldn’t catch up.

Wisdom is often not without pain, Marcus said gently. When I was a young soldier, there was a city built as a stronghold atop the cliffs overlooking a sea. Its walls were high and daunting, meant to stymie the most brutal of attacks. The people who lived there were proud of this place, and rightly so. They considered themselves unassailable. For a long time, this belief went unchallenged.

Then, war broke out. The tide of battle surged right to the walls of this cliffside city, and it fell under siege. Weeks passed while their stubborn ruler held his ground. It is true that the walls proved impassable at first, but they were soon turned against him. The city’s lifeblood was cut off at the source. The citizens began to starve. The militia withered under a constant barrage. And eventually, because of his staunch refusal to back down, the leader of that once illustrious city lost everything. It is a ruin over the sea now, its walls crumbling. This is not the fate I want for your New York.

I took a deep breath, holding it in for a few seconds just to feel it sit in my lungs. “I hear you,” I said, exhaling. “That’s not the fate I want either.”

Remember, the picture is much larger than New York. The whole human world is at stake. To protect it, concessions must be made. For now.

“‘For now’ won’t bring these people back,” I murmured.

And you are not immortal. Your death means the end for everyone in this realm, of which this city is but a small piece. It is close to your heart, yes, but you must set that aside.

“No, you’re right. You’re completely right. Millenia of battle-worn wisdom from a literal ancient spirit trumps every misgiving I have in my heart right now.” I chewed my lip. “That’s an objective fact, and I know it, even if I don’t like it.”

You have come far, Victoria. I am proud of you.

“Thanks.” I grinned a little. “I hope you can forgive me.”

What? He sounded startled, which made me want to laugh despite the lump that still hadn’t quite dissolved in my throat.

“You’re right,” I said again. “I wish I could do all that stuff you just said, Marcus, but I can’t. For better or worse, I can’t ignore my gut instincts, and I would never be able to live with myself if I just left. We have to do something.”

There was silence from the medallion for a long time. Not an acrimonious silence, just the sound of Marcus mulling over my rebellion. I kept walking, checking over my shoulder to make sure Frank didn’t wander off. He was there, shuffling along behind me, lost in his own thoughts. The cat peered over his arm at me. At least he’d kept his promise about that.

Victoria, Marcus said finally.

“What?” I almost jumped.

I respect your decision. That being said, it is crucial that you understand we will likely need to leave this vicinity no matter what we choose to do now. Will you be able to do so when the time comes?

“If it does, yes.” I gritted my teeth. “I promise I’ll be able to leave if it’s time. It’s not time yet.” To be honest, I dreaded that moment. New York City may have always been a dirty, smelly shithole in my mind, but I never wanted to think of it as lost.

All right. I am comforted by your resolve. Let us press forward.

“You got it.” I beckoned to Frank. “Time to pick up the pace. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

That was the first time I ever saw Frank run—I think he surprised himself, too. I can’t say it was pretty, but there was a kind of poetry in it. We made an odd pair, the two of us, charging down an empty street in the city I claimed as mine.

The gods would have to pry New York from my hands. And I was ready to fight like hell.

Chapter Thirteen

I stood beneath the windows of the safehouse, glancing between Frank and the old fire escape zigzagging up the façade. It wasn’t that high—maybe five stories at most—but I had concerns about whether he’d even be able to fit his considerable bulk onto the ladder. Worst case scenario, he’d bring the whole thing down on his own head. “Good thing he’s undead now,” I muttered.

“What are we waitin’ for?” Frank’s eyes darted nervously back and forth along the barren sidewalk. “Let’s get in there.”

“Up there, you mean.” I pointed.

He cranked his head back, squinting despite the fact that it was dark out now. His eyes gave off an eerie glow in their sockets. “Don’t worry about it. That? Easy.” Opening his jacket, Frank tucked the cat carefully into an inside pocket. “You stay there, angel. Uncle Frank’s got you.” Then he reached out and grasped the lowest rung of the ladder. I held my breath as he hoisted himself up, watching for the entire apparatus to start listing like a sinking ship. It creaked enough to churn my stomach, but by some miracle, it held. Flakes of rust and black paint rained down from underneath Frank’s shoes, but it didn’t collapse.

When I was reasonably convinced he’d make it without disaster, I followed. The metal frame quaked with every step he took until he was safely atop the platform outside the window. I could hear him wheezing two floors down. More than ever, it struck me as critically important that we started expanding downward—if only to keep Frank’s heart from giving out.

Perhaps we can build a trebuchet and launch him at the enemy, Marcus suggested.

“Can it, Gramps,” I told him. “He’s here whether you like it or not. He’ll find a way to help.”

I admire your unabashed optimism, Victoria, Marcus replied. But he kept the remainder of his opinions to himself, for which I was grateful. I climbed onto the grate and knocked on the window while Frank pounded his chest. Just before Maya opened the pane, he spit something nasty onto the pavement below.

Maya started off smiling but stopped in a hurry when she saw Frank. He squeezed his way into the building, and as I shut the window behind us, he withdrew the cat from inside his coat.

“Hi, Maya.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring grin. “This is my buddy, Frank. Don’t mind his appearance. He’s had a rough couple of days.”

“Look! That guy’s got a kitty!” A little boy broke away from his mother’s protective grasp and darted over to Frank. “Can I see, mister? Can I?” He was rapidly joined by his younger sister. The flock around Frank grew steadily, which was how I noticed that the number of inhabitants inside the safehouse had increased.

Frank smiled. “Be gentle, kiddos. She might be scared. I don’t want her to scratch ya or nothin’.”

Frank looked toward us and waved awkwardly. I shot back a thumbs-up.

Maya shrugged. “The more the merrier, I guess.” A slight frown crossed her face as she watched him for another minute, and then she shook her head. “I need to get back to tending wounds.” She glanced apologetically at me. “I know what you’re gonna say, Vic, and yes, we are over capacity. I can’t help it. I know there’s still people out there.”

“I don’t blame you, but we’re gonna need to branch out from here pretty soon if you want to continue.” I turned in a semi-circle, observing the chaotic scene. “Where’s Jules?"

“Jules is in the back. There’s a woman with a newborn. I should probably go check on them. Can you talk to Deacon? Maybe he and his friend could help.” With that, she moved toward the hall leading to the bedrooms and left me to my own devices. I had nearly lost sight of Frank among the crowd of eager children, but I could see a big, sort of goofy smile plastered on his face. It was pretty heartwarming, I had to admit.

“Hey, Vic.” Deacon seemed to materialize out of nowhere at my side. He tracked my gaze to Frank, and he frowned too. “Wait. Don’t tell me that’s… Frank?”

“You know him?”

The frown did not go away. “Yeah, I know him. Mostly harmless, standard lowlife. As far as I know, he was never more than a lackey. But—” He sucked in his breath sharply. “Holy shit, he’s been vamped. What the hell is he doing here?”

“Stop.” I put a hand on his arm. “Relax. Frank and I have history, okay? I brought him here. He’ll be fine. He’s under strict ‘no vamp shit’ restrictions.”

“I’m supposed to trust he’s not going to snap and kill everyone in this place just because you told him not to?” Deacon hadn’t taken his eyes off the mobster. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Vic.” His hand hovered close to the holster at his waist.

“Deacon, cut it out. Frank’s a special case, all right? Yeah, they turned him, but he broke out and came looking for a cure. I doubt he would’ve done that if he’d already gotten indoctrinated. You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

Deacon wasn’t happy, I could tell, but he breathed a grudging sigh and backed off. “Fine. You know I trust you, and I guess it’s damn near unconditional at this point. I just hope you’re not wrong.”

“I’m never wrong,” I said brightly. “Now, where’s Trent? We’ve got to start thinking about expanding our base of operations here, and I think we could use his help.” Trent was currently nowhere to be seen. I resisted the urge to undercut Deacon’s ex-partner with some kind of disparaging remark. Trust, I had learned, was a two-way street.

“Way ahead of you.” Deacon gestured toward the actual front door of the apartment. “He’s scouting out other floors as we speak. It became pretty clear soon after you left that this wasn’t a sustainable situation.”

“Don’t blame Maya,” I said. “She’s not the type who can sit around without helping someone. I’d like to think none of us are.”

“No, of course.” He gave me a look. “But why didn’t you—”

“Vic?” Maya’s voice cut into the middle of his question. “Can you come help me out for a sec?”

I swiveled in a circle until I pinpointed her location. “Hold that thought, Deacon. I’ll be back.” Threading my way through the crowded room was like navigating a living obstacle course. Several sizes of children still huddled around Frank, vying for a chance to pet the cat. I heard them fighting over names for her as I passed. If nothing else, Frank was perfect for mediating squabbles—all he had to do was hold each kid at arm’s length with opposite hands, and they could barely hear each other, let alone fight. Who would’ve thought a mobster-turned-vamp would make a decent babysitter?

Maya knelt next to an open first-aid kit, applying ointment to a deep cut on someone’s leg. She beamed at me over her shoulder with an intensity that I found a little bit suspect. “Thanks so much, Vic. See, this is the one I was telling you about. Like I said, she’s seen a lot more action than me. You can ask her whatever you want.”

“Wha—” The word wasn’t even fully out of my mouth before a kid in a hoodie and a mop of brown hair was right in front of my face. I caught a glimpse of Maya mouthing the word sorry. She turned her attention back to the wounded patient as the kid started talking.

“Yo, awesome! It’s so cool to meet you guys. I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be saying this stuff is cool because, like, the city is going up in smoke. But at least it got me out of my math midterm, right?” An awkward laugh stumbled out.

I stared at him. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, ‘you guys’?” What had Maya told him?

You are already becoming the stuff of legend, Victoria. Marcus’s voice carried a note of pride. I mentally glared at him. Depending on what she’d said, this could be a total catastrophe.

“Maya told me about how she wasn’t the only one,” the kid gushed. “She said there were more of you, and that she’s not even the coolest. Which is kind of hard to believe, no offense.” He laughed again. I looked somewhat desperately to Maya for help, but she was either completely engrossed in her work, or steadfastly ignoring me.

“Hold on.” I held up my hands, hoping that would be enough to stem the tide of words. “Walk me back just a tad here. When did she say this? And who are you?”

“Oh, right.” He scratched the back of his neck. His boyish face flushed. “I’m, uh, I’m Adam Rockwell. I was a student at NYU.” His eyes flicked toward the window. “I guess I still am? It’s not real clear, to be honest.”

“Uh huh.” I nodded. “And how did you meet Maya?”

His face lit up again, the toothy smile crinkling the freckles at the corners of his eyes into creases. “Dude, it was freakin’ crazy! I was hunkered down in my apartment, right? Waiting to see if my roommate was gonna come back, and I started hearing this ruckus out in the street. I looked out my front window, and I saw these guys out there, all tatted up, you know?” He made a vague swirling motion over his torso. “At first, I thought they were a gang, ‘cause they were smashing in windows and stuff, so I figured they were looting. Then I realized, hey, these guys are glowing! I’m telling you, that blew my mind. I mean, I’ve heard of UV tats before, but I didn’t think anyone actually got them.”

Listening to him was exhausting. “And then what?” I asked, praying he’d take the hint and get to the point.

“That’s when I saw her walking up the street like it was nothing, totally natural. She was right in front of my place when she did it.” His eyeballs were in danger of popping straight out of his head with excitement.

“Did what?” I had my suspicions, but I wanted to make sure he had witnessed her transformation beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“She turned into a dang werewolf, man! For real!” Presumably to describe the vast difference in size between Maya and Were-Maya, he threw his arms out to the sides, earning himself a couple stink-eyes as he narrowly avoided punching the people around him. “It was incredible! I didn’t know hot babes could do that!”

I rubbed a hand across my face. “And then?”

“And then she kicked some serious ass! You would’ve thought those guys were ragdolls the way she tossed them around. I was waiting for her to snap one of them in half with her teeth or something, but no dice. Not—not that I’m complaining. I don’t know if I could actually, you know, watch that. In real life.”

That admission made me feel a little better, but not much. This kid Adam was still way too into it. “You came out of your apartment after that?”

“Well, no.” He cleared his throat. “She knocked on the door. Said she was looking for people who needed evacuation and told me I should go with her.” He made an exaggerated shrugging motion. “Hottie who can also turn into a monster whenever she wants? You don’t have to tell me twice. That’s when she told me about you, on our way here.” For the first time, his expression leaned back toward the somber end of the spectrum. “I did leave a note for my roommate, though. Just in case.” Again, he cleared his throat. “I’m… sure he found a way out.”

“Yeah. Who knows? Maybe he’ll turn up here.” I patted Adam’s shoulder, feeling a twinge of sympathy. “How old are you?”

“Twenty.” The grin came back full force, and this time, he wiggled his eyebrows. “About the same age as Maya, right? Is she single? Tell me she’s single.”

I smirked. “She’s single. And gay.”

The expression of triumph fell off his face as quickly as it had arrived. “Aw, man.” He sighed. “All right. She’s still crazy cool.”

“That she is. You’re lucky she found you. Sit tight, okay? I need to take care of some stuff.” I used the semi-awkward moment to start easing myself out of the conversation, leaving Adam to reconcile his disappointment.

My eyes searched for Deacon in the sea of faces. Like Trent, he seemed to have vanished into thin air.

“What’s with these guys?” I murmured to myself.

I quite liked that boy, Marcus said. Very boisterous. An admirable trait to have retained in such times as these.

“I guess. Maybe next time I’ll let him put you on, and you can chat with him instead.” Once more, I checked for Deacon. Through a doorway that apparently led into the kitchen, I caught a glimpse of black shoes and black tailored suit pants. “There we go.”

I wondered what he was doing in the kitchen—until I stepped across the threshold and saw the small armory he had amassed and laid out on the table. All the knives from the block on the counter were arranged by size, including the ones meant for steak. They were accompanied by a couple dusty cans of mace, a small fire extinguisher, and a broken wine bottle where the bottom third morphed into nasty shards.

“Rough,” I said. “Did you make that yourself?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He was still hunting for weapons in the drawers and cabinets. Empty beer bottles stood lined up on the longest stretch of countertop. “Those guys were in the recycling. If we find some gas, we can make Molotov cocktails.”

I leaned on the edge of the counter. “Good thought, though I feel like anything that causes the spread of raging fires probably ought to be a last resort.”

“I was a Boy Scout. Always be prepared.”

I laughed. “You never told me you were a Boy Scout.”

“Yeah, well, you never told me Maya was a werewolf, so I guess we’re even.”

“Touché. That’s my bad. I should have warned you. She’s no threat to us if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing. We could use some more unconventional allies in this fight, and she’s obviously in control of herself.” He paused, smiling dryly. “Near about shit myself when she first turned, though. I thought everything was about to go deep south until she tore into the bad guys.”

“You were out there, then? When she drove back those Marked assholes?”

“Yeah. Silly me assumed she needed an escort. I’m still glad I was there, but I’m even more glad she can take care of herself.”

I wondered briefly why Adam hadn’t made any mention of Deacon. Then I realized he had likely been so consumed by Maya’s charm and beauty that he hadn’t even noticed the FBI agent at all. “Me too,” I said absently. “She was training a lot before the shit hit the fan. Good to know it’s paying off.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Deacon opened another cabinet. “She was a monster, but she was also strangely beautiful.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m cracking up. I don’t know.”

“No, it’s awesome. Like in the sense that it’s awe-inspiring? I know what you mean, is what I’m trying to say. I’m not sure she feels the same.”

Deacon finished rifling through the last cupboard and turned around to observe his findings. “Not much. Better than nothing.”

“Now all we need is a plan,” I said. “Think it’s time for a communal debriefing?”

“Yeah.” Deacon strode toward the doorway. “Let’s go get the band back together.”

Chapter Fourteen

We walked back into the living room to see a knot of people gathering around the television. I sent Deacon to snag Maya for our team meeting. “Where’s Trent?” I asked. “We might need him too.”

“Good question.” Deacon turned in a circle, scouring the room. “He should be back by now.”

“See if you can find him. I’ll grab Jules.” I headed to the bedrooms to find her. She was sitting in a makeshift nursery with a blanket spread over her lap, cradling a sleeping baby in her arms. The baby’s mother rested nearby on a half-covered mattress.

“Jules.” I kept my voice low, so as not to disturb either mother or child.

She glanced up and smiled widely. “Hey, Vic! You’re back.”

“Yeah.” I motioned behind me toward the door. “Can I borrow you for a few minutes? We’re strategizing.”

“Oh, sure.” Jules scooted over and gently nudged the woman on the mattress, who opened her eyes and gave us a timid smile. “I need to go with her.” Jules pointed at me. “I’ll be back in a little bit, okay?” She stood up and pulled the blanket up over the mom’s shoulders. We tiptoed out of there.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Jules,” I told her once we’d made it into the hall. “You’re so much better at this than I would be.”

She shrugged modestly. “I’m not much of a fighter, so I’m helping however I can. I just wish I could be in more than one place at a time. Everyone here could use a friendly face. And a babysitter.”

“Got you covered there.” I waved to Frank, who freed himself from his flock of new admirers and lumbered toward us. He no longer had my cat in his arms, but I could see her being cooed over by starry-eyed kids.

“That guy doesn’t look so good, Vic,” Jules murmured.

“Don’t worry. It’s a long story, but he’s on our side.” On the other end of the room, we met up with Deacon and Maya. Frank sort of wedged himself into the background, pulling his hat over his face. I spotted Trent’s lanky form leaning against the windowsill, his back to the blacked-out windows. He’d turned up after all. I resisted the urge to ask where the hell he’d been for so long. Deacon trusted him, and I trusted Deacon. The thought became a mantra in my head.

“Keep close to the window,” Deacon said. “We’ll have a little bit of privacy if we keep the volume down. No one wants to come over here if they can help it because they don’t want to be seen.” He nodded toward the audience surrounding the television. “And they’ve been hypnotized by the news. Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

I couldn’t believe there were people out there still managing to broadcast anything, but at least there wasn’t a total media blackout.

“All right guys, here’s the deal.” We pulled into a loose huddle, and I explained the situation as briefly and logically as I could. “There are three main players right now: Beleza, the naked dude with the army of muscle heads; Rocca, the commander of the demons and centaurs—basically anything with a chain tattoo; and Tahn, the ringleader. Marcus says Tahn is the one we really need to watch out for.”

That is correct. If we do not keep a close watch upon her, Tahn will wreak havoc upon the mortal realm even more so than she has already done.

“Okay, but Beleza is the one all over the air.” Jules pointed at the TV just as a clip of the bronzed god parading down the street came up on the screen. This was followed by much darker, shakier footage from a handheld device, showing him perched inside a palanquin borne by a legion of his men. Without even getting down from his mobile throne, he swung out a huge fist and socked a dent in a statue. As the torso crumbled off into chunks, a swarm of Beleza’s lackeys moved in to finish tearing it down.

“What the—” The camera panned up and out, across what I recognized as the Upper Bay. It stopped as the Statue of Liberty came into view. A murmur flew through the TV viewers that rapidly escalated into a low roar of indignation. My jaw dropped open. “Holy shit! Are they… reworking her?”

Several of Beleza’s soldiers had already scaled the statue and were beginning to work on her crown, dismantling the radiant spikes. Others worked on the shape of her face, her features, her stance. It was clear whose image they sought to replicate.

The newscaster spoke over the video. “What you’re watching now is footage shot minutes ago by a civilian passerby in Lower Manhattan. We are witnessing the defacing of an icon of the human race, the erasure of what we stand for as Americans. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I’m still out here, weathering the storm. This is something you need to see. My name is Steve Stephenson, formerly of Channel 2 WCBS, and I’ll continue to be your eyewitness news source for as long as I’m able.”

The audio cut out after that, and a moment later, so did the video feed. I stared at the muddled screen. “Did he say his name was Steve Stephenson?”

Jules pursed her lips. “I think I might have seen him doing a feature once or twice. Heaven knows he’ll never make anchor with a name like that.”

“We should be grateful for it,” Deacon said. “That’s probably the only reason he was able to fly under the radar enough to get his hands on a camera.” He glanced at me. “Where’s your head at on this, Vic? I gotta say, it’s not looking good out there.”

“Looks damn near hopeless to me.” Trent spoke up for the first time, arms folded across his chest, staring stone-faced at the floor. “They’re taking over. “

I scowled at him, not bothering to hide my distaste. “Don’t talk like we’re finished already. The gods haven’t won yet.”

“And how do you know that’s what they are?” He fixed me with a piercing look. “You seem to have an awful lot of information for someone who’s just a civilian with a fancy weapon.”

“Back off, Trent.” Deacon spoke sharply, holding up his hand. “Now’s not the time to be picking fights. What’s with you?”

Trent resumed both his sullen silence and his staring at the floor. A beat of tense quiet passed, during which I attempted to grasp exactly what was happening. I had thought Trent and I were on relatively good terms, and now this? A bad feeling curled its way into the pit of my stomach.

Focus your mind, Victoria. This insolence can be dealt with in due time.

“There’s no way we can stay in this building,” Maya said, redirecting my attention. “Not if the gods are this close. It’s only a matter of time before they start demolishing these residential blocks, isn’t it? He probably wants to rearrange the whole damn city to look like him.”

Beleza is obsessed with that which he considers beautiful, Marcus added. Even if his goal were not to raze this metropolis completely, an older, more run-down place like this is sure to be eliminated.

“Shit.” My mind raced. Moving a horde of displaced refugees seemed like a bad idea of staggering proportions, but I knew Maya and Marcus were right. I was determined not to leave New York to burn, but we couldn’t stay where we were. Where the hell could I put everyone that I knew they’d be safe?

That was the billion-dollar question, wasn’t it?

“He’s back!” someone shouted from in front of the television. All of us pivoted as the screen cleared, showing Steve Stephenson disembarking from a painted news van. He was pointing the camera at himself and glancing off at something we couldn’t see. The jostling of his movement made the image jumpy.

“What’s he doing?” I wondered. “He wouldn’t just get out if he didn’t see something.”

Is this man a soldier? His actions during this time of crisis are both noble and courageous. Perhaps we should seek to recruit him.

I shook my head. “He’s a reporter. He needs to be out there, doing exactly what he’s doing right now. I agree he’s got some massive balls, though.”

Stephenson bent over, and the feed stabilized. He backed up a few steps until he was totally in the frame.

“Steve Stephenson here again. I really, really hope someone’s watching.” His clothes were stained with soot and dirt. He’d lost his tie. “I’m standing here in Lower Manhattan, if you can believe that.” The scene behind him was eerie, silent. Almost every light was out—Stephenson himself stood in the light of the camera’s built-in lamp. He gestured behind him at the same moment that a brief scream pierced the darkness at his back. Stephenson jumped. He peered into the shadows for a few long moments before slowly returning to face the camera. “It’s grim out here, folks. If you’re safe, and I sincerely hope you are, please stay put. We have to believe that a rescue is…” The reporter trailed off, watching something offscreen. “What’s that? Hold on.” He ran forward, snatching up his recording apparatus. The jumbled noise of running overtook the speakers.

“I’ll be honest,” I said, tearing my gaze away from the screen. “I have no clue how we’re going to get this many people down the fire escape, let alone through that apocalyptic hell.”

Maya grabbed my hand. “Come on, Vic. We don’t have another choice. If Beleza comes here while we’re inside, we’re all going to die.”

“I know.” I ran my fingers through my hair, trying not to let the frustration show. “I just don’t want to lose anyone during the transport.”

Maya grew quiet. “Neither do I.” The gears turned in her head so intensely that she furrowed her brow with the effort. “I’d like to get somewhere I can make a call. Remember Smitty and Amber? They could be a huge help… if they can get here.”

An image of the old blacksmith and his fiery granddaughter flashed in my mind. We had left them 2500 miles behind in the Washington country, but if anyone knew how to find a way to get across the country, it would be Amber for sure. I highly doubted that a lack of airplanes would stop her. “Not a bad idea. We need all the help we can get. Even if it’s on the other coast right now.” If nothing else, it was a place to start.

“Maybe they know a little more about what’s going on outside. The news is helpful, but it’s all New York, all the time.” Maya surveyed the population of the safehouse. Her frown deepened. “I shouldn’t have brought everyone up here. It seemed like a good idea at the time—good point of view, easily defensible entrance—but getting out is going to be a nightmare.”

“Maya, shush.” I squeezed her hand. “You’ve done an amazing job. There are going to be a lot of challenges, no matter what we do. We’ll get through.”

“Cell service is still awful,” Jules said. “Sometimes, I can get signal for like five seconds, but then it’s out again.”

Frank moved forward. “I can get ‘em down, Vic. I’ll carry whoever you want. Piece of cake.” As if to illustrate the truth of his statement, he patted his upper arms.

“You nearly coughed out a lung just getting yourself up here,” I reminded him. “Still, I appreciate it. You’d be good at the bottom, helping people off the ladder.”

“Some of the kids were scared to come up,” Maya said. “They like him, so maybe they’ll have an easier time climbing down if they see he’s on the ground.”

Frank nodded, beaming. “See? They love old Uncle Frank. I’ll have the cat with me. They can’t resist it.”

Trent suddenly shoved himself upright, turning his head away. “This is fucking insane,” he muttered.

I chose to ignore him. All things considered, it didn’t sound like too bad a plan. We’d just have to move fast and avoid a traffic jam on either end.

“Uh…” one of the refugees closest to us cut in, jerking his thumb at the TV. “You guys might want to see this.” I stepped closer to try and get a better look.

Stephenson stood on the street. Whether it was the same one or different, I couldn’t tell. His partly combed dark hair blended into the night, and so did the man who stood beside him, except for a stern, impassive face and a white shirt. The new guy was dressed kind of like Deacon usually was, and he was surrounded by others in the background. A wired earpiece tracked down into his jacket.

“I’m standing with Agent Gardner of the Federal Catastrophe Division. He has a message for any survivors. Please listen carefully, and do your best to comply. This is a critical situation. We are trying to save your lives.” Stephenson held the microphone out to the suited man, who took it from him.

“Do you know this guy?” I asked Deacon. He shook his head. Trent didn’t react at all.

“First and foremost,” the suit was saying, “do not panic. An evacuation point is being set up at Madison Square Garden. You are strongly encouraged to move to that location if at all possible. Law enforcement and medical staff are on standby as the military is being brought in to handle this situation. Extreme caution should be exercised in transit.”

Maya caught my eye somewhat pleadingly. “Let’s go, Vic. They already have things in place. They’re expecting us.”

“That’s the problem.” Something about this arrangement struck me as fishy. I didn’t like the look of this man, given what Deacon and I had experienced at the FBI building, and I didn’t like that Deacon didn’t know him. “I think it might be a trap.” To Deacon, I asked, “What’s the Federal Catastrophe Division?”

“I don’t know for sure, but that doesn’t mean it’s not a real thing.” Deacon pinched the bridge of his nose. “The Bureau was making tons of specialized task forces before things went south, like the group I was with out in Washington. They compartmentalized the shit out of it. We only knew what we needed to know to do what we were told. And I wasn’t even close to the highest security level, which means there was definitely other stuff I had no clue about. Makes sense in practice, but it sure is frustrating under the current circumstances.” He sighed. “At least they’re finally calling in the big guns. That much, I think is the right thing to do.”

“Vic, please,” Maya persisted. “We’re backed into a corner. These people have to go somewhere.”

The refugees were starting to tune into our discussion. I looked up to see a multitude of eyes turned toward me, expectant, waiting. Talk began to buzz within the room, low at first, but climbing. “This is bullshit! We can’t just sit here!”

“We’ll be fish in a barrel if we go there. Why don’t they just package us up and hand us over?”

“Mama, I’m scared. I don’t want to go out there again.”

The time for deliberation amongst ourselves had just come to a screeching halt.

Be cautious, Victoria. The masses are not known for their level temperament.

Solid counsel from the resident Roman ghost, but things couldn’t be helped. The refugees had voices, and obviously, they had opinions, too. The worst thing for all of us would be a wholesale mutiny. It was time to open the forum to the public—whether we liked it or not.

Chapter Fifteen

I moved toward the front of the room, aiming to position myself as close to the TV as possible. Deacon stepped in to help clear a path. Every second, I felt the unrest in the room grow deeper. Raised voices emanated from somewhere in the back. A woman started to cry, and then so did a baby.

“Hold on!” I called out as soon as I turned to face the group. “Stay calm. We’re not going to get anywhere if we fall apart now.”

“Who’re you?” someone asked. The group pushed a little closer to me.

“My name is Vic. If we move, I’ll be leading us. For now, I want to know what you guys think. I don’t expect you to just blindly follow me into potential danger.” They looked at each other and back at me. The snippets of conversation fell away. “Come on. I’m serious. Let me hear it.”

“There’s not that much room in there,” someone said. “Eight million people in New York, and the government wants to put us in an arena that’s only got twenty thousand seats, tops. Typical.” His remarks were met with a few murmurs of agreement. “How do we know it’s not already full up? That jerk coulda gotten on camera just to save face. I bet they turn us away when we get there.”

“You’d rather stay here, then?” someone shot back. “Hiding in a two-bedroom deathtrap with no outside light and no security? At least we’ll be protected there.”

“Twenty thousand is a skewed number anyway,” said a third voice. “That’s just the number of tickets they sell, and it’s just to fill the outer rim. They’re gonna be packing the middle, and if they do that, maybe they can fit way more. Fifty thousand? Sixty? Who knows? Seems like it’s worth a shot to me.”

I did my best to match faces to voices during this back-and-forth. All the inhabitants of the safehouse were battered and bedraggled, but the debate sparked fire in at least some of their eyes. That was heartening to see.

“Don’t shoot the messenger, but even fifty thousand is a fraction of the numbers who could still be here.” Frank’s gruff, slightly hoarse voice stuck out like a sore thumb. “Three million is my estimate, and that’s bein’ conservative. A lotta bodies are going to be shut out of the MSG no matter what. No two ways around it.”

“All the more reason we should leave right now!” This woman wavered on the edge of hysteria. “I have two babies. I’ll do anything to keep them safe!” She promptly burst into tears, but she kept talking. “If they have a better chance somewhere else, that’s where we’re going. I just want them to live through this.”

Her kids clung to their mother as she spoke. They looked like twins, moon faced, with huge dark eyes. I saw Maya cover her mouth, her shoulders slumping. Jules put an arm around her.

“What happens when we bring our kids back on the street?” someone asked. “We were lucky to get out of the other place. We were lucky to make it here. How much longer can that luck hold out? I don’t know, but I’d rather risk my life trying! We’re sittin’ ducks here! The lady’s just thinking about her kids, for Pete’s sake.”

“And someone said we’ll be fish in a barrel there!” another voice shouted.

“Screwed if we do, screwed if we don’t, so I say we do it. We ain’t got that much to lose.”

I rubbed my palm down the length of my face, groaning. “Maybe this was a bad idea. I could’ve tried to herd them like sheep.”

Nonsense, Victoria. We both know you possess too much honor to simply move human beings like cattle. And if these people are anything like you are, they would have defied you anyway. Who knows how many you could have lost then? At least they have a chance to arrive at a shared conclusion this way.

“Right, but I feel like the clock is ticking. If we all die shouting at each other, none of this is going to make a difference.”

Tell me your opinion, as frankly, it is the one I hold in the highest esteem. And then I will tell you mine, and we will see where we stand. There is a solution. I am sure of it.

“Hmm.” I stepped back for a second to think, tuning out the rising din around me.

Frank had stepped in to break up a shouting match. Jules was comforting the mother with the twins. The immediate scene was, to all appearances, giving way to chaos. How could we carve out some order?

“Well, I still think there’s a good chance it’s a trap and we’re all going to be marching into certain death, or at least captivity. But Deacon couldn’t say beyond a shadow of a doubt that the agent on the news wasn’t the real deal, so it could be an opportunity we’d miss if we didn’t go. What I’m stuck on is if the chance of success is worth the risk of failure.”

Let us start with this: what do you want to do?

“I want to get the hell out of Dodge. I know Beleza isn’t messing around. He’s landscaping the city, and he’ll be here eventually. But I don’t want to skip town entirely, and I don’t want to leave this group to fend for themselves. I can’t.” Maya would never forgive me, but more than that, I’d never forgive myself. “There are a lot of children here, Marcus. They’ve got a snowball’s chance in Hell without us.”

I cannot fault you for that assessment, Victoria. Marcus hesitated, choosing his words carefully. And though I find your convictions more than laudable, my original advice remains the same. You are the world’s greatest asset in this fight. We can lose a battle without losing the war, but if we lost you, the war would be over.

I shook my head vigorously. “No, Marcus. I understand where you’re coming from, but no. I’ll repeat this a thousand times if I need to. I can’t leave. I can’t.” I didn’t like disagreeing with Marcus on such a key point. I also knew we were never going to see eye to eye in this case.

I know you cannot. I respect your valor. Therefore, if you would like to save as many lives as possible before you leave, I recommend we go to this square garden. If others have already begun to congregate there, then it is your best opportunity to round up the greatest number. That being said, I agree it is likely to be a trap of some kind. Tahn is clever and cunning, and she cares not for the lives she destroys. I would not put it past her to devise a scheme of this magnitude.

“Shit.” I paced like a tiger in a cage, rubbing my temples. The pressure threatened to weigh me down. Falling into a trap set by the gods would be devastating in more ways than one, and yet, the idea of leaving New York behind was equally unfathomable. “Think, Vic, think! Where’s the middle ground here?”

Deacon slipped up next to me. “Can I help?”

“Maybe,” I responded. “Where’s your friend with the car and the smokes? If he wanted to show his face, now would be a really great time.”

He shrugged. “If I had access to a resource like that whenever I wanted, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Damn it.” I balled my hands into tight fists and released them, stretching my fingers. “Is this ever going to get any fucking easier?”

“Probably not.” Deacon laid his hand on my shoulder. “But you’re getting stronger, and that’s almost the same thing.”

Surprised, I picked my head up, locking eyes with him. A vague smile tilted his lip. Some of the tension accumulating behind my neck and shoulders ebbed away, and I found myself able to smile back. “Thanks, Deacon. I needed to hear that.”

“We all do, some days. I stand by what I said back in the street, Vic. I’m with you, and I’ll be here till we reach the end of this, whatever that looks like. Do what you already know is best. I’m guessing you actually made your mind up a while ago. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

I could have expressed a similar sentiment. I suspect, however, that it would not have had the same effect. For a number of reasons.

I hoped Marcus could feel me telling him to shut the hell up. And Deacon was right. Since the beginning of this whole mess, I had known there was only one strategy that would let me sleep at night.

“Okay, here’s what we do,” I said.

Deacon put two fingers in his mouth and whistled, the sound sailing high above the background hubbub of talking, arguing, and crying. An immediate silence crashed down.

“Here’s what we do,” I said again, looking askance at him. “We can’t afford to assume it’s a trap. I won’t be responsible for so many lives lost.” A few of the refugees in the front began to shout in protest. I held up my hands. “If anything seems even the least bit screwy, we’ll tell you, I swear. Our team’s been through a lot. Between us, we will be able to tell if something isn’t right.”

From the side, Jules nodded encouragingly. Maya wiped a tear from her cheek and grinned at me. “Thank you,” she said, so quietly I barely heard her.

“Can I ask you a question, Vicky?” The guy who stepped forward was lean and scrappy, clad in a pair of ripped jeans and a well-worn leather jacket. Patchy stubble colored his jawline. From a distance, I might have assumed he was a satyr. He matched their overall look to a T.

“It’s Vic, but sure.”

“Right. Sorry.” He stuck his thumbs in his belt loops, appraising me with a keen, angular face. “Vic, how many people you think managed to get away before us? What kind of odds are stacked against us here?” He arched his eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m comin’ with you no matter what you say. I’d just like to know exactly how stupid we have to be to survive.”

“What kind of fucked-up question is that?” the guy behind him demanded. “Where are your parents, you little shit? This is hard enough without your ass getting all theoretical on us.” The second man grabbed the first by the upper arm and yanked him backward. “You open your mouth again, and I’ll whoop you, punk.”

I kept my phrasing as delicate as possible. “It’s hard to say right now. The streets are pretty empty, so I have to assume a large percentage made it out in the initial rush. If not, they’re hiding out somewhere, like us.”

“Or they’re dead,” Maya said. A bunch of heads swiveled to look at her. She bit her tongue.

“I’m not so sure,” said Deacon. “If everyone was dead, we’d be seeing bodies all over the place, which hasn’t happened. The highways are likely backed up straight to hell, but at least everyone’s out there instead of in here.” He beckoned to me. “I think it’s about time we head out. You ready?”

“Yeah. As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

Maya pushed through to get in front of us. “Guys, do we know what’s happening once we get there? Who are we going to talk to?”

“They’ve got to have some kind of intake system in operation, Maya. It might be unnecessary and tedious, but they have to be doing something already.”

“That’s not what I meant. Does anyone in the government know what’s actually going on? Let’s say this isn’t a trap. We know it could be, but no one else does, and things like this might be occurring all over the country, all over the world right now. We need to start getting the truth out.” Maya the wolf girl is wise. It will not be enough to fight battles as they happen, since you are only one person who can be in only one place at a time. The moment has come to enlighten the realm about the gods, that the ensuing resistance may bring peace back to your world.

“Easier said than done,” I answered. “Like you just told me, I’m only one person. How do we put this on a global scale?”

“Well…” Jules gestured at the television behind me, on which Steve Stephenson was in the middle of giving another bleak report. He stared stoically into his camera, a man trying his best to stay on the job. “That seems to be working for him.”

“Yes!” Maya brightened. “If we can get on TV, we might be able to reach Smitty and Amber even if calling won’t work. I’m sure they’re monitoring the news.”

Everything about it seemed to me like the longest shot I was ever going to take, but any shred of hope was better than none. “You know what? Let’s do it.” Maya erupted in a cheer, which helped my heart immensely. “Hey, Deacon, will you do me a favor and ask Trent if the hallways are clear down to the first floor? I’d do it myself, but I think he’s pissed at me.”

Deacon rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what his problem is, but he’d better get over it fast. We don’t have room for that type of pettiness.” He turned around toward the last place Trent had been standing. “Dammit, where’d that asshole run off to now? This is not cool, Trent!”

I left him to his aggravated search and used the time to begin organizing our group for departure. Spotting some wayward kids, I glanced around for Frank. At first, he too was missing. Then a thunderous roar slammed into my ears, and I caught the edge of a large, dark, Frank-shaped blur streaking toward the door.

“Traitor!” Frank screamed. “You damned dirty traitor!”

Chapter Sixteen

The refugees scattered in the wake of Frank’s furious charge, alarmed and skittish. He barreled into the wall so hard that a puff of plaster dust settled on the back and shoulders of his tattered jacket. He hunched forward over the wall, his head held threateningly low. His hat lay lopsided on the floor where it had fallen.

“Frank!” I darted forward. “What the hell are you—” A burst of anger swelled in my chest, but it froze as soon as I saw what he had in his vicelike grip: the front of Trent’s shirt. Trent was pinned high on the wall, feet dangling a few inches off the floor, shallow cracks radiating out from the point of impact. He pulled at Frank’s wrists, but the effort was useless.

“Call this damn dog off!” he croaked. One leg kicked out, aiming for the mobster’s shins. “He’s gonna kill me.” Trent’s face was slowly turning red from the strain of trying to pull air through his severely restricted windpipe.

“You’d be lucky if I did,” growled Frank. He adjusted his grip.

“Let him down,” I said. “Damn it to hell, Frank. I told you, no vamp shit.”

“This slimeball was trying to sneak out.” Frank released Trent’s shirt, and the man crumpled to the floor, clutching his throat. “Aw, don’t be such a sissy. I coulda hurt ya a lot worse, kid.” Frank turned to me. “Listen, Vic. I know a rat when I smell one. I know because I was one. I’ve lived with ‘em. And this asshole stinks to high heaven.”

“Oh, really?” I approached the spot where Trent half lay on the floor, struggling to regain his composure. He no longer looked like the confident, cocksure bastard I had grown to know and tolerate for Deacon’s sake. His expression roiled with disdain and a tinge of fear.

“You can’t prove anything,” he hissed.

“Are you saying there’s something to prove?” Deacon stepped up past me, closing the distance between himself and his ex-partner in one stride. He stood over Trent, stone-cold, impassive. “I don’t know how many times I’ve got to tell you this shit, brother. We don’t have time for this. But you’ve got a lot of explaining to do, so I suggest you start now.”

Trent blanched. He might as well have been a different person when he was cowering. His right eye developed a weird, squirrelly twitch. “Look, Deac—Deacon. I didn’t mean for things to turn out this way, all right? This isn’t what I wanted either.”

“What isn’t?” Deacon gave the other man a critical onceover, which stopped dead when a short burst of static erupted from Trent’s pocket. Lifting his foot, Deacon nudged the pocket with the toe of his boot. “You want to talk about this, Trent? I think it would be in your best interest.”

“I was going to tell you,” Trent answered quickly. “The second we got outside. They weren’t going to hurt anyone. I told them not to.”

“Wait.” My ears had perked up. “Who’s ‘they’?”

Deacon knelt and swiftly loosed a hidden two-way radio from Trent’s belt. Another burst of static issued from the speaker, followed by a voice. “What’s going on over there? We’re moving in.”

“What? Who is that?” On instinct, I reached for my sword hilt.

“Looks like someone called the cops,” Deacon said. “That’s not good.”

“They might not be human,” Frank said with a grunt. “I saw a lot of ‘em who’d turned out to be freaks, like me. We gotta be careful.”

Make ready, Victoria. It seems like we are in for an invigorating skirmish. His old familiar battle glee shone through a little bit. I tried to harness some of it for myself, just to calm the nervous adrenaline suddenly coursing through my veins. The hilt of the Gladius Solis carried a reassuring weight in my hand. I used that weight to center myself.

“Why’d you do it, man?” Deacon asked Trent as he patted down the rest of him. He removed a slick black handgun from a holster on the opposite side of the radio and deftly checked it for ammunition. “If you didn’t want to help, all you had to do was say so. How hard would that have been?” He kept his tone light, but there was an edge beneath his words.

“I told you the truth, Deacon. I didn’t plan for this.” Trent straightened his back against the wall, loosening the collar of his shirt. “When you called me, I was more than willing to come help you out. We were tight once. I haven’t forgotten.”

Deacon stood over him. “What was it that changed your mind? I can’t wait to hear this garbage.”

Trent’s mouth twisted into a grimace. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, which was still discolored from Frank’s unabashed throttling. “Are you kidding? You rolled up with America’s Most Wanted.” He glared daggers at me. “I’ll admit it took me longer than it should have to recognize you, given that your face was plastered all over the airwaves after you shanked the mayor with that thing. But then you whipped out the sword, and I knew.”

I clenched my teeth. “Why not confront me in the park? You had to wait until speaking up would ruin the maximum number of lives?” My anger at Frank had done an about-face. It was all directed at this jackass now, and it was growing. “What do you think is going to happen now that you’ve given our position away? You know law enforcement is compromised, but you threw us to the wolves.”

“It’s a dog-eat-dog world,” Trent retorted. “You should know. You’re desperate enough to be working with a monster.”

Frank bristled and bared his teeth, not exactly helping his case. “Screw off, buddy.”

“I’d love to.” Trent braced one hand against the floor and struggled to get to his feet. “Sorry, Deacon. We had some great times, and I still think you’re a solid dude, but I can’t abide by whatever you’ve gotten yourself into this time. Running around with a freakshow and a murderer? I thought you had more sense than that.”

“And I thought you’d get it, Trent.” Deacon sighed. “I’m sorry, too—that I was so wrong about you. You’re on the wrong side of history. I hope you know that.”

“I’m not on anyone’s side except my own.” On his feet at last, Trent tugged at his clothes, ran a hand through his hair, and picked up the sunglasses that had landed nearby. “It’s the only way to get by, even when the world isn’t royally fucked.”

“Tell me one thing.” Deacon looked toward the window. “How much time do we have?”

“Before the cops get here?” Trent shrugged. “Couldn’t give you an exact time. Five minutes, maybe less. They were pretty… enthusiastic about getting the call.” He went to the window and pulled the blankets away. “If you really intend to shovel kids down this fire escape, you better start soon.”

“Doesn’t sound like you plan on coming with us.” My grip tightened on my sword, though I kept it tucked away for the moment. “Where do you think you’re going instead?”

Trent laughed. “Who cares? Anywhere other than this hellhole. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be a distant memory. Don’t worry. I don’t want anything to do with this shit.” He paused, still holding a blanket in one hand. A look of genuine sincerity crossed his face, betraying the ghost of long-held concern. “I’m serious, St. Clair. What kind of hot water are you drowning in this time?”

“It’s none of your business anymore.” Deacon pocketed Trent’s gun. “By the way, I’m keeping this. Call it federal confiscation.”

“I’ll call it a gift.” Trent tossed the blanket. Some of the refugees broke out of their shock to scramble for it. “Something to remember me by.”

“Guys!” Maya cried urgently. “What the hell is going on? We have to go!”

Deacon and I both snapped instantly out of our laser focus on Trent.

“She’s right. We’re wasting time.” I turned back toward the door. “There’s no way we’re getting everyone out the fire escape on a deadline. Let’s go through the hall.”

“Is it clear?” Deacon asked.

Again, Trent shrugged. “It was when I checked, but I confess, I didn’t check that closely. Too busy doing my civic duty vis-à-vis reporting fugitives to the proper authorities.” The smarm I hated so much was back, even stronger than before.

I groaned. “You’re such a piece of shit. Come on, Deacon.” As I started to step toward the apartment door, ushering the group along with me, I noticed something strange in the newly exposed windowpane. It looked like a streak of tinted light.

The next instant seemed to pass in slow motion. Out of the corner off my eye, I saw a familiar radial pattern spider across the glass, mirroring the cracks that Trent’s body had made in the wall by the door. I knew on sight what those cracks meant, but my brain took an extra fraction of a second to process what I was seeing. By the time I understood, the pane was bulging out of the frame.

The sound of it shattering brought me back to real time. I gasped and threw myself prone. Screams pierced the air around me. Shards of glass sprayed across the floor. Little clouds of dust and debris marked the spots where the bullets continued to fall. Cautiously, I lifted my head just enough to take stock of the situation. The first thing I saw was Trent slumped over, his eyes fixed and staring. A pool of blood spread slowly but steadily around his head.

My chest tightened. We’d stayed here far too long. “Move!” I shouted. “Stay low! Don’t flip out, and don’t crowd the door!”

“Follow me!” Maya called. “Come on, people!”

A little space opened up around me and Deacon as the refugees shifted in the direction of Maya’s voice. I hazarded a glance at Deacon. He was fixated momentarily on Trent’s body, the expression on his face unreadable. “I wonder if he got played too in the end.” Then he made for the door.

There are multiple assailants outside, Victoria. Keep your guard up and your wits about you.

The line at the door was proceeding slowly at first, giving me a second to think. Obviously, things had changed on a dime yet again, and this time in a way I hadn’t quite expected. When Trent called the cops, I thought they’d be busting down the doors or maybe swinging in the windows, not sniping from afar. And with Trent gone, our party had lost a fighter.

“Deacon?”

“What’s up?” His voice was weird and flat, like someone else doing a mediocre impression of him. I didn’t allow myself to speculate on what he was feeling.

“How widespread would you guess the police are?”

He thought about that. “They got here quick. The city is probably crawling with them.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” If his assessment was correct, it meant that walking even a few blocks in the open was now a thousand times more dangerous. I imagined the refugees dropping like flies under a hail of unseen gunfire, and it made my stomach churn. “I’m about to say something you might not like,” I told Deacon. “I’m sorry in advance.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. Hit me.”

“I need you to take Jules and get these people out of the city.” I held my breath after the words were out, half listening for the sound of gunshots, half anticipating his response.

“You sure you won’t need me at Madison Square Garden?” he asked. He didn’t sound disappointed, or teasing, or much of anything. I sensed that some emotional switch had been flipped in the last few minutes. The Deacon that I knew was off for now, replaced by a safe, sturdy robot with no inconvenient vulnerabilities.

It worried me to see him like that. “Not as much as I need you to make sure Jules is safe. Besides, you’re trained in rescue, aren’t you? All I’m trained in is hitting stuff with my magic sword.”

“Right. If we see more survivors on the way out, we’ll take as many as we can.”

“Good. Thank you, Deacon. I don’t know how yet, but we’ll find you once we’ve done what we need to do. Hey, maybe you’ll see me on TV.”

“We’ll be watching.”

In the quiet that followed his terse reply, I realized there had been no more gunfire. “Hold on.”

The eyes of the serpent do not sleep. The moment they see you, they will let fly.

Heeding Marcus’s words of wisdom, I inched up out of my crouching position until I could just barely see through the blown-out window. As it turned out, the velvet black of the night provided the perfect backdrop for the streak of red light that I now understood was a laser sight. I ducked. A bullet crashed into the flooring between me and Deacon, making an oblong crater in the tile. Just ahead of me, the last refugee in the line spun around, her eyes practically popping out of her head.

“They’re shooting again!” she shrieked.

Just like that, pandemonium erupted in the room.

Chapter Seventeen

“Don’t move!” I shouted, but my words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. The panicked cacophony drowned out even the crunch of bullets biting into the floor and walls. A chunk of the wooden doorframe went sailing past my ear.

“Get down, kids! I gotcha!” Frank made himself a human shield between the window and the children still in the apartment. “Vic, you gotta do something!”

Truer words had never been spoken, at least not by him. “Get everyone into the hall!” I yelled. Then I spun to face the unidentified source of the shots, unsheathing the Gladius Solis with a flourish.

The blade surged into being. I inverted it and jammed it down into the floor, and a wave of heat exploded around me. The glowing forcefield pulsed outward. It rippled from the impact of three, four, five more gunshots. Blue sparks splashed from the surface.

Kneeling on the pockmarked tile, I closed my eyes, basking in a momentary flood of relief. The shield muted all outside noise, as if we were suddenly underwater. More blue sparks rained down onto the dome above our heads. Everything in front of me was washed in a soft golden tint.

Your talent increases, Victoria. I am most impressed.

“Thanks.” I opened my eyes and got to my feet.

“I think I’m the one who should be saying ‘thank you’.” Deacon brushed himself off and glanced at me. Some of the warmth had returned to his dark eyes. “Pretty sure I would’ve been toast without that.”

One of the refugees gazed up into my face, his expression a mixture of fear and awe. “You saved us. I can’t believe it. You saved us!” His wife and daughter huddled in each other’s arms. They were visibly trembling. Tears tracked down the daughter’s rounded cheeks. The man leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me. His voice was choked with emotion. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“My pleasure, sir. You’re not injured, are you?”

“No.” He unlatched himself from me and embraced his family. “None of us are, thanks to you.”

The little girl lifted her head, swiping long, straight locks of auburn hair out of her face. “Are you an angel?” she asked timidly. “I didn’t know angels could have swords.”

I glanced between her and the Gladius Solis. I’d never been what you might call a kid person, but I smiled at her and said, “Some of us can.”

She grinned as if I had just let her in on a cosmic secret. “Daddy! I wanna be a sword angel for Halloween!” Her parents laughed and clutched her tight.

“Everyone else is out,” Deacon said. “We’d better join them.” His words held an unspoken subtext that I heard loud and clear: The snipers were probably regrouping for their next assault.

“Excellent plan,” I told him. “You’re promoted.”

His mouth formed the smallest of wry smirks. I told myself it would have to do for now. As he led the others into the corridor to rejoin the group, I yanked the sword out of the floor and snatched an evac bag from the floor by the sofa, slinging the small duffel onto my back. On my way out, I slammed the door shut behind me, just to give those sniping pieces of shit a little extra trouble.

“Vic!” Maya called to me from the stairwell. She was pale, and her brow furrowed in consternation. It was becoming her default expression. “We might have a problem.”

“What else is new?” I asked cheerfully. A brave front was crucial to maintaining morale within our ragtag party, and I was determined to keep everyone’s spirits as high as possible. Gloom and doom wouldn’t help anyone, no matter how much the odds were stacked against us. “Whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Let’s keep moving.”

“I mean, we might have a lot of problems.” She peered over the banister. “Scratch that. We definitely have a lot of problems.”

That was when I started to hear it too: a chorus of heavy, booted footfalls tramping up the steps. “Sounds like company to me, Maya. Good thing I’m an incredible host.”

A split-second analysis of the floor layout drew me to a second exit sign, indicating an alternative route. Without wasting time on what I hoped would be an obvious explanation, I ran for it. My crew caught on fast, and they funneled our civilians straight for it. Maya led in the front, with Jules and Frank flanking on either side. Deacon brought up the rear, gun in hand. He rotated up to the lead while I kicked in the door, just in case some rogue baddies lurked behind it.

“Clear!” Deacon announced over my shoulder. “Jules, you’re with me and our friends here. Maya, you and Frank are going to Madison Square Garden with Vic.”

“Actually,” I corrected, “it’s just Maya and Frank. There’s something else I need to do.”

They all stared at me for a beat. Deacon was the first to nod. To Jules, he said, “We should move.”

“You’re not going to Madison Square?” she asked, eyeing me, doubtful and confused.

“Those were snipers back there shooting into the apartment,” I told her. “More than likely, the city’s overrun. These guys wouldn’t be safe if they stayed here, and neither is anyone in the Garden, honestly. Maya and Frank aren’t going there to hide. They’re going to try and save it.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” I said. “We can do this sort of shit, remember? We might not be the only ones who can, but we’re the only ones who are here right now, so we have to step up to the plate. And we will. This, right here, is what we’ve been called to do—not just me, but all of us. Never forget it.”

Jules opened her mouth to say something else, but then she closed it again and simply gave me a short, hard hug. “Be safe, Vic. I’ll kill you if anything horrible happens.” Her eyes were bright when she pulled away, but she offered a brave smile. “Let’s go, Deacon.”

“Right behind you.” Deacon began to wave the group through the door before him. He reached out, squeezing my shoulder gently. “I better see you on the flip side, Vic Stratton.”

I grinned at him. “Oh, you will, Deacon St. Clair. You will.”

A splintering crash rocked the opposite side of the hall. The entrance to that stairwell stood open, filled up with the hulking shoulders of a huge cop looming from behind the edge of a riot shield. His tinted visor obscured his face, but I didn’t need to see it to know he was all vamped out.

“They’re comin’ in!” Frank barked. “Let me at these sons of bitches. They’ll be dog food when I’m done.”

As if on cue, Maya turned, letting out a primal roar. Deacon hurried the last of the refugees out. The door clicked shut at his back. I gripped my sword in both hands and leveled it in front of me. “Get this party started, Frank.”

The mobster fell down into a bulky crouch and launched himself across the hall at the riot cop, who lifted his shield to deflect all three hundred pounds of rage flying at his face. Frank’s momentum knocked him aside, and his fellow vamp police brothers broke past and streamed in around him. A phalanx of riot shields sprang up in front of me, blocking Frank from my view.

I laughed. “Cute. They think those cookie sheets can stop me.”

Maya bounded clear over my head as I rushed in to meet the advancing tide of uniformed officers. She bombed into the middle of their ranks, all gnashing teeth and wild slashing claws. The shields buckled in about three seconds. One of the riot guys went careening off down the hall, his path through the air traced by an arc of blood.

There is a violent grace in her path of destruction, Marcus said somberly. I confess, it is rather hypnotizing.

“I think that’s how she gets ‘em!” I brought my sword down in a perfect straight line, right at the center point of the middle riot shield, effectively splitting the remains of the line. “It’s sorta like what people call ‘feminine wiles,’ except instead of getting laid, the guys just die. I’d say it works pretty well for her.”

A hand reached in from the side and seized a fistful of my shirt. The powerful grip lifted me off my feet, and the barrel of a gun dug into my ribs.

“Hey, that’s fucking cold!” I bent my knees and swung my feet forward in a modified kangaroo kick, sending the guy tipping backward into a dozen of his friends like dominoes. He dropped me, and I hit the ground running.

A lot of the cops in the horde stood a good six inches over me, but they weren’t ready to block a god-sword on fire. I used the Gladius Solis reach to create some space so that I could better use the fancy footwork I liked to think I had almost perfected. The burning blade became a ribbon of golden flame, carving officers into humanoid puzzle pieces.

“Stop her!” someone roared. “For shit’s sake, you damn cretins! Leave the brute. He’s worthless!” Heeding the call, they started to close in on me, pushing through the flying ash of their former comrades.

Do not let them box you in. Space is a valuable commodity.

It was nice to have Marcus in my ear again, though I was doing pretty well on my own. His pocket coaching had gotten more reassuring, validating that my independent ideas were on the right track. Maybe it was a sign that I was beginning to grow out of some insecurities and settling into my role.

I just wished these dickheads would stop getting in my way.

The sword slashed relentlessly, each strike flowing into the next. I whirled and ducked, and when one lucky bastard managed to land a handcuff on my wrist, I sliced neatly through the chain. The hot metal cuff seared my wrist a bit, but I didn’t even feel the pain. Battle focus and adrenaline eliminated everything from my awareness except my enemies, Marcus, and my allies.

You improve with every step, Victoria. It is very good. Now, march toward the stairwell. I believe we have dallied enough in here.

“Comin’ through!” The bellow was unmistakably Frank’s. I felt the energy around me swell. Batons clattered to the floor. Guns went off into the air, their spent ammunition ricocheting. The police force was thrown into bedlam as their men were violently displaced by a bull of a man charging headlong straight through them, head down, hands raised to protect his face. His signature hat was gone, lost in the melee. The veins on his face and neck stood out like purplish mountain ridges against his waxy skin. He was sweating bullets. His clothes looked shabbier than ever.

“Hey, Vic.” Frank brushed off the shoulders of his jacket. “What do you say we blow this joint?” A cop lunged at him, and without looking, he grabbed the man by the face and twisted his neck one-handed. The corpse flew backward into the roiling throng.

I grinned. “You want to go first, or should I?”

“Ladies first, always.” Frank rolled another patrolman at the same time as he executed a clumsy half bow. Then he jerked his thumb at the tornado that was Maya, who had just reached the edge of the fight about twenty feet away. “That includes her. Don’t worry about old Frank, see? I’m puttin’ myself on cleanup duty.”

“If you say so.” I waved the beacon of the sword to get Maya’s attention before dashing through the doorway into the stairwell. A second wave of policemen crested the landing below. I took a flying leap down the first flight of steps into their midst. They made the mistake of responding by moving forward instead of back, which meant that my blade caught even more of them through various parts of their anatomy. As usual, they melted away into agonized piles of dust. I tried not to breathe too much of it in, despite the way it plumed up in my face.

What foul creatures. I see much of Lorcan in them.

“That reminds me, I need to ask you something.” I took the next set of stairs two at a time, Gladius Solis at the ready. “Not right now, though. Later when I’m not defeating hordes of the undead.”

I have almost missed your curious mind. Perhaps this is how parents feel when their child finally goes off to their first battle.

“I think that’s just you, buddy.” A sea of dark uniforms flooded the area directly in my path. Yet more riot shields formed a wall. I cocked my arm back and hurled the sword with every ounce of strength in my augmented body, watching with satisfaction as it bored through undeterred. My hand stayed locked in the throw position until the weapon busted back through, hilt first, to slap into my palm. A few drops of blood on the grip vaporized into nothingness. “Yeah, this sword is pretty fucking great.”

Kronin was a god of fine tastes, Marcus agreed. He would approve.

The remainder of the riot squad righted themselves, and in the next instant, a sheet of metal came barreling toward my head. I whipped the sword up, and the shield clattered to the floor in two neat halves. “I guess they liked that move.”

My next course of action was to punish the idiot who had just thrown away his protection by reducing him to several pieces, followed by a couple of his friends. It wasn’t practical to exterminate them all. I had a feeling they were like cockroaches, their numbers uncountable. Instead, I focused on driving my way down to the first floor. Maya was somewhere not too far above me. I could hear her throwing shit around.

They are making perfectly adequate headway. Let us proceed onto the street.

After chopping through one last contingent, I finally crashed through the back door of the apartment building at street level, into a side alley lined with dumpsters and bags of trash. “Why do we always end up here?” I muttered. “If it’s some kind of sign, I don’t appreciate it.”

I was fifty feet from the exit before the door banged open once more. “Wait!” Maya dashed toward me. She was disheveled and out of breath, her cheeks flushed with exertion and adrenaline. “You never said where you’re going. Where the hell are you going, Vic? You have to tell me these things.”

“We talked about it in the safehouse. TV is the only way we could even hope to get the truth out on a large enough scale.” I motioned toward the near street with my head. “The NBC headquarters just happen to be not too far from here. I’m going to see if they’ll let me on the air.”

“Are there still people there?” The permanent worry was still etched into Maya’s face. The whole mess was really starting to take a toll on her. I hoped it wasn’t a side effect of frequent transformation. I was willing to bet she’d have to do it at least one more time in Madison Square Garden.

“If not, it will make my life a hell of a lot easier.” I smiled. “I’ll be fine, Maya. Marcus may be from a million centuries ago, but I’m not. I can figure out how to work an expensive camera.” In truth, I wasn’t so sure about that part. I hoped the newsroom was still set up, and maybe it would just be a matter of figuring out which button to press.

A million is a slight exaggeration.

“Do you really think—what’s his name—Frank? Do you really think Frank is okay to do this?” Maya lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you have to go.”

“You guys made it through that shit show just now, didn’t you?” I picked up her hand and gave it a squeeze. “Frank’s pretty rough around the edges, but you can depend on him. I promise. As soon as he gets out here, head for Madison Square Garden. And be ready for anything.”

Maya took a deep breath and set her jaw. “I will.” She returned the hand squeeze and let me go. “We’ll meet up again as soon as we can. Please be careful.”

“If I’ve succeeded, you’ll know.” I waved and turned toward the opening onto the main street, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I was alone.

Victoria, what is this NBC?

Well… almost.

Chapter Eighteen

“NBC is like… Okay, so you know about television, right?”

Ah, yes. The talking box with the man inside of it. I noticed a few of those prior to my transition out of the living realm.

“Close enough,” I answered. “It’s like this: there are a lot of different things that show up on there, and a big chunk of that is news, both local and international. NBC is one of the most widespread networks we’ve got, and that means anything that gets broadcast from their studios has the potential to reach incredibly far, as long as the network is still up and running. It’s a lot to hope for, but we have to try. Not like we have a ton of other stuff going on.”

That is true. The smallest of chances is still a chance, is it not?

“Exactly. There’s the optimistic centurion attitude I know and love.” I steered southwest on Columbus, moving parallel to Central Park West. The park itself was a block away, and I thought of the centaurs as I walked. Had they busted their way out onto the mean streets yet? What if they formed some sort of terrifying alliance with the satyrs? Visions of a gun-wielding satyr cavalry flashed through my head, and I quickly stomped them out. “Hey, about that question I had.”

Of course. I will do my best to assist you.

“Well, before I picked you up from Frank, Deacon and I cut through Central Park with that Trent guy, and we ran into a whole herd of these Marked centaurs.”

Hmm, yes. A ruthless, bloodthirsty people. I trust you made short work of them.

“You know it,” I said with a touch of pride. “But I noticed that they turned into regular people instead of ash. Kind of freaky, right?”

Did it bother you to see them return to their former selves?

I sighed as I turned that question over in my head. “Well…shouldn’t it? Don’t get me wrong; I understand that this kind of thing is inevitable, and maybe in some twisted way, it’s almost for the best. Unless we could figure out a way to restore the Forgotten without killing them, if that’s even possible.”

Such a solution would doubtlessly be ideal. I think, however, that it is only applicable to the future. The immediate crisis must be dealt with, by any means necessary.

“Yeah. And that means I’ve got to hunt all three of these stooges down.” Again, the memory of Rocca surfaced: the broad, sharp horns, the chain held up toward the widening portal in the sky. “I know you said you weren’t concerned about Rocca or Beleza, but I’m not convinced they won’t turn into trouble.”

That, I cannot say for sure. Both harbor burning ambitions for different brands of conquest, and now that they have the chance to seize control of a whole world for themselves, I believe those ambitions have been fully unleashed. Rocca is stubborn and proud in her own way, and she revels in the strength of her minions. With an army behind her, she has always been a formidable opponent, though others may be smarter or more devious.

“There’s something to be said for brute force.” I patted my biceps, mostly joking.

This is true. But do not sell yourself short, Victoria. Your mind is not nearly as dull as it was when first we met.

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway. What I’m getting at is that I don’t want to write these two off just because they aren’t Tahn. That seems like it could be a huge mistake.”

It is wise of you to wonder and to ask. The gods, and the Forgotten in general, are fickle, unpredictable things. It is true that certain gods and their Apprenti display specific characteristics that are considered defining, but because of their inherently mystical nature, it is nearly impossible to predict for sure how a member of the Forgotten might react in any case. This includes the sudden acquisition of new territory, for which they would likely fight to the death.

“Uh huh.” I stifled the urge to tell him to get to the point. The subject matter of Marcus’s mini-lecture was critically interesting, but his delivery could have used some polish. I vaguely regretted activating his “Roman oration” mode, but it was necessary. The class was worth enduring if it taught me even one important thing about what we were facing. Maybe Rocca and Beleza were just Tahn’s henchmen—or maybe they weren’t. I couldn’t afford to assume anything.

I kept in the shadows of buildings and the mouths of alleys, relying on my nectar-improved vision to guide me through the early-morning darkness. The street lights were all out, as well as most of the business lights, making stealth more of a precaution than a necessity. Still, the night had seemed to go on forever, and I didn’t want the dawn to catch me unaware. I was also on the lookout for any other survivors who might have ventured out while the sun was down to scrounge up food or other supplies.

“I know there must be people all over,” I murmured. “No way the whole damn city got out. If nothing else, tons would have been trapped inside the city limits by traffic alone.” Not to mention the vast numbers of New Yorkers who didn’t own a car at all, but I figured that point would probably be lost on Marcus. “Did they just all clear out of downtown, or what?”

I commend you for sending those captives out, said Marcus. It was, in my opinion, the wise and compassionate decision. Your assessment of their chances for survival was very astute.

“Deacon helped a lot. I’m glad he got out too. I think getting stabbed in the back by his friend and then seeing him die like that… it messed him up, but he couldn’t show it in the moment. I hope he gets some time to process all that once things are less crazy out there.”

To my surprise, Marcus said nothing. I sensed that he was holding back, exercising restraint for both our sakes. I knew what he wanted to say nonetheless.

“Listen, I know it’d be smart to hit the road. We could turn back right now, grab Maya and Frank, and meet up with Deacon and Jules outside somewhere. Honestly, I bet we’d all be better for it.” I sighed. “But I can’t.”

I know. That is why we are where we are.

“Yeah, it is. I can’t help it. I wasn’t this way when all this started, but now I can’t see any other way to be. What kind of victory is it if we don’t do everything in our power to make sure it’s not empty?”

Let me tell you a story, Victoria. It is about the old times, about a warrior who was great but brash, strong but proud. The many victories he had won on the fields of battle had perhaps gone to his head, such that he often saw fit to ignore the advice of his counsel, despite the fact that the advisers in his camp were the best in the empire. Good and true men he had by his side, but the warrior trusted nothing more than his own gut instinct. When war broke out, he leapt into battle without fear and without the odds in his favor.

“Let me guess: his counsel was right, and he got completely obliterated for being an idiot,” I said.

He was never obliterated, as you say. Whether it was skill, or luck, or some of each may never be truly known. But eventually, the tide of battle claimed a great number of sacrifices, drowning friends, compatriots, even family in its crimson waters. He led his last soldiers in a desperate charge against the mounting enemy, and that hungry tide grew redder yet. The ground of that battlefield was barren for generations, unable to grow a single shred of life where so much blood had spilled. But the battle was won in the end, and the warrior went on to claim glory for his empire.

“Who was this guy?” I asked. “Did you know him?”

A few moments of silence passed.

His name was Marcus Victorius.

I burst out laughing before I could help myself. “What! ‘Do as I say, not as I do,’ huh? You’re a real mystery sometimes, you know that?”

I crossed the street at Sixtieth, heading in the direction of Columbus Circle. We were approaching the heart of Midtown, and I was expecting an uptick in activity. Sure enough, I started to see shapes materializing in the distance—a lot of shapes. The first thing I did was shut my mouth.

I see they are not giving ground. This goes against both your nature and the methods that have served you well in the immediate past, but I would caution you to avoid needless skirmishes. Your destination is too important to risk drawing excess attention.

I nodded silently. The Gladius Solis never left my grip, but the blade was stowed away in the aether, or wherever the hell it went when it was off. I slowed my pace too, taking careful, soft steps. Every so often, I heard the noise of a scuffle not far off. Were they fighting each other, or other survivors? Something metal scraped along the pavement, piercing the blackness with a spray of orange sparks. It sounded heavy as hell.

I do not like the sound of that.

Just what I wanted to hear. Up ahead, a pair of eyes illuminated in a pool of shadow, panning their surroundings. I ducked into the recessed entryway of a bank, pressing myself up against the wall. The corner smelled like piss and stale cigarettes—a former camping spot for the homeless. I held my breath and waited.

The eyes made two circuits back and forth. Then they disappeared. I didn’t breathe again until I was at least thirty feet away.

The scraping came once more. No sparks this time, but the chain had changed positions. It was behind me and gradually approaching.

Keep moving forward. If you must, turn and face it, but do not invite a premature confrontation.

He was right, but it wasn’t easy to keep my eyes focused in front of me. I wanted to look over my shoulder real bad, just to see if I could catch a glimpse of it. If it jumped me, though, I might be screwed. Of course, if it jumped me with my back turned, I might be extra screwed.

The shapes in the street grew more distinct and louder. From this distance, I made out the silhouettes of another gang of satyrs, kicking debris and spitting at each other. Their harsh, braying laughter carried to my ears on a chill wind. No doubt they were armed to the teeth like their brethren before them.

I resolved to avoid them if I could.

That scraping sound felt like it was haunting me somehow. The fan of sparks reappeared, and much to my chagrin, it was startlingly close. “This thing’s not going away,” I told Marcus softly. “I’m turning.” I thought I could see something walking in the deepest part of the shadows, an upright, humanoid figure.

Marcus grunted with distaste in my ear.

This one.

“Which one?” I frowned, confused. Then the figure stepped into range of my vision, and all my confusion melted away. He looked a little different than when I’d last seen him in Palo Alto, but the sunglasses were still there, and the bald head. He was covered up in a long black coat, which struck me as a little odd. I would’ve thought that a demon who habitually broke out of Hell didn’t care about a little cold weather.

It seems that your hunch was correct, Marcus observed. And I, on the contrary, appear to have given Abraxzael too much credit. He has responded with the rest.

“Are you sure?” I wrapped my fingers around the Gladius Solis without drawing. My last encounter with Brax had been confrontational, but not overly hostile—and he had let me live. Maybe he was there to talk.

Brax’s advance didn’t falter or slow in the slightest. His expression, or what I could see of it around the glasses, remained unsettlingly blank. The chains still shackled to his wrists grated against the pavement, scattering sparks.

“Long time no see,” I said, holding my ground. “You picked a real weird time for a rematch, man.”

No response. Brax took a couple more steps, and then his back foot fell back. This close, it was obvious that although he looked at me, he wasn’t really seeing me. The chain brands snaked down his neck, over his arms. Their hue shifted and boiled like molten lava.

“Brax? Don’t tell me you don’t remember me.” I kept my tone light and teasing. “I thought I got a few good hits in last time.”

His face twitched. A slow smile curled its way across his lips, crossing into a sneer at the last second. His fingers tensed. That was when I drew my sword. The light from the blade cast his face in a fierce, dancing glow.

“Yeah, I remember you,” he said. “But in a second, it’s not going to matter.”

His arms surged forward, and the chains on his wrists snapped toward my face. I leaned back at the waist, and the end of a chain passed over my head, gouging into the concrete.

I straightened up and grimaced, adjusting my hold on the hilt of the sword. “This isn’t how I wanted to play this, but it’s a game I know well. Are you sure this is what you want?”

He struck out with the other chain. “Are you gonna shut up on your own, or do I have to kill you to make it happen?” Reeling his weapons back in, his smile widened. “I’m cool either way.” Gripping the heavy links against his palm, he wound up for a third attempt. He wasn’t pulling any punches.

The dude was trying to kill me.

“This is messed up,” I said. “But that’s not gonna stop me from wiping the floor with your face.”

He laughed, a real belly laugh, showing all his teeth. “You’re welcome to try, god-hunter.”

Chapter Nineteen

Arrogant as always, Marcus muttered. I suppose we will have to teach him a lesson that sticks this time. Even though he had no corporeal form, tension radiated from his voice. I stepped to the side, and Brax mirrored my motions, still building up his next attack. The end of the hammer began to helicopter in a circle behind him. Each glimpse of its gargantuan shape reminded me of how much it weighed, and how one big hit could lay me out no problem. I doubted the nectar from Carcerum would be enough to save me from a crushed skull.

“What’s this hesitation?” Brax asked, lifting an insolent eyebrow. “You were so confident a moment ago. Could it be that you were only bluffing?”

He launched the weapon in a sweeping horizontal arc, leveled perfectly with my neck. The draft created by its sheer mass blew through my hair and buffeted my face. A searing heat slammed into my cheek. For a second, I swore I was breathing lava. My whole chest seized up, and my eyes squeezed shut on their own.

Brax laughed again. “I always wondered if you could really stand the heat.”

Do not let this cretin make a mockery of Carcerum! Marcus demanded with a vigor I hadn’t heard from him in a long while. He is not worthy to gaze upon the Gladius Solis.

“But I can cut him with it, right?” My misgivings about the encounter hadn’t gone away, not by a long shot. So far, the dude wasn’t making the greatest case for himself. Killing him still didn’t seem like the proper solution in light of our history, but if he refused to stand down, I wasn’t opposed to roughing him up some.

Is that said in jest, Victoria? This Asphodelian rat stands no chance.

The hammer burned through the darkness between us like a comet, forcing me to dance backward to avoid getting caught by its sheath of fire. I parried the blow with the edge of my sword, my knuckles white on the hilt. I had hoped the Gladius Solis might simply bite his stupid hammer into pieces, but the handle didn’t give.

“Cheap,” I told him, smirking. “Where’d you get that thing?”

He bore down hard on me, his hammer locked against my sword. His shadow loomed, and when he was lit from below that way, he looked like a tried and true demon. Months ago, I would have been scared. Now, I was mostly just annoyed, except that the sword was slipping a bit, inching toward me.

“I tore it from the midst of the trials that forged me to be stronger than you can imagine.” The cockiness in Brax’s countenance had been replaced with grave determination. “Glad you like it. It’ll be the last thing you ever see.”

“Yeah, right.” I gritted my teeth and dug in at an angle, resisting his downward pressure with all my might. The warmth from Kronin’s legendary weapon spread in tendrils up my arms, into my chest, and down through my ribcage. The skin on my arms and hands glowed faintly, as though it were being illuminated from within. Flecks of fire flew off the sword’s honed edge as it slowly, slowly gained ground. “You think… I’m going to be beaten… by a guy who wears sunglasses at two in the morning?”

Brax scowled. He held his hammer even for a few more seconds, then abruptly lifted it away. I pitched forward toward the street, the sword jerking down, just barely managing to stop my fall.

Look up, Victoria!

The hammer whistled down at me, its silhouette looking like a sun in full eclipse. My split-second dodge brought with it the acrid smell of burning hair. A wisp of smoke curled up from my singed ends.

“I can’t help but feel like this is getting kind of personal.” Taking advantage of the hammer’s ponderous attack speed, I darted in under Brax’s uplifted arms and jabbed at him with the tip of my blade. His coat took the brunt of it, peeling away from his skin, smoldering at the edges. Brax jumped back. A feral hiss leapt from his throat.

“Maybe I misjudged you,” he admitted, lunging in with another huge swing. The hammer soared, its own heatwave trailing behind. The top of the striking surface grazed my clavicle, which stung and blistered immediately. “That’s fine. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You won’t get another chance.” I relegated the pain to a lockbox in the back of my mind to be dealt with later. On his next swing, I jumped up and pushed my feet off the handle of his hammer, knocking Brax off balance at the same time that I gained some air on him. The Gladius Solis came down in an overhead cleave, slicing open his coat diagonally from shoulder to side. He stumbled, trying to recover his equilibrium, as a thin seam of dark blood opened up along the line of the cut. I moved to slash a second time on the same exposed path.

Brax threw up his arm to block me. He twisted, and his other hand grabbed for my arm. Somehow, the bastard found just enough purchase to mess with my strike, which ended up biting into the outside of his forearm and shredding the sleeve of the coat. He bared his teeth. Even with the full fury of the Gladius Solis beaming straight into his face, the shades remained impenetrable.

“Say ‘uncle’ and I’ll stop,” I told him. The blade twisted, turning the edge of the sleeve into a column of black ash. Brax answered by spitting at my face.

“You roam the streets a free god-slayer, and they think I’m the one who belongs in Asphodel?” His grip tightened on my arm until I could feel his fingers pressuring the bone. “Which one of us is the infidel?”

“The one who’s a second from losing his whole fucking arm.” I bent my knee, shoved my foot into the center of his chest, and discovered that Brax was built like a shithouse made of angry bricks. He seized my ankle and tried to flip me onto the street. I took a shot at him with the sword. To protect his head, he snatched at it with his other hand.

Then he screamed. The fabric of the glove he’d been wearing disintegrated under the Gladius Solis, leaving him with a blistering mark in the shape of its cutting edge seared into his flesh. He shook off the glove’s remains. The sleeve I’d ripped open flapped backward. Brax stood hunched over on the yellow line. His good hand clutched the burnt one. The dome of his head was facing me.

I raised my sword at him. He had no idea, enthralled in the agony as he was. His broad shoulders heaved, and droplets of sweat spattered the ground in front of him. “It’s either him or me,” I whispered. “Him or me.”

Victoria, wait!

I paused, bewildered. Was I hearing things? “Seriously, Marcus? You were the one who wanted to teach him a permanent lesson ten minutes ago.”

Look at him, Marcus said. I was wrong. His brands are alight.

I stepped closer, and my eye caught a weird glow on the underside of the ruined sleeve. The edge of Brax’s chain tattoos peeked out from under the fabric. “Oh, shit.” Instead of the cindery charcoal black that they were before, the chains swirled like channels of molten lava across his body. He was the same as every other Marked in the city. “What does that mean?”

The fiend’s actions are not his own. He must be in Rocca’s thrall.

“Are you sure?” I frowned. “His manners have gotten way worse, but he’s not acting that much different from last time. Besides the fact that he wants to kill me.”

The Mark does not make him mindless, only vulnerable to internal commands. He will not become aware that he was acting outside of his individual will until after the Mark has been deactivated.

Brax’s hand tightened into a rocklike fist. His breathing was labored, almost wild. The visible brand on his arm blazed, fierce and seemingly painful.

“Man, he is going to be pissed,” I said. The thought made me back up again and bring my sword around in front, upright and steady. “What do I do, then? I can’t kill him while he’s being mind-controlled. Doesn’t seem fair.”

Marcus let out a grudging sigh. Agreed. Honor above all else, Victoria. Brax may be a plague let loose from Asphodel, but he is a warrior too, and he deserves to die as such. You must find a way to sever his link to Rocca. Only then can this fight be finished.

“Right.” I chewed my lip. “No problem.”

Brax finally released his hand, the limb falling limp at his side. He raised his head to stare at me from underneath his heavy brow. His features were still twisted in a mix of pain and anger. His teeth gleamed in the low light.

“You’ll pay for that, you hunter scum,” he growled.

I beckoned him on. “Come take your pound of flesh. If you can.”

Brax bull-rushed me, bellowing, and the hammer cut a crescent through the crisp night air. The stench of its burning struck my nostrils as I maneuvered deftly out of his way. He swept around to face me again. I hesitated as he came in to hit me. Did I want to hurt him, and if so, how badly? His intense reaction to the burn stuck in my mind, and I turned the flat of the blade toward him, angling for skin. The sword sizzled on contact, and Brax’s bellow became a howl.

Again, the tat on his arm flared brighter. But then it faded, and the constantly shifting colors became sluggish. Brax threw his arm to the side in an attempt to knock me away. I batted at him.

I think you must be on to something.

Brax lashed out with his weapon, the hammer flailing. I ducked and grabbed his arm, hauling him forward until he faltered. Cutting off another section of coat sleeve, I pressed the Gladius Solis to his skin. The hammer clattered to the ground.

“You’ll thank me later,” I told him. “Trust me.” He sagged to his knees. I threw his arm backward, opened up his chest, and sent him sprawling prone. His coat dropped open. Then I got down and held the sword to his chest.

Brax shrieked with such force that the veins in his neck and face bulged out. His glasses slipped to the side, exposing eyes screwed shut in agony. The network of chains across his body lit up once more before they faded out, dead. With that, his screaming stopped, and his rigid muscles relaxed. His head lolled back, grey skin sheened with sweat.

I stood up and looked down on him doubtfully. “He looks like shit. Did that work, or is he dead? I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

I believe it may have worked as intended. Marcus himself didn’t sound too sure. Regardless, you must exercise caution if and when he awakens. He could be… irate.

“Can’t say I’d blame him. For that, anyway. We’re going to have a talk about the whole ‘attempted murder’ business.”

For what it is worth, you have done well in proving both your honor and your sense of mercy. Were I to be truthful, I would admit that I am not sure I could have acted with the right decorum in such a heated moment.

“Yeah, you would have.” I kept one eye on Brax’s unmoving form as I examined the Gladius Solis for any signs of wear. “I was going to kill him before you stopped me.” On reflection, I added, “In self-defense, that is. I’m still not totally convinced he’s our worst enemy.”

Not our worst, to be sure. But not a friend and not deserving of trust.

I decided to reserve final judgment until Brax had regained the ability to speak for himself. He’d been an enigma from the start, and something told me his circumstances hadn’t simplified over time. “I guess we’ll see.”

On the ground at my feet, Brax’s eyelids twitched. I pointed the sword at his chin as he gradually returned to consciousness.

Not the most welcoming visual, but Marcus’s mistrust wasn’t exactly unwarranted. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Chapter Twenty

Brax made a mindless attempt to sit up and stopped halfway, dropping back to the street with a tortured groan. He seemed not to have noticed the sword at all. “What the hell,” he mumbled. The unburnt hand lurched to scrub over his face, after which he opened his eyes at last. I had seen them once, but the pure black orbs were just as unsettling the second time around.

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty,” I said. His initial response instilled confidence that he wasn’t on the verge of another homicidal rage, though the sword remained as a failsafe.

“Huh?” He picked up his head to inspect me, eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah, it’s you.” He took another stab at sitting up and managed to pull himself somewhat vertical. “Get that thing out of my face, would you?” His tone bore none of the venomous hostility from the fight, nor any real conviction. The Brax in front of me was spent and dazed, clearly still recovering.

“Depends. How murderous do you feel right now? Scale of one to ten.”

He stared blankly. “Do I look like I could murder anyone right now? Feels like I’ve been drunk for a month.” He rubbed his palm over his head. “I’m not going to hurt you. In fact, I owe you one. Thanks for whatever the hell you did to get me out.”

I pulled back the sword and held it up. “Gave you a new tat with this thing. You didn’t take it well.”

“Yeah, that would do it.” He sighed. “Sorry I tried to kill you. It wasn’t my idea.”

“And I’m glad I figured that out prior to skewering you through the head.”

He does not appear to pose a current threat. Marcus was as begrudging as I’d ever heard him. Now would be an opportune time to extract as much information as you can, while his defenses have been cut down.

“He’s not a prisoner, Marcus. Although I did kind of torture him into submission.”

Brax chuckled humorlessly. “I understand. It was the only way. There’s not much that can break that infernal bond once it’s been established, so I’m grateful you did it.” Indicating his chain brands, he added, “Pain is no stranger to me anyway.”

“Let me guess.” I let the blade go out but kept the hilt in my hand. “This is Rocca’s fault.”

An expression of frustrated defiance swept over Brax’s features like a flash storm, there and gone. “As always. If it was just her, I could take her on, no problem. She thinks she’s hot shit, but I know the score. In the grand scheme of things, she’s nothing serious.”

“What happened then?” I sat down in the street across from him, picking at crumbles of asphalt. It felt sort of weird to be acting like two kids on a playground, talking smack about the resident bully, but after our skirmish, we both needed a couple minutes of downtime. I was already resolved to recruit Brax if it was possible, and relating to him seemed like the strategy with the greatest chance of success. He was crazy strong, he had a brutal weapon, and he had beef with the gods. That was all I could’ve asked for.

Plus, he piqued my curiosity, and if anyone knew a good way to take down Rocca, it was him.

“I left Palo Alto on the run,” he began, staring up toward the star-speckled sky. “Monk was dead, and I knew someone had to be on the hook for it. Everything would’ve come crashing down if I was caught. Not because of the human police—those guys can’t do jack shit to me—but because the gods would know exactly where to find me.” His black eyes hardened. “Every time I’m out of Asphodel, I have one goal and one goal only: to stay out as long as possible.” He shook his head. “I was starting to think it might work for good. I wasn’t being tailed. No one knew where I was, or so I thought. Until Rocca showed up with that damn chain. That’s when I knew how screwed I was.”

“I saw that chain,” I said. “It looked like she was using it to call a whole freaking army.”

“She was. The chain controls all Marked, which means any being with some of these bad boys.” He held his arms out to display the largest brand cutting across his chest. “When she uses it to call us, we have no choice but to surrender to her hivemind. That way, she can make us do whatever she wants.”

“You’re her slaves.”

“No other word for it.” He noticed his glasses lying a few inches away, and he picked them up without putting them on. “Here’s the messed-up thing: for a lot of them, it’s probably better that way. The Marked aren’t pious fanatics in service to a god they revere. The majority of ‘em are assholes on their best days, killers and destroyers on their worst. If they were allowed to run rampant here with their free will intact, this place would have burned to nothing long ago. They’re masters of the worst kind of chaos, the kind that’ll chew up and spit out anything that gets in the way. The chain is the only thing that can counteract that force.”

“Where do they come from?” I tried to imagine a whole realm of beings driven by the same war-hungry instincts as the centaurs in the park. The picture he painted was hard to comprehend.

“Asphodel, usually. No one leaves that festering shithole without a written contract and strict control anyway, so it’s easy for her to get whatever she wants. Once you’re in there, you’d do just about anything if it meant you could be free. Makes unconditional servitude sound like a damn good deal, especially if there’s violence involved.”

Asphodel’s inhabitants are derelicts without ethics or morals. They live only to serve their own base desires through instant gratification. Rocca exploits these flaws to her advantage.

I was still a little unclear on the concept of Asphodel. “Is it, like, jail for gods?” If my understanding was correct, that made Rocca the worst work-release program ever.

“The gods don’t ever come to Asphodel.” A trace of bitterness colored Brax’s voice. “It’s a forsaken place and for good reason. The only way to get there is to be banished.”

“And how does one get banished?” I took care to keep all accusation out of my tone, despite the fact that I knew he had ample experience.

He snorted derisively. “It’s not hard. The gods have never truly been beholden to any set rules, and since they’re gods, no one can police them. You can get banished for killing sprees, for slander, for looking at the wrong person in the wrong way. Anyone who falls out of favor ends in Asphodel. A lot of times, they don’t ever come out again.”

“Because they kill each other? Or themselves?”

“That place is in a constant state of all-out war,” Brax told me. “Eat or be eaten, kill or die trying. No one who’s been in there ever emerges the same, myself included. It flips a switch in you. I think Rocca likes it that way. She always grabs whoever she can when she’s down on a job, but Asphodel is her stomping ground.”

“You think she’s recruiting now?” I asked. The thought of fighting other humans under a god’s control churned my stomach, but it was a reality I knew we had to face. I was far too well acquainted with humanity’s seedy underbelly to believe we as a species knew better than to join up with the wrong kinds of gods.

“Hell yeah,” said Brax. “You little jackasses love this stuff. Did you know that? I’ve never seen her have a problem scouting from this realm.”

I groaned. “That makes way too much sense. What’s she trying to do with them?”

“She’s building up an army. Rocca’s a brute. The only things she’s got in her head are the drives to kill and conquer, and even though she’s not all that smart, she makes up for it in sheer strength. I’m not sure she knows the word ‘mercy.’” His eyes had taken on a haunted look as he talked about Rocca, the look of a man whose memories weighed a ton.

“Sure. Why this place, though?”

He shrugged. “She thought it’d be easy, that humans are weak willed and easily mastered. She’s going to fashion all her recruits into a massive army of Marked that will march across the coast unchallenged after she forces them to take out her competition.” An empty smile crossed his face. “There have been plenty of warnings that the army will be no match for another, more powerful god. And it’s true. If her soldiers were that much more powerful, she wouldn’t be in the shit now, having to fight for dominance. But Rocca doesn’t think that way. She only looks at things like numbers and physical strength in order to determine power.” Brax steepled his fingers and rested his chin atop them. “Still, she’s got a fighting chance at the moment. If the army gains steam, it’ll be hard to stop that momentum.”

I sat back for a minute to absorb everything Brax had just said, trying my best to fit it into the other knowledge I had. The most important thing was that armies appeared to be a common thing, and that meant it was more crucial than ever to spread word as far as we could. The more time people had to band together against the rising threat, the better our chances stood of coming out on top of things in the end. Looking at Brax just then gave me an idea, too; or rather, the solution to a problem with which I’d been wrestling since the decision was made to go on the air.

“Can you help me with something?” I put the question as bluntly as possible, and then I made it even blunter. “By that I mean, I need your help. And after we’re finished, we’ll find Rocca and deal with her ourselves.”

“I said I owed you, and I meant it, but even if I didn’t feel a debt of gratitude, I would do anything to get a shot at that bullheaded bitch.” Brax stood up, wincing as his body crackled. “Name your price.”

“Are you good to go?” I asked, somewhat skeptical. “You look like shit.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Brax grinned. “I’ve been much, much worse.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders. “I was on my way to try and do some outreach when you showed up. We don’t know the state of the country or the world outside of New York, but it’s probably safe to say it’s not good, right?”

Brax nodded. “The gods will fight over every last shred of this realm, without exception.”

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why we need to put out a warning so that other people know what all of human kind is facing.”

“Extinction sounds about right.” Brax shouldered his hammer. “Unless you can put up a hell of a fight.”

“I know we can.” I led him toward Rockefeller Plaza, cutting on the diagonal across another street. The satyrs had long since cleared out, maybe because they’d seen us scrapping. “I was hoping that if you were there as irrefutable proof that this stuff is real as shit, the message might take hold a little deeper.”

This amused him. “Your flaming god-sword isn’t proof enough?”

“Not in the age of the Internet and photomanipulation. If I posted a picture of the Gladius Solis to anywhere on the web, I’d get a hundred trolls screaming fakery at me within the first hour.”

He conceded the point. “Fair. I’m not sure if my presence will ultimately help or hurt you, but I’ll be there.”

He is merely an accessory, an unnecessary but potentially useful enhancement, Marcus declared. It is unfortunate that I cannot be there in body to aid. I am incredibly convincing.

“Yeah, I remember how well that went last time. You were so convincing that they threw us in jail.”

Brax smirked. “Maybe you and I have more in common than I thought.”

Never.

Chapter Twenty-One

“So, don’t take this the wrong way, but are you sure you’re you right now?” I asked Brax softly as we moved cautiously down the street.

“As sure as I can be,” he said. “I can usually feel it when Rocca is about to take over. Right now, she’s either nowhere near here, or she’s forged so many connections through the chain that she hasn’t noticed one fell off. I don’t care which it is, as long as she stays out of my damn head.”

We stuck to the deepest parts of the shadows. The closer we got to Rockefeller Plaza, the clearer I could hear other things creeping around us. Occasionally, shapes moved in and out of murky the night, but in general, things were way quieter than I’d imagined. Beleza was nowhere to be seen.

I nodded. “Tell me if you start feeling weird. I’d rather not be blindsided if she somehow manages to grab you again.”

He gave me a slight nod without a verbal response. The sunglasses remained in his hand instead of on his face, but even so, it was hard to read his expression.

“Cool,” I said in a failed attempt to neutralize the awkward silence. “Thanks.”

I would criticize your social aptitude, but Abraxzael does not make easy work of such things as conversation. You are lucky that I have been blessed with the gift of charisma.

I rolled my eyes. “Call me crazy, but I’m starting to get the impression that you two don’t like each other. How about we sort that out now, before we get roped into a fight?”

Brax glanced at me curiously. “Who?” His eyes traveled to the medallion’s chain slung around my neck. “Oh, you mean him? Yeah, we’ve never been the best of friends. He’s got some kind of bullshit vendetta against me.”

Feeling far too much like an interdimensional therapist, I asked, “Is that true, Marcus?”

This Marked is a criminal, Victoria. He has shown neither aspiration nor inclination for anything nobler, and as such, he belongs in the realm from which he consistently seeks to free himself.

“He says you’re a criminal, and you refuse to stay in Asphodel.”

Brax laughed. “Why would I stay there? It’s a cesspool of violence and death. It’s nothing but an interminable black void, and I had nothing to do except kill the sorry sons of bitches who had the misfortune of being thrown in there with me. And it wasn’t like I did that for fun. They’re all trying to kill you first. Most of the time, it’s stiflingly hot, but every now and then, it’ll get so cold you can’t feel your own damn face. Don’t ask me why that happens. I think it has something to do with being in fucked-up murder-purgatory.”

Where you belong, Marcus added. I chose not to pass it on this time.

All of a sudden, Brax stopped talking. His obsidian eyes narrowed, and he put out an arm to halt my progress. “Wait.” He flattened against the wall. “Hide.”

I bit my tongue to keep myself from accidentally blowing our cover and followed suit. The wall behind me was rough, scratching at the back of my jacket. I closed my eyes to listen—I hadn’t been able to make out whatever Brax had seen with his hypersensitive demon eyes. But after a moment, I heard noise drifting in our direction. Voices soon crystalized out of the jumble.

“What’re we still doin’ here?” a whiny male voice asked. “We ain’t seen nothin’ for hours.”

“So what?” a gruff voice replied. “If something comes by and we miss it, and then it goes on to make trouble, we’ll be dead meat. Literally!”

“I been thinkin’ about that, and I got a theory. You ready for this shit?”

“Ah, cripes, here we go,” the gruff voice said.

“No, hear me out. Hear me out. Maybe she can’t kill us, now that we’re, you know…” The whiny voice paused uncertainly. “Ain’t we reanimated, or whatever you call it? I heard we can’t die now, is what I’m sayin’.”

“You’re full of piss and beans if you don’t think that dame can kill us again. Jeez, it’s like you didn’t even see her!” The guy let out a long-suffering sigh. “Still, it’s better to be on her side, no question. I don’t envy any sad sack who thinks they can stand against whatever she’s got going on.”

“True.”

At first, their voices drew alarmingly near to us, but then they hooked a sharp left and strolled down a different path. Brax waited until their voices had faded away completely before peeling himself off the wall.

“Makes me wonder if Tahn knows her henchmen are morons,” he muttered. “Those are the kinds of assholes who don’t last an hour in Asphodel. If your head’s that empty, it gets to you real quick.”

“Well, let’s hope the rest of her goons are just as useless,” I said.

Brax paused at the corner and peered down the street. The vamp patrol was long gone, and no one else came to take their place. Abandoned cars still littered the roadway, their lights dead and their doors hanging open. He kept walking and talking. “I’ve seen people go insane in a matter of hours from hunger and sensory deprivation. After that, the ones who survive become killing machines. I used to wonder if they were psychotic, or just trying to make more space.”

It matters not. Asphodel is the realm of the damned, of those destined to be forgotten. It is best not to concern yourself too much with it, Victoria. Assuming this Marked even tells the truth.

“I don’t know.” I scratched my head. “He’s got no reason to lie about it, and it sounds pretty freaking brutal.” Total condemnation seemed like an extreme response, especially since Brax had agreed to help.

“What’s he saying?” Brax asked dryly. “That I deserve the punishment I get because I dared to flout Kronin’s sacred rules? That Asphodel is the product of a just society because Carcerum was a flawless utopia? That I have only myself to blame? That’s all elitist bullshit. I don’t know how you can stand to listen to him all the time.”

A fool’s slander cannot affect me.

“Have you been there?” I asked Marcus.

Brax scoffed. “Of course he hasn’t. No one just goes to Asphodel. It’s like I said: if you’re in, you’re shit out of luck.”

“How do you keep getting out, then?”

That is a question to which I would also very much like to know the answer. Abraxzael’s recurrent freedom has been a problem since the days of my predecessor. We would do well to find a solution once and for all.

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t tell you in front of him, but suffice it to say, it’s no small feat. Takes a lot of smarts, a lot of blood, and a lot of guts.” Brax gestured at the medallion. “Look, I’m not saying he doesn’t know anything. You’re still alive and kicking, aren’t you? But he’s too much like the old man before him. And let me tell you, that guy was a royal prick.”

Take it back, demon. The words had an edge of cold steel that sent a weird shiver down the back of my neck. I got the impression that if he’d been able to, Marcus might have sprung out of the medallion right then and there just to sock Brax in the face.

I conveyed this feeling to Brax through two short words. “He’s pissed.”

“Yeah. If he really idolized the guy, I can’t blame him for being mad, but it’s true. We’re not talking about a paragon of virtue here. In a lot of ways, he wasn’t any better than Rocca.”

Though Marcus said nothing, his seething resentment was palpable. I had ample time to soak it in as we ducked behind an open gate to hide from another patrol. These guys weren’t dopily nonthreatening like the others. Their squad was much larger, and they stood ramrod straight, vampire eyes piercing the slowly waning night.

We slipped by as soon as they passed out of earshot, and we didn’t slow down until the plaza spread out in front of us, the NBC spire towering at the far end. On a normal night, it would’ve been lit up like an austere, urban Christmas tree, but as it was, only a few of the light banks still worked. The resulting effect made me think of theme park horror, all stark contrast and unnerving emptiness.

“I never thought I’d say this, but this is more eerie than 9/11. At least then, you could see the city rallying. We banded together to pick each other up. Now everyone’s just… gone.”

We went through this at the safe house, Victoria. Escape was likely difficult but not impossible. There are many places in a city this size for refugees to hide, too many for the gods to check them all. We must hold out hope that these survivors can endure until they are eventually rescued.

“What do you mean by nine-eleven?” Brax asked.

It took me a second to remember he was technically an extraterrestrial and, therefore, wouldn’t know. “There was a terrorist attack in September, years ago. The whole city was rocked.” I described that morning in the same vivid detail with which I still remembered it, and then I was struck by a sobering thought. “That was the deadliest attack in the history of the country… until now.”

Bodies still seemed few and far between, but I suspected either that was an illusion on my part, or they were being carted off for other evil purposes.

“I see.” Brax slipped his glasses back on to protect against the lights that were still shining in the plaza. A few of them flickered crazily, further unbalancing the atmosphere. “Someday, that mark will fade from the annals of your history, and generations will never know it even happened.”

“That’s a fucked-up thing to say, man.” A sour note crept into my voice. I didn’t try to hide it.

“The truth is harsh,” he said simply.

He is a foul creature to belittle the harrowing trials of humanity.

“Maybe.” I frowned. “He’s still allied with us.”

That, I must concede. For now.

At Forty-Ninth Street, half a block from where the Rockefeller Christmas tree would have stood in a couple months, I paused and tapped Brax on the shoulder. “Hey, check that out.”

He turned to see the famous golden approximation of Prometheus holding sway in its usual spot. By some miracle, it remained undefaced by Beleza and his cronies. “I don’t get it,” Brax muttered.

“It’s supposed to be Prometheus.” He stared at me blankly. “The guy who brought down fire? I thought you’d know this.”

Realization dawned across his features. He snorted. “That’s not what he looked like. Not even close.”

“Oh yeah?” I smirked, directing him farther toward the rising spires of St. Patrick’s Cathedral. “What about Atlas? There’s a statue down there of him holding up the world. We humans are pretty proud of that one, too.”

“Isn’t everyone proud of their own inventions?” Brax shook his head and resumed walking in the direction of the NBC building. “Atlas is just a mortal thing.”

“Huh.” I matched his pace. “It’s friggin’ weird to hear this stuff stated as fact.” It would be even weirder to have to face down a god I supposedly knew.

Maybe too weird. I decided not to think about it.

“Your ideas of other realms are eternally baffling,” Brax added. “I have heard some of your mythology. What the hell were you fools thinking? None of it makes any sense.”

“Sorry we’re not a race of killjoys,” I said. “What’s the worst thing you heard? I’d love to know.”

He never answered. His feet stopped entirely as we continued to approach the entrance. “Is there a plan B?” he asked, his voice deadpan.

“What?” First, I was surprised and a little offended. Then I followed his gaze, and my heart sank. The place was packed with security, and the more I looked, the more there were. They’d been hidden at a distance, tucked into the plaza’s darkest corners, stuffed into the building itself. We’d finally gotten close enough that it seemed preposterous we could’ve missed them at all. Had they been cloaked? Maybe it was one of Tahn’s tricks.

The legions of vampire cops all had their creepy, unblinking eyes trained on us, and yet, not a single one attacked. I turned in a quarter circle to see if it was possible to gauge their numbers, but no dice. I saw more than we could handle. That was all that mattered.

“What do we do?” I whispered.

To engage in a direct assault would be most unwise. Potentially a fatal mistake. There must be another way.

“I’m not tossing myself into that mess.” Brax pulled me by the arm around the corner of a building, presumably to regroup. I kept my ears open for sounds of impending doom. The plaza remained silent as the grave. A few feet ahead of us, a huge wall of TVs was still on in a storefront window. The majority of the displays were ninety percent snow, but one in the middle showed a familiar face in front of a white news van.

“Is he an agent of the gods?” Brax mused. “If so, we should find him and kill him as soon as we can. They cannot be allowed to indoctrinate the masses.”

“I agree with… some of that,” I said, pointing out the van. “Specifically, the part about finding him ASAP. He’s a news guy who’s gone rogue. The station’s not nearly as big as NBC, but we’ll have to make do.” The background of the current shot was extremely nondescript, a palette of concrete.

“This might take a while.” Brax let out his breath. “Let’s hope the gods don’t have anything imminent up their sleeves.”

I gasped as an idea struck me right between the eyes. The duffel bag I’d been carrying from the safehouse slapped onto the sidewalk. I pulled it open and rifled through the contents. “Wait a sec. I might—yes!” The sight of the satellite phone filled me with euphoria. “This is amazing. I have just the person to help, and now I can actually reach her!”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Hold on,” Namiko said. “Let me try to get this straight. You’re in New York City, there’s no one else there except a demon from California, Manhattan’s being destroyed, and all the police are vampires.” She made an overwhelmed little squeak. “What the hell, Vic?! I offered to come to New York City, but no! ‘I’ve got it covered on my own,’ you said. ‘It’ll be fine,’ you said. None of this sounds fine!”

“It all happened really freakin’ fast, okay? And I couldn’t spend my one phone call on you.”

“What?!” She was almost shouting into the phone now, the loudest I’d ever heard her talk. “You were in jail?!”

“No time to talk about it. I’ll tell you later.” Shifting the phone to my other ear, I zipped up the bag. “Can you help me track a news van? I need to broadcast a warning to anyone who can hear it, and this van is the only way.”

“This is totally insane.” Namiko took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes, I can do that. I’d even say it’s easy if the city is deserted. That van and your phone will be the only things with a tracking signal for miles.”

“You’re the best, Namiko.” I slung the bag up over my shoulder and straightened, giving Brax a thumbs-up. “Give me a second to find us some transportation in case we need it.”

“A second is all it’s going to take.” Keys tapped behind her voice, punctuated by the clicking of a mouse. “All I need to do is pull up a satellite map, and—”

“Hot damn, you are useful.” I jogged down the street, searching for a car that would suit our purposes. If the current apocalyptic scenario had an upside, it was that there was no shortage of vehicles to choose from.

“It’s pretty rad, right?” she replied. “This is the tech capital of the country, and I’ve got a rich dad. Had to find something appropriate to do with my time.”

“Thank goodness for everything you just said.” I stopped next to an old Toyota Camry and took the phone away from my mouth so I could call to Brax. “Get in, loser. We’re going to find that van.”

He took one look at my choice and laughed. “No.” He pointed at a Hummer beached on the sidewalk like a silver, gas-guzzling whale. “That one.”

For an abhorrent criminal of the lowest possible caste, his taste in steel chariots is remarkably refined.

“You’re both massive pains in my ass,” I griped as I jumped over the curb. The driver’s side door was unlocked, though it took me a minute to mountain-climb my way into the seat. I’d been crossing my fingers that this was one of the newer, keyless, push-to-start models, but no such luck—and of course, the owner was conscientious enough to take the keys with them.

“Almost got it,” Namiko announced. “Data is downloading as we speak.”

“Here. Catch.” I tossed the phone to Brax. “Do whatever she says, all right? She’s getting us directions.”

He looked at the phone, genuinely bewildered. “Yes.”

“Good.” I bent down and got to work on the wiring with a screwdriver from the duffel bag. Brax climbed in on the passenger’s side. The job was slightly more complicated than I was used to—there was a reason I’d gone for the shitty old Camry—but the basic principle was the same. After a few minutes of exasperation, I heard the supremely satisfying rumble of the engine coming to life. “There we go, finally.”

“Where’d you learn that?” Brax asked. “It looks like something you’re not supposed to do.”

“It is,” I said. “I’ve watched a lot of YouTube in my spare time. You can learn anything with a computer and an internet connection.”

I grabbed the phone back from Brax and held it to my ear.

“Got it!” Namiko declared triumphantly. “You ready? Good news: it’s close.”

I pulled the seat up a little bit, gripped the wheel in my free hand, and put the behemoth into drive. “Hit me.”

“Okay, you’re gonna want to head toward Times Square. I’m assuming you know where that is, relative to where you are.”

“That’s it?” I was kind of annoyed. I’d gone through all the hassle of starting up this Hummer, and I’d only get to drive it for half a mile. “We could have just walked.”

“It’s a little farther than that, heading to the river.” She paused. “Looks like the van must be parked at the moment. Maybe you can catch them right there if you hurry.”

I sighed and stepped on the gas, steering the truck back onto the street. We barreled toward the corner, headlights flooding the road—only to screech to a rubber-burning stop when I realized this side of the block had witnessed a nasty accident. Wrecked cars clogged the intersection, which was also littered with bits of metal and safety glass. The vehicles on the ends were shoved all the way over both curbs. There was no way this hog could fit through.

This type of occurrence is very rare with horses.

“This route’s blocked.” I swung the wheel to the right. “We’re going the long way. Yell if the van starts moving.”

“They’re still there.” Namiko clicked a few times. “I can’t get details on traffic or obstructions or anything like that. There’s probably no one feeding that information through.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The Hummer roared along. We blazed through stuck or dead traffic lights, veered around turns without pissing anyone off, and didn’t get bogged down in a sea of yellow cabs. Getting to cruise the empty streets of New York was more than once in a lifetime—it was probably once in an entire universe.

The next obstacle we encountered was a berm of debris from a crushed building that had settled across the road. I slowed long enough to observe the height and depth of the obstruction and made a snap decision. My foot switched from brake to accelerator. “Could a horse do this?”

No. Horses have too much good sense.

“What are you doing?” Brax demanded. His eyes were wide. “Slow down!”

“It’s all good,” I told him. “This is what these things were made for.” In a manner of speaking anyway. The front tires spun when they hit the edge of the berm, but the heavy duty treads found purchase soon enough, and then we were snaking our way up and over. The ride was not without turbulence. A few times, the heavy truck pitched at what felt like a dangerous angle. Debris slid audibly from under the tires with every inch. I glanced at Brax. “See? Not so bad.”

He stared forward grimly, one hand locked on the overhead grip. His head bounced close to the roof of the cab, and his other arm braced himself against the downward angle of our trajectory. I chuckled to see him looking so concerned about a little makeshift off-roading. Then the truck touched down on the other side, and he visibly relaxed.

That lasted about a millisecond. As soon as we were clear of that hedge of debris, something traveling at an incredible rate of speed zinged off the edge of the side mirror. I recognized the distinctive pockmark it left behind. “Someone’s firing on us!”

Brax spun around in an effort to pinpoint the source of the gunfire. Another round struck the rear door, and another lodged into the back windshield.

“Oh shit!” Namiko said. “I heard that!”

“Hold on tight,” I told Brax and stepped hard on the gas pedal.

He sucked in his breath, grabbing for the handle again. “I don’t care for this.” His cheeks had actually gone a little pale.

“Aw, come on. You look like the world’s biggest adrenaline junkie. This doesn’t do anything for you?”

He clenched his teeth, watching out the front. “Just because I break out of Asphodel by habit doesn’t mean I do it for fun.”

The last word of his sentence was overshadowed by the rear glass, already weakened by one bullet, blasting inward. Both of us ducked forward. My arm hit the center of the steering wheel, causing the horn to bellow. “Hard left!” I yanked the wheel like the captain on a sinking ship. We skidded around the turn, and I gunned it down a narrow passage.

“You’re out of your damn mind!” Brax hollered. Wind rushed through the hole where the rear window used to be.

“I can’t hear you!” I shouted back. The opening at the other end of the alley sprinted toward us. I bore down on the gas. The speedometer crept higher and higher. It was at fifty when we erupted into Times Square.

“Go south!” As I turned, I caught sight of my buddy Steve Stephenson up on the huge screen. Good for him—he’d finally made the big time.

“Oh, no.” Brax covered his face with his hands, squeezing tightly.

“It’s okay if you puke,” I reassured him. “This isn’t my car.”

“Rocca’s close,” he answered. “And so is her army.”

“Three blocks!”

It was too late to even think about turning back now. I eased off the gas a little, but we pressed forward until Namiko told me to hang a left, which I did. The sky was just starting to show the faintest signs of light. “How far?” I asked her.

“Okay, now—”

I slammed on the brakes, pitching myself and Brax into the dashboard. He did look a little nauseous as he pushed back off the glove compartment, but his attention was entirely focused on the massive horde filling in the street at the end of the block.

“Vic,” he said.

“Sorry about that.”

“No. Get us the fuck out of here.”

“I can do that!” Throwing the gearshift into reverse, I looked in the rearview mirror and stopped cold. “Oh, shit. We’re boxed in.”

Both armies surged forward, pouring ever closer to the Hummer in the middle of the street. Neither side seemed to notice the car or its occupants.

“I don’t think they’re here for us,” I said. “But we’re about to get caught in the crossfire! Go!” At the last instant, I grabbed my phone as I flung my door open and threw myself into the street. Brax leapt across the truck’s hood, sweeping me up on his way by. We torpedoed into a storefront amid the cacophony of more smashing glass.

My last glimpse of the Hummer was fleeting, its blocky shape awash in the collision of two mighty forces. The bright burn of the Marked clashed horribly with Beleza’s bronzed muscle men. Beleza himself loomed over his devotees, arms spread wide. He was still grinning, but the expression held little warmth. As if in answer, the deafening crack of a chain thundered over the melee.

Brax set me on my feet, shaking glass off his coat. He looked up at the panorama of war unfolding before our eyes, and for a moment, he went far away. Then he snapped back. “This is bad. We need to go.”

“Cut through the building you’re in right now,” Namiko said over the phone. “The van’s on the other side. I don’t know how much longer it’ll stay.”

Brax and I looked at each other and broke into a dead sprint.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The drab, featureless background in Steve Stephenson’s shots turned out to be the loading dock behind the bank of stores where Brax and I emerged. We charged in tandem toward the nondescript white van. My efforts doubled when I realized Steve and his tiny crew were packing up their equipment, preparing to move to another location. Around the news crew stood three mean looking dudes with assault rifles ready in their hands. They raised them at us, fingers on the triggers.

“Steve!” I shouted, hoping my voice wouldn’t be drowned out by a chorus of automatic bursts.

“What the hell?” The reporter turned toward us, and I watched as his face morphed from confusion to terror. “Holy shit! Who are you? Have you been seeing the broadcasts?”

I slid to a stop in front of him, as did Brax, who was completely unruffled by the whole ordeal. He folded his arms over his chest, apparently content to join the mean mugging contest and let me do the talking.

“My name’s Vic. I saw some of your broadcasts while we were hiding out with some other survivors, and I knew I had to find you.”

He smiled. “That’s great to hear. I’ve been really hoping to reach at least some people this way, but so far, you’re the first to come forward. Not that I think people should be coming out of hiding just yet, but—”

“Right. It’s too dangerous. That’s why we need to use your van.”

Steve held up his hands, chuckling nervously. “Whoa, whoa. Vic, was it? Listen, I appreciate you coming out to talk to me. I know it can’t have been easy. But I can’t just let anyone use my stuff. It’s at a premium right now, you understand? I can’t afford to lose it.”

“We’re not going to steal it. I need to use it to send a message. That’s all. When I’m done, we’ll leave. We have other things to do.”

“Other things?” Steve’s reporter’s instinct kicked in big time. End of the world or not, the guy could smell a scoop.

“Things where reporting isn’t gonna help so much. This, though? We need you for this.” I hesitated, searching his face. “Please. It’s not just about New York anymore. We’re saving the world.”

Steve shifted his weight and glanced back at the van. His crew watched him, silent and wary. “I’m not sure how far the signal actually reaches on our rig. Could be miles, could be… blocks.”

“Anything is better than nothing. It’s worth a shot.” I couldn’t tell how on the fence he was, and it made my stomach twist into knots. The absolute last thing I wanted to do was take the van by force.

“There’s not a lot of time,” Brax chimed in. He nodded toward the back of the store. “A war’s brewing on the other side of those buildings. It might spill over soon.”

Steve ran a hand through his mop of brown hair. He was sweating. “All right,” he said finally. “Okay. Yeah.” He turned toward his crew. “Set these guys up to go live right now.” He looked at his guards. “Point those things down before you shoot someone.”

“Thank you, Steve. You can’t know how important this is.”

“You’re right.” He gave Brax a onceover. “I hope it’s worth it.”

“We’re ready for them,” a crewman called. He beckoned me to a spot on the pavement. “Stand right there and look directly into the camera. We’ll make sure the picture and sound are balanced right, so don’t worry about that. Just say whatever you need to say.”

I nodded. My stomach did a little flip, and I swallowed hard. For some reason, the nerves I’d lost over wielding the sword came back full force at the prospect of being on camera. Brax crossed over to stand beside me again, arms still folded.

“Three! Two! One! We’re live!”

A light on the camera intensified. I somehow managed not to squint. “Whoever’s out there listening, this message is for you. I know there’s been a lot of confusion, but this is the truth. The gods are real…and they’re assholes. They’ve come here to take this world for their own. Right now, things might look pretty dire. But I’ve fought my way here to tell you that there is still hope. This isn’t the first time the gods have returned, and it won’t be the first time they are beaten. They were forgotten once. It’s time to rise up and erase them again.

“The gods look down on us. They think we’re weak, that we’re pests to be exterminated. They think they can kill us all without a second thought. But listen to me: they’re not invincible. They know nothing about the true strength of humanity. Stay strong. Be safe. Don’t let them divide us. They are gods, but they bleed, and they die, and we can be the ones to kill them if we stand and fight together.”

Having said my piece, I stepped back. The camera light dimmed. Steve and his crew gawked at me from their positions around the van. “What did I just witness?” Steve murmured. “History? Or the greatest hoax mankind has ever seen? I guess that’s still history.”

“It’s not a hoax.” I pointed at Brax. “Does that look like a costume to you? You’ve seen the carnage firsthand, man. You’ve seen gods.”

Steve studied me for a moment. Then he opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by a sudden, violent crushing sound. The roof of the van flattened downward beneath the weight of a giant figure whose skin shone a telltale bronze. Steve’s crew scattered in a panic.

I looked over at Brax. He drew his hammer, and I pulled my sword.

Beleza rose from amid the wreckage of the news van. “Well, well.” His sonorous voice boomed across the loading dock. “What is this? Some sort of festive gathering, unblessed by the radiance of Beleza? Simply unacceptable!”

“My van!” Stephenson’s jaw hit the ground. “What did you do to my van, you crazy mother—”

Beleza froze for a split second and then turned toward us with that smile fixed in place. I clapped my hand over Steve’s mouth. “Don’t,” I said quietly. “Or he’ll spray you with tanner and put you in a thong. And that’s the best-case scenario.”

“Don’t be silly.” The god stepped forward, naked as always, and beaming. He looked a little like the Atlas statue had stepped off its pedestal and followed us down the street. “I am only here to glorify my name, to bestow it upon this dark and wretched realm. You say we have been forgotten? Such foolishness astounds me!” He raised his arms. “I am impossible to forget. And soon, this world, too, shall know.”

“You just destroyed the last mobile broadcasting station in who knows how many miles,” I told him, pointing at the carcass of the dead van. “Not what I’d call the most efficient start.”

Watch your words, Victoria. Remember: there are no weak gods.

Beleza threw back his head in gleeful laughter. “This?” He hooked one hand under the front end of the van and tossed it vertical. Steve Stephenson physically recoiled as he was forced to listen to thousands of dollars of equipment shattering into pieces on the inside. “This is nothing. I am meant not only for ‘the big screen’, as you say, but for the kind of art that is hand-molded by the greatest beings ever to set foot upon the land. I, Beleza, shall be venerated.” His eyes burned like torches as he spoke, gazing up at the gradient sky. “Humankind and godhood alike will exalt in tandem before me! Can you imagine?” He chuckled, returning to us. “You cannot, of course. Your minds are too small for such grandiosity. But do not fret. I shall bring you everything you never knew you wanted.”

A shiver crawled across my skin. This guy was officially giving me the creeps. I ignited my blade just as his hand came swinging down to grab me, and instead, he had to jerk his fingers away from the searing heat of the blade. “You know what I want, jackass? I want you to put on some friggin’ pants.”

Beleza’s laughter flooded the loading dock. “You are a feisty little thing,” he commented admiringly. “It is a shame you are so fool-headed. I almost hate to stamp you out.” From the corner of my vision, I noticed a slew of scantily clad male figures pouring into the lot through the alleys on either side of the storefront. They didn’t smile as readily as Beleza, but they were bronzed and hard-bodied like him, and they arrived in multitudes.

“This is bad!” Steve shouted. “We have to get out of here!”

“Yeah, that’s not happening. Good thought, though.” Brax took the reporter by the shoulder and pulled him back. “Stay out of the way, or you’re gonna die.” He glanced at me. “Don’t worry about these kids. I got ‘em.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. Beleza swung his arm down again, fingers now curled into a heavy, bludgeoning fist. I got as much of a running start as I could eke out before having to leap upward, ripping the Gladius Solis in a vicious uppercut. The flames coating the blade licked off of Beleza’s shoulder, leaving a swipe of soot.

“Silly girl.” He wiped it off and examined his palm. “That little thing is a toothpick to me. You are only wasting the final minutes of your life.”

“You aren’t as big as you think you are, Beleza!” I yelled. It was true, but he was still big enough to be a major threat. The god threw another, harder punch, and as his knuckles crashed into the ground behind me, I felt the world tremble.

“Do not misunderstand me, human,” Beleza said conversationally. “I am thankful for your martyr’s death, for it will only bring more attention to my exceptional power. We will enter into the great records together, you and I. It is a shame you won’t be able to see it!” On the last word, he snapped around with unsettling speed. The edge of his fingers caught my leg.

I stumbled. Pain throbbed in my calf, and I had to drop to the pavement and roll out of his reach, slicing at his hand as I went. Again, he reeled his hand back but then thought better of it and shot forward, fingers extended. I managed to reposition the blade just in time to skewer the center of his palm. His flesh felt like packed wet sand around the blade, but he wasn’t immune to the sword’s effect.

The god bellowed. He tried to tear the sword away by wrenching his hand free, but I held on tightly, even after the force of his strength lifted me clear into the air. Beleza shook his hand as if to flick off drops of water. The world bucked and spun around me.

Do not neglect your connection with the sword! Marcus reminded me. It will respond to your call!

The next time I found myself reasonably low to the ground, I dropped. Immediately, the bronzed arm pinwheeled backward, far out of my reach. I looked up to see the Gladius Solis outlined in orange and yellow against the sky, still stuck firmly in the meat of Beleza’s hand. Backing up, I concentrated my thoughts and imagined the weapon flying back to my outstretched hand. Then the hand rocketed forward, relinquishing my sword in a rain of god-blood. Beleza roared once more.

“How could you mar the utter perfection of my form?” he cried. “Unforgivable!”

The sword hilt landed cleanly in my grip. I cocked my arm back and chucked that thing like a burning javelin, aiming for the center of Beleza’s chest. He had to come toward me to get back into range, and on his way, he swatted my weapon out of midair. I watched it tumble end over end. “Gladius!” My hand moved on instinct to try to snatch it up. A quick thought crossed my mind.

The sword shuddered to a stop, twitched, and then I sent it rocketing back to Beleza from a different angle. It buried itself in his shoulder, and he stopped in his tracks.

I called the Gladius Solis back again and zipped it around Beleza’s head. He made a grab for it, and I tagged his other shoulder with the blade. Then, while he was distracted, I summoned it straight back to me like a shot, seized it in both hands, and charged for his legs.

The easiest thing to do would’ve been to go for the low-hanging fruit, as it were. But in my current position, I was afraid I’d get crushed by his thighs of steel during his inevitable agonized writhing. Choosing to err on the side of caution, I dug the sword into the back of his knee instead. The leg buckled beneath his weight, kneecap slamming into the earth.

Oh man, did it feel good to finally bring him down to my level. Now I was at the perfect height to finish him.

Beleza clutched at the injured joint, fighting not to bow his head. “You know not what you do, human.”

“Yes.” I leveled the sword. “Yes, I—”

“Watch it!” Brax’s voice reached my ears at the same time that it felt like a brick wall bashed into my back, beefy arms encircling me. The air rushed out of my lungs, and stars burst in front of my eyes.

“Shit!” I croaked, lashing wildly with the blade in hopes of a blind kill. The arms around my torso loosened abruptly with a grunt. I stabbed backward, pissed about the unceremonious disruption of my killing blow, and the meaty restraints fell away limp. Cursing under my breath, I scrambled to my feet in order to finish the job.

But when I wheeled around to face Beleza for the last time, he was gone. All I saw were splashes of shimmering blood.

“Great,” I grumbled. “Even his blood is fucking shiny.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Following the general standard for mindless hordes, Beleza’s followers began to disperse as soon as their leader was gone. I jumped in to help Brax fend off a few last determined stragglers. After they had fallen, an eerie silence descended upon us.

“Sorry you couldn’t finish the job,” Brax said. He slung the hammer onto his back. “Better luck next time.”

“It’s not your fault, but I can’t believe that bastard got away again.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the pumping adrenaline fade from my veins.

Mind him not, Victoria. He may think otherwise, but Beleza is hardly the main attraction. We must move on quickly and deal with the others.

He was right, of course. But first, I headed back toward the spot where Steve Stephenson and his crew were creeping out of hiding. Steve walked out ahead of the others, and I sort of expected him to back away. He was a little shell shocked, his hair all mussed up, observing the bronze-cast bodies of Beleza’s fallen soldiers at his feet.

“Hey,” I said, drawing Steve’s attention. He snapped out of his fugue when he looked at me. “I just wanted to thank you again for what you did. I know all of this is hard to understand, but trust me, your actions have been important. For me and for the hundreds of lives you likely helped to save.”

“Hundreds? You think so?” He brightened at that. “Man, I hope.” He whistled softly, scanning the parking lot once more. “This is just nuts. I never would’ve believed it in a million years.”

“Me neither.” I cleared my throat. “Listen, the best thing for you to do now is move west. Staying here is suicide.”

“What?” Steve stared at me, aghast. “You’ve got to be kidding. I mean, I heard something about setting up secure passage through the Lincoln Tunnel, but that was before everything went to shit. And even if we could still get through, I can’t go. I’ve got a job to do.”

I believe I have heard these words somewhere before, Marcus quipped.

I rubbed my face. The irony was not lost on me. I figured we might as well bring it full circle—student becoming the teacher and all that. “Okay, I understand where you’re coming from—really, I do. Better than you think. And I know how hard it is to leave, especially when you feel like there’s work being left unfinished. But that’s exactly it, Steve: you have work to do that can’t be done if you’re dead or trapped under siege. I can’t guarantee that the gods won’t come back for New York after we drive them out, and what you’re doing is so valuable that you have to be a little selfish here. Think of all the things you can bring to a post-media world, man. Think of all the people you have yet to reach.”

“It’s not just New York, is it?” he asked in a tone that said he already knew the answer.

I shook my head. “It’s not just New York.”

Steve Stephenson closed his eyes, sighed, and then opened them and looked toward his van. His crew had the doors open and were salvaging as much as possible from the wreck. “I guess we’re walking.”

“Honestly, it’s easier that way at the moment. Traffic’s been replaced with accidents and clogged up roads. You’ll get there faster on your own two feet.”

He nodded. “The van was kind of a pain in the ass, but I needed it to carry the equipment. Which is mostly destroyed, so…”

“Hey, Steve!” A crewman held up a camera case. “Some of this is still usable. What are we doing with it?”

“Put it on your backs, men,” Steve answered. “We’re moving out.” He turned back to me and held out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you. You said your name was Vic?”

“Uh, yeah.” The sudden professional tone caught me off guard.

“Good luck, Vic. I hope we meet again. Something tells me you’d make for one hell of a story.” We shook hands. He went back to his team, and I watched him lead them toward the street. Two of his security men had been caught up in Beleza’s onslaught. Only one remained, clutching his rifle tightly to his chest. I kind of felt bad for him.

You did well with that man, Marcus said. You are advancing in proficiency.

“Thanks. I just did my best impression of you.”

He chuckled. I will consider that a compliment.

Brax had fallen to inspecting some of the dead troops. He stood over the one who’d attacked me with such gusto, examining the wound left by the Gladius Solis. “Hell of a hit,” he remarked. “Not bad. And you got this close to killing a god.”

I shrugged. “Been there, done that. Where do you think Lorcan went?”

“Ha!” Brax grinned. “That’s good. Keep that up, and I might even be glad to know you someday.” He got to his feet. “All right. What’s next? I vote we follow those chumps the hell out of here.”

“Not yet. I sent friends of mine to check things out at Madison Square Garden, and I’m not going anywhere without them.” Signifying that discussion wasn’t an option in this case, I promptly turned south.

Brax heaved an exasperated sigh. “You humans and your damned loyalty.” Even as he spoke, he jogged to catch up. “I don’t understand how you form all these attachments to other things. It just weighs you down in the end.”

“Not really,” I said. “Mine have held me up so far.”

Victoria! Marcus burst out so abruptly that I nearly faceplanted, thinking something was wrong. Speaking of attachments, the connection that Maya and I have forged through her training is activating. I can sense her movement.

“She’s moving? Please tell me she’s going in the direction of the river.”

That is west, correct? Indeed, that matches her trajectory.

A relieved smile broke over my face. “Good. I don’t know how and I don’t care, but she got the memo. Now we just have to meet her there.” I thought of Frank and hoped he’d made it through.

“You can run, can’t you?” Brax asked.

I gave him a look. “Of course, I can. Who do you think I am?”

His mouth tilted into a smirk. “Let’s go, then.”

The mile or so trek to the entrance to the Lincoln Tunnel rolled by like a continuous film roll of disaster. The freeway leading up to the tunnel was devoid of moving cars—it had obviously been shut down some time ago. Brax paused atop the side wall to assess the situation. A massive throng of people hustled toward us from the Manhattan side, and as they drew closer, I picked out the face I was searching for, right in the front.

“Maya!” I jumped down from the wall and met her on the asphalt ahead of her crowd. She gave me a fierce hug.

“Gosh, I’m so glad to see you, Vic. And I’m glad to be on the move again.” She was frazzled but smiling. Her clothes were different and hanging on her slender frame, a telltale sign that she’d gone were . “Have you been inside the tunnel yet?”

“Nope. We just got here.” Craning my neck to see past her, I looked among the first approaching faces for a certain vamp mobster. He wasn’t there. “Where’s Frank?”

Maya looked down. “I don’t know. We got separated right after arriving, and I never found him again. I’d like to assume he’s somewhere among everyone. He told me not to worry, but I bet he always says that.”

“Yeah.” I shook off the creeping, uneasy feeling in my stomach. “He’s street smart. He can take care of himself. Let’s focus on the evacuation.”

“Yes. Good idea.” She squared her shoulders and gazed into the tunnel’s black maw. “What do you think? Right down the middle?”

“Sounds good to me. But you, Brax, and I should go first by ourselves. I have no idea what’s waiting in there.”

She wrinkled her forehead. “Brax?”

“Oh, right. You don’t know him. He looks weird, but he’s on our side.”

“Fair enough,” Maya said. She turned to face the crowd that had drawn up behind us on the freeway, and she unhooked a megaphone from her belt. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please? The Lincoln Tunnel is up ahead, but it may be dangerous. Please remain where you are while we scout ahead to ensure safety. We will alert you when it is clear to proceed.”

Murmurs swept through the ranks. Maya rehooked her megaphone. I signaled for Brax to join us. As he leapt down, we stepped forward under a strip of gradually lightening sky toward the central mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The first thing I saw emerging from the depths of the tunnel was a hasty perimeter made of yellow tape. It marked the edge of a crowd larger than ours and much more organized. The moment I saw unmistakable Marked faces mixed in with humans, I knew exactly what we were dealing with. This was where Rocca had run off to after her fight with Beleza. Her army filled the tunnel passage from side to side. If we wanted to pass, we’d have to cut through all of them.

“Uh oh,” Maya whispered. It might have been the understatement of the century.

Brax appeared on my other side. “Where’s Rocca?” he demanded. “I know she’s here. I can feel it.”

I was wondering the same thing, but instead of finding Rocca amid her minions, my eye lit on someone else entirely—someone I hadn’t expected to see. “Is that Deacon?” I was so stunned that the words came out on their own. I was glad to see him, too, but also nervous because his presence probably meant Jules was here as well. Sure enough, I saw her standing uncertainly on the near side of the tape, apparently transfixed by the scope of Rocca’s army.

“Deacon!” Both his and Jules’s heads whipped around, and they immediately came toward us. I got my second power hug of the day from Jules.

“We couldn’t get out,” Deacon said. “We got here and started to secure the entrance to the tunnel so the refugees could get through. It was empty at first, but then we started hearing noise from the sides.”

“That’s when this happened.” Jules gestured toward the stone-faced army. “They came pouring in here, and we just barely managed to extricate ourselves. The refugees…” She bit her lip and glanced at Maya. “I don’t know what happened to them. We couldn’t do anything to help.”

“Rocca was here,” Deacon added. “I don’t see her now, but I’m sure she’s just biding her time.”

“She must be waiting for something,” Brax muttered. “She has instructed her army not to attack. This never happens unless she’s also received specific instructions herself.”

Before he had a chance to elaborate, Deacon cut him off, eyes wide. “Holy shit.” He was looking past us out the tunnel entrance into the freeway.

“No!” Maya cried. I glanced over my shoulder to see her second rescue group, the one from Madison Square Garden, advancing. “What are they doing?! I told them to wait!” Jules moved to comfort her. Brax, Deacon, and I exchanged a look.

Then the yellow tape snapped. Sections of Rocca’s army pushed out from their positions in the tunnel, threatening to pinch our little group. We ran for the wall. “I think it’s do or die time, you guys,” I said. “We have to do something now.”

Victoria, these circumstances are very dire. There is a high chance that fatalities will occur if you choose to engage.

“I’m gonna level with all of you,” I said. “We could all die if we do this. We probably will all die if we do this. It’s not good.”

“Shit.” Deacon shrugged. “If it means we save everyone here, I’m down with it. My life’s been all right. I can end it like this.”

“Me too,” Maya agreed immediately. She couldn’t take her eyes off what was happening in the tunnel as the Madison Square Garden group started to be corralled. “I can’t stand this. I don’t care what it takes.”

I turned to Jules. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get wrapped up in this.”

“Oh, whatever, Vic. I can’t leave you now.” Her eyes were bright, but she stood resolute as she pulled a handgun I recognized as formerly belonging to Trent out of her bag. “We’ll see this through together. No matter what that means.”

“I’m in.” Brax had a hand on his hammer. “Rocca’s going to oblivion. Who cares about what happens to me as long as she ends up there?”

“Then we’ve gotta carve a path through the tunnel,” I said. “Buy them enough time to get through. If we last long enough and they’re really lucky, they might make it somewhere safe.” It was all a terrifying grey area, but it was the best we had. “Can I borrow that megaphone? As soon as I drop it, all hell is going to break loose.”

Maya handed it over. I held it in my hand, studying the switch. Maybe these would be some of the last words I’d ever say or some of the last they’d ever hear. The army Rocca had amassed dwarfed our little fighting party to the extent that our odds were laughable at best. In my heart, I knew this was our last stand—and that it might not be enough. Still, we had to try. These people would either die or be turned.

Death was the better end.

Victoria, a moment, if you would.

I pressed my lips together. “Marcus, I know you’re going to tell me this is wrong and stupid, that it’s a meaningless sacrifice, that I should be smart and retreat. You might be right. I’m still doing it, and nothing you say will stop me.”

I know.

“Oh, you do?” I had to smile.

I should say that I have learned. More recently, I have learned also that this is why the sword chose you. The Gladius has an intuition all its own, and it does not always fall in line with the wisdom of men, for there are greater things.

“You going to tell me another inspirational anecdote about Rome?” Truth be told, in moments like this which felt like the end of a lot of things, I would’ve welcomed one last story. Something to carry me into the dark.

For this, there is nothing that compares. This is not my illustrious home; it is yours. I am not the one bearing arms against the rise of a great and terrible evil. That is you, Victoria. It has always been you. The Gladius Solis, Kronin’s torch, has been passed into your hands. And now you must take up your inheritance one more time.

A beat passed. I looked at the megaphone again. My friends gathered around me, watching for a cue. “Promise me you’ll all remember that we are the ones who will be immortalized. Us, not them. Our names will be etched as the light that guided the world out of the darkest moment in its history. Kids will tell stupid stories about us in homeroom someday, and they’ll get all the details wrong. Maybe someday we’ll make the switch from historical figure to myth, to legend. Whatever the case, we won’t be forgotten.” I smiled. “It has been a pleasure to fight with you. It will be a pleasure to die together, running toward the enemy, not away.” I lit my sword. Deacon reloaded. Jules awkwardly cocked her pistol. “Let’s fucking go.”

I brandished the megaphone in my offhand. Just as I raised it to my lips and pressed the switch, a weird noise cut through the echoing din inside the tunnel. Through the thinning masses, I caught a glimpse of a sleek black SUV gliding to a stop on the freeway. The front doors opened, ejecting a tall, stern blonde and a man with a cigarette between his fingers. He exhaled a white plume as he ambled his way toward the tunnel.

“No way.” Deacon went up to meet them, motioning for us to follow.

“Looks like you might need some help here, partner.” Steph didn’t quite smile, but a spark danced in her blue eyes. She gave me a slight nod, which I returned.

The smoking man took a long drag. Wisps of it leaked from beneath his mustache as he dropped the cigarette and ground it into the pavement with the heel of his boot. “It’s a good thing we still have a few good men.” He glanced over his shoulder at the empty road behind him.

It wasn’t empty anymore.

“No way!” Deacon repeated. It looked like the whole U.S. military was showing up to the Lincoln Tunnel on foot, in Humvees, in open-backed trucks, swallowing the asphalt in a flood of camouflage. In that moment, I felt like I could breathe again, like the clouds hovering over us had finally opened. The sky to the east bore the first faint traces of a golden-red sunrise.

“There!” Brax barked. He had his gaze fixed deep inside the tunnel on a sweeping pair of horns emerging from the heart of her army. He growled low in his throat.

The smoking man held up his hand to the assembly of troops behind him. He locked eyes with Rocca, who loosed her chain. The links sparked along the concrete.

The smoking man made a fist. He thrust it forward as Rocca raised her chain. Her roar mingled with Maya’s turning howl.

Brax pulled the hammer off his back. “Get to Rocca!” he shouted to me. “And make sure she fucking dies!”

Chapter Twenty-Six

The unbridled chaos inside the tunnel gave me flashbacks to the place where it all began, my first big fight in the pit at Lorcan’s slaughterhouse. Marcus had been with me then, in a different way than he was now. A lot of other things had changed now, too, but I was still Vic Stratton, charging headlong toward someone who wanted to kill me, with the sword of a dead god-king in my hands.

Maybe things weren’t that different after all.

The air was thick with screams and the smell of blood rising from the pavement. It was a good thing Rocca’s horns were so fucking huge. Otherwise, I might have lost sight of her with the constant rise and fall of the living horizon. Bodies buffeted me on every side, and I shoved doggedly through.

“Don’t lose her!” Brax bellowed from off to my left. He used the massive head of his hammer like a battering ram to barrel down on the god who had controlled his fate for so long. She stood in a protective circle of her strongest lackeys. The grin on her face stretched from ear to ear. The scene of utter death and destruction was what she’d been waiting for, what she lived for. The promise of it had been the thing that lured her to Earth.

Now at long last, she’d get a well-deserved piece of the action.

I cut my way through her inner circle, stepping over the fallen. She turned toward me, her horns nearly decapitating whoever had the misfortune of standing in their way.

“Ah, swordbearer,” she said. “God-slayer. The king’s heir. I’ve been anticipating this encounter for a long time now.”

“So have I. But not as much as Brax.”

Rocca laughed. “That’s too bad because I have no interest in him. Abraxzael is a fool who thinks he’s mighty, and yet I see him dragged back to Asphodel time after time. You’d think he’d have learned by now.” She snapped the heavy chain along the ground. “It doesn’t matter. You’re the one that I want.” Her hand made a dismissive gesture toward the minions around her. “I’m sure they would love to take care of him.”

“You bitch!” Brax lunged for her, bringing his hammer down in an overhead smash. Rocca deflected the blow without batting an eye. Brax was flung backward into the seething crowd.

“Enough of this.” Rocca wrapped a length of the chain around the knuckles of each hand. “We’re not here to talk.” She punctuated that sentence with a flurry of punches that cracked through the air toward me. I did my best to parry with the sword, but she was too fast and attentive to slip up and hit it. The edge of the chain grazed under my chin, clicking my jaws together.

A warm trickle of blood oozed down the outside of my throat.

“First blood already?” Rocca jeered. “I have to say, I’m disappointed. I thought the one who robbed me of my kill would have held out a little longer than that.”

Her footwork surprised me with its lightness and intricacy. Outwardly, she looked like she belonged in the same school of bulky clumsiness as Frank. Then she took a jab at me, and the illusion dissipated entirely.

I barely managed to lean to the side quickly enough to avoid taking the brunt of a strike to the temple. I moved in to counter with an underhanded slash when I thought she was vulnerable, but Rocca locked down on my arm, pulling me into a grapple up to the shoulder. She twisted, and the joint screamed under pressure.

A jarring hit threw me to the side, and my arm dropped free. Brax had circled around and pounced on her from the back, barring the long haft of his hammer across her horns. She grunted, both hands grasping for any part of him or the hammer, bucking and tossing like she’d been possessed. Brax clung on stubbornly, but he struggled to use his leverage to snap her head back like he wanted to. Rocca was too strong, too angry, too undaunted.

But she was also distracted. Her hands being busy with the pest on her shoulder, she’d left her torso and the lower half of her face unguarded. I darted in, slashing diagonally from ribs to shoulder. It was a good strike, but she had some tough, leathery hide that let only a thin spindle of blood escape the insultingly shallow wound.

It did, however, hurt, and the pain galvanized Rocca in a way I hadn’t expected. She threw herself back into the waiting, clutching hands of her army. I watched in horror as Brax was torn off her by half a dozen vamps. He managed to keep a hold on his hammer, and clouds of red erupted wherever it swung.

Then he was gone, swept off by the tide of the fight. Only Rocca stood before me. She was pure muscle topped by those mean, goring horns. The only hit I’d landed had been more or less inconsequential, except to rid me of my one ally. Now she grabbed for the hilt of the Gladius Solis. I jumped backward. The churning wall of the war going on around us felt uncomfortably close.

“Scared?” Rocca taunted. “I just want to see it.” She grabbed for it again. “Come on, swordbearer. Don’t tell me you’ve let the sword be the source of your power. It was for Kronin, and look where he is.”

I lashed out at her hand. “Strong words from someone who only fights with a whole army behind her.”

Her face darkened for a moment. I could see her push down a flare of anger. That gave me an idea. If she was prone to becoming a slave to her emotions, maybe I could use that to force vulnerability from her impenetrable façade.

“It’s working, isn’t it?” she demanded. The chain whipped at my feet. I hopped, pirouetted, and cut her in a smooth arc across the wrist. The sharpest edge of the blade carved through the corner of one of the chain links—the sound of it hitting the ground caught Rocca off guard. Something foreign flickered in her eyes when she noticed the broken link. Was it a new, deeper level of rage?

Or was it fear?

“Tell me something, Rocca.” It was my turn to jab at her, the sword leaving a whirl of singe marks. “What happens when the chain breaks?”

“Your friends are dead!” she screamed, shoving right up into my face. Spit flung from the corners of her mouth. One hand closed around my neck. “And now you die alone. After I watch you suffer for it.”

I kicked at her, holding desperately on to the Gladius Solis in my right hand. My foot struck something incredibly hard at a weird angle, sending white hot spears of pain up my leg. Her grip was iron, unyielding. My vision began to blur.

“That’s it.” Rocca leered inches from my face. “No quick death for the swordbearer. I couldn’t waste this opportunity.” She adjusted her hold on my neck.

Half a breath squeaked into my lungs, and that was all I needed. The moment of clarity gave up an idea that I hoped was just a little too clever for her. I opened my watering eyes, looked her square in the face, and then I let them roll back. The arm holding the sword went limp at my side. I uncurled my fingers from the sword.

The moment it was free of my grasp, I called it back, but instead of securing it in my palm, I willed it to jam into Rocca’s side. She gave a huge, wheezing gasp, and in the next instant, I was on the ground. She stumbled backward, clutching at the hilt. “How? How did you…”

The tunnel splayed out above me, cocked at an odd angle. Maya’s Were-form towered over the others in all its awful beauty, tearing through a constant stream of Marked. Even from my current position, I could see her cherry-picking the humans out of the onslaught and tossing them aside. Whether or not that maneuver actually saved their lives, I couldn’t say, but it was nice to see more of Maya shining through.

She snatched up two Marked and smashed them together, and as she turned, I noticed Jules doing the same thing I’d done at the pharmacy, turning the werewolf into cover. At first, I thought for sure she wasn’t really shooting, but the muzzle of the gun jumped and flashed. A swell of pride engulfed me. There was my mild-mannered, exceedingly polite best friend, pumping some vampires full of lead.

Rocca yanked me to my feet, snapping things back into focus. She still had the hilt protruding from her side. It had stuck at an angle that wouldn’t let her just pull it out. I ducked under the fist she threw at my head and grabbed at the sword, wrenching it free. Dark blood splattered onto the road.

“Turns out a quick death would’ve been the smarter choice.” My voice was low and gravelly from the throttling. I kind of liked it.

Her anger boiled over, and she threw me in rage and disgust. I angled the sword in the air, catching sight of Deacon and Steph back to back, turning smoothly like a human turret. Steph reloaded in about half a second without missing a beat.

“Damn,” I said, impressed. Then I chucked the sword. As I’d hoped, Rocca lifted her hand to either catch or block the projectile. She didn’t realize I had undershot it on purpose so that the blade would strike the chain still dangling from her hand. The last thing I saw before hitting the wall was the slow-motion separation of two links. A clean cut all the way through.

The chain was broken.

I crumpled to the ground against the wall, fully aware of how bad that was going to feel in the morning. My adrenaline mitigated the worst of it for now, but the shock of impact disoriented my senses for a few seconds. I pushed myself upright and shook my head to clear it.

“Get up, soldier.” The smoking man stood over me, hand outstretched. In the other was a cane with a blade hidden inside. The exposed edge was stained crimson. “You took a pretty big hit, but you can take more than that.”

I seized his hand and steadied myself on my feet. The Gladius Solis wavered a bit on its way back to me, but it came back. Rocca stood where I left her, staring dumbfounded at the fragment of chain she held in her fingers. All of the Marked who had been standing around her were turning to look at their former master, dark recognition blooming in their black eyes.

“No! No!” Rocca thrusted the chain out on all sides, bunched up in both her hands. The broken ends hung pathetic and loose, swinging with her frantic movements.

“Leave her!” Brax commanded the other Marked. He pushed them aside as he approached. “She’s ours. You can have the rest.”

The Marked set upon Rocca’s horde with vigor that would have been frightening if I had time to focus on it. I was too busy witnessing Rocca’s ultimate fall. Seeing her empire disintegrate before her eyes and weakened by the wounds I had inflicted, Rocca backed away from Brax. She seemed to wither without the power of the chain at her disposal. The ground around her was slick with blood soaking into the blacktop.

Brax came to a stop in front of her. “At last, Rocca. At long, long last, someone is going to give you what you deserve.” He motioned to me. “You’re the one who brought her down. We can do this together.”

I didn’t step forward. There was a brutality in execution that I didn’t like—that part of me that had sought vengeance for five years had finally melted away. “No, Brax,” I said. “This one’s all yours.” Turning my back, I kept my eyes to the ground, shutting out the resonating crush of hammer on bone.

The next time I looked, Rocca was dead. Brax gazed down at the body, then up at me. “Thank you. I won’t forget this.”

The legions fighting around us were drastically thinned now, on account of the Marked turning on their former battle brethren. A new atmosphere began to roll in, still not pleasant, but at least not drenched in bloodlust. I allowed myself to breathe the beginning of a sigh of relief, thinking the next phase was about to start. It’d be a chore to shepherd the remainder of the refugees all the way to Weehawken, but I was lucky to be able to do it. I looked down the tunnel, seeking to pinpoint any potential obstacles in our way.

What I saw was a tall, slender woman, her beautiful face dominated by golden eyes. Her pupils were diamonds instead of slits. She was staring directly at me.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Her forked tongue licked the air, lips curling into a little smile. A harsh rattle took over the air, bouncing over itself off the walls. “I never said you could leave.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Tahn’s laughter was musical and enchanting—but also deeply unsettling. Her smile widened into one of genuine delight as she stepped lightly across the bloodied tunnel. She paused in front of Rocca’s lifeless body, reached out one long hand, and touched the side of Rocca’s face. “You poor, dumb cow. Was it cruel of me to use you in such a way? Perhaps. Do I regret it? Not at all! In fact, I am so proud of you, dead Rocca, for exceeding my expectations. You are the one who has prepared the feast on which my magnificent beast will dine and grow strong. For that, I thank you. I would be in your debt if you were anything more than a rapidly cooling corpse.”

I blinked, unsure of what I was seeing. What I had learned about Tahn from Marcus wasn’t enough to prepare me for how cold and callous she really was. Watching her talk to Rocca’s body, I knew she’d have no qualms about murdering everyone in New York City and beyond. She would raze the Earth flat if she wasn’t stopped.

Tahn spun playfully to face the tunnel’s surviving inhabitants, her dress billowing around her. The forked tongue flicked in and out. She seemed to eye each and every one of us in turn. When she got to me, her gaze lingered. “I’m so glad you could be here to see this,” she told me. She raised her hands. “All your hard work, your blood, sweat, and tears, reduced to nothing.”

A great, collective thump reverberated through the tunnel as every human dropped prone, including Deacon and Jules. Were-Maya and I remained standing among the Marked, who glared daggers into Tahn with baleful eyes. Despite their evident rage, not a single one attacked her.

“Do you know what I’m doing?” Her smile widened even further. “I’m draining their life force. I confess I didn’t have high hopes for Rocca, but in the end, she brought me exactly what I needed. Copious amounts of life that I can use however I see fit. I could bring back the dead. I could heal all the ills that plague this unspeakably frail world. Or I could harvest it to feed to the Titan in the depths. An insatiable creature from the old days, devourer of worlds, and forgotten, like the rest. For so long its appetite has been blanketed by sleep, awaiting a master’s call. It hungers, you know? So terribly. And it is a hunger that drives the poor thing mad, such that it can’t even follow simple commands.”

“Fortunately, there is a way to fix this: provide the creature with a feast, and then while it is lulled into a stupor, lock down my control. Still difficult, yes. But so much easier once the Titan has been fed. It is indomitable, this great serpent of the water, and once it is mine, I shall rule all indisputably!” She dissolved into laughter. “I should thank you, too, swordbearer. Lorcan had the idea. He set everything up. It was to be his own little secret, infiltrating law enforcement to make it easier to round up the masses. But then he died, and his work was left unfinished. That’s where I came in, to finish what he started. Rocca was the one who penned the livestock. But you herded them directly to me, didn’t you?”

I gasped. “It was a trap! Madison Square Garden really was a trap!” The revelation hit me like a truck going ninety miles an hour. Tahn had taken her ambush to a level beyond any we had even considered. All this time, she was playing the long game. We walked right into it.

“What else could it have been, darling? For a swordbearer of Kronin, you’re not terribly bright. Hundreds of people—thousands—gathered all in one place for you to conveniently rescue? Who would do that for you but I?” She tapped her cheek with her index finger. “Actually, it strikes me as quite a fair trade. My starving Titan is fed and subdued, and you got to feel like a real hero for a little while. Like you were making a difference. Like there was hope. It was nice, wasn’t it? You’re welcome for that.”

My fists clenched at my sides, and the blood rushed to my face. “When I’m done with you,” I snarled through gritted teeth, “you’ll wish you were in Asphodel, you conniving, devil-tongued witch!”

Tahn arched her perfect eyebrows. “Asphodel? I see someone’s been cavorting with the Marked. That is very interesting.” She peered at me serenely. “As for those threats you’ve so cavalierly thrown my way, you may have to hold off on such bravado. I think you’re about to have your hands full.”

I blinked, and she was gone. The tunnel quaked violently around us. Maya bounded for the exit first, followed by Brax and me. We were greeted by the sight of water from the Hudson River pouring over onto the freeway and an ear-splitting, discordant shriek. Something enormous loomed up from the river, blotting out the new dawn with its shadow.

“Fuck.” Brax spit on the blacktop. “I was hoping it was all a bluff. But she actually did it, the crazy wench.”

“And now we have to undo it.” I twirled the Gladius Solis idly. “How hard do you think this is gonna be?”

Brax smirked. “Depends on how long you stand there asking questions instead of killing it.” He looked up at the indistinct silhouette. “Here it comes. Try to keep it off the bridge so the whole thing doesn’t just collapse inward. And whatever you do, don’t fight it in the water.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the tip, Captain Obvious.” To Maya, I said, “Can you run interference for us so that we can chip it down?” If she held its attention for long enough, Brax and I could do the bulk of the damage.

Were-Maya grunted impatiently. She put her nose to the breeze, sniffed, and let out a piercing howl. Another deafening screech blasted into us. It was closer now, and unlike Beleza, close range only made it seem that much bigger. A huge fringe of gleaming teeth curled over the edge of the tunnel’s roof. Cracks appeared in the stone moments before it was wrenched from its foundations, chewed up with an awful, harsh crunching. The front of Lincoln Tunnel lay exposed under the sky, its covering eaten.

“Hey!” I waved the Gladius Solis high, hoping the Titan might be attracted to it. “Over here, ugly!”

The Titan swung around to locate the source of my voice. Four red eyes, two on each side of the elongated, serpentine face, gleamed above a maw full of fangs still crusted with concrete. The eyes didn’t blink all at the same time. One always remained open. A stubby pair of vestigial wings stuck up out of its narrow back.

“Keep it away from the tunnel!” Brax yelled. “If it gets in there, everyone’s dead!”

The beast stepped down onto the freeway, pursuing me and the sword. River water fell in sheets from a sharp ridge protruding along its spine. The fin on the end of its tail lashed into the embankment of the tunnel, gouging it through sheer force. The SUV belonging to Steph and the Smoking Man rolled like a kid’s toy. One wrong move, and it could be all over for any of us, even Maya.

The Titan squatted on the freeway, its tongue darting in and out. Army vehicles disintegrated underneath it with every move it made toward us. The great, clawed feet left cracked imprints in the road. About fifty feet away, it stopped, hunkered down, reared back its head, and expelled a raging torrent of water from its mouth. I rolled away from the worst of it, and when I came up drenched and sputtering, I shouted, “Maya, go!”

Were-Maya churned up waves as she hurtled toward the Titan. It couldn’t get out of its water-breathing stance fast enough. She went directly for the eyes with her long, vicious claws. As it thrashed about in rage and pain, I cut along the left, and Brax went to the right. I jumped up, found a handhold in a ridge of scales, and pulled myself up onto its back. It felt like standing on a pitching ship. “Keep it up!” I shouted to Maya. “That’s exactly what we need!”

She didn’t hear me because she’d latched her teeth into the Titan’s face. I walked along the ridge toward its wildly flailing neck. The claws sought to catch Maya and rip her in half. As I approached, I saw it almost happen a couple times. The constant whipping back and forth of the head showed me a narrow section of soft tissue around the throat. I took my sword in both hands and jammed it down.

The resulting scream nearly made me go deaf. I twisted the blade, pulled it out, and rammed it in again, making a series of perforations. Cold, bluish blood poured from the wounds. The creature’s thrashing limbs decimated the roadway into a chain of craters filled with loose slabs of asphalt. Both embankments bore the fresh scars of multiple impacts.

Brax ran in circles around the Titan’s legs, bashing in its protective scale covering, vaulting over its swinging tail. It kicked him once, and I saw him go flying thirty feet, but he brushed off the fall like nothing happened. I had to hand it to the guy for sheer resilience.

After a few more harrowing attempts, I managed to stab a circle around the soft tissues at its neck. Blood loss was gradually robbing the river serpent of its speed and agility. Two of four eye sockets had been emptied in Maya’s frenzy—her fur had been shredded by the beast’s gnashing teeth and she was covered in its blood. She dropped down off its head. It attempted a weak snap. Then it turned around and headed back toward the water.

Climbing over the top of the tunnel proved a challenge in its weakened state. It slipped and was pummeled by Brax. This time, the gigantic tail caught him square in the side and carried him another fifty feet to the other side of the road. The Titan’s desperate, angry struggles sent Maya sprawling from a claw strike to the brow, and I narrowly avoided another flooding. After that, realizing I was the only one still in range, I ducked underneath the Titan’s belly and attacked its underside directly.

Searching claws missed me by inches as I buried the burning blade of my sword up to the hilt in the Titan’s abdomen. But I had misjudged the length and flexibility of its neck; I caught a flash of its damaged face opening impossibly wide, and the next thing I felt was a bracket of teeth enveloping my whole body Before I could do anything other than rip my sword free of the reptilian flesh, the Titan tossed its head back, pushing me toward the back of its mouth. It stank like filthy, stagnant water in there. Even by the light of the blade, I could hardly see a thing.

The act of being swallowed was more like being thrown down an elevator shaft, into a squishy pile of…something. Liquid washed over my hands, burning the skin. “Oh, fuck!” I said out loud. “This is acid!” Stomach acid, to be precise. I was about to be digested.

Pushing up off the slippery tissue of the Titan’s stomach lining, I lurched across the uneven surface in search of a wall. Acid sloshed around my feet, licking up my shins. The legs of my jeans had already started to dissolve. My only sense of time was the clock of intuition ticking down and down in my head. At the moment I finally stumbled into the slick, undulating barrier, I pulled my sword back, stabbing it in and ripping downward.

At first, the wound tried to suck itself back together, but I wouldn’t let it happen. The entire length of the Gladius Solis disappeared, glowing through the flesh. I slashed the same place three times, as hard as I could. On the fourth, a gust of fresh, cold air surged through.

“Yes!” I shouted, levering the sword against the Titan’s body, expanding the hole. The beast shrieked horribly. It was stumbling around, tearing at itself, trying to eradicate the source of its sudden suffering. Then everything trembled as its massive body hit the ground. I pushed my way out as the creature writhed, soaked in all kinds of biohazards. The erratic movements of the limbs began to slow. With the last of its strength, Tahn’s doomed Titan dragged itself back toward the river. It was too heavy to stop, even with the combination of nectar and adrenaline pumping through my veins. I watched it inch across the remains of the tunnel roof and hoped the structure wouldn’t give.

Hanging off into the river, the Titan gave one last screech and died, sending up a giant wave as it slapped against the surface in its final death throes. Within a minute, the body started to slip below.

Then the river coughed up bubbles. They were small at first, but they soon became bigger, until the whole channel looked like it was at a rolling boil. I realized the wild waters were rising.

“Shit! Oh, shit. Oh fuck!” I scrambled back down to the freeway, recovering human Maya on the way. “The river’s going to overflow. We need to get everyone through the tunnel, like, right now!” Maya dashed off toward the tunnel openings, and I went to collect Brax.

“I’m fine, so go on ahead,” he said, though he was limping and cradling his ribcage. “Might’ve busted a couple ribs, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. Give it a few minutes. It’ll heal. It’s what we do.” He paused. “And, hey. Nice job with that thing.”

“Thanks. All in a day’s work, right?” I picked up my pace, heading toward the tunnel, my stomach clenched in anticipation of what I might find.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I stepped into the tunnel with my heart in my throat, expecting to come upon Maya incapacitated by Jonestown-level horror. For once, a pleasant surprise awaited me. Those who had fallen victim to Tahn were stirring on the road, slowly regaining consciousness. The Marked, newly unbranded, seemed to have been made temporarily docile from the shock. They sort of just stood around, examining the dead brands on their bodies. I weaved through the crowd until I found Maya kneeling by Jules and Deacon. Steph was already on her feet and already taking charge of the evacuation. I heard her barking orders as I took a moment just to sit and rest.

“Why are you soaked?” Deacon asked. He removed his jacket. “Take this. What the hell happened after she knocked us out?”

I shrugged. “She summoned that mystical beast she’d been talking about. It came out of the water. That’s why I’m soaked.”

“Out of the Hudson? Is that why the river’s about to bust?”

“Something like that. There was a reaction after the Titan died and fell back in. I have no friggin’ clue what’s going to happen, but we couldn’t stay here now even if we wanted to.”

“Which you still do,” he said.

“Well, this is my city. I’d do anything for her.” I craned my neck to see past him, squinting into the distance. “Speaking of, I need to see if I can find Tahn before we evacuate. We’ve got a score to settle. And by that, I mean I want to end her, once and for all.”

“She’s still alive?” Deacon asked.

“Yeah. We were too preoccupied with the Titan to deal with her.” I touched his shoulder. “You gonna be okay? I really do need to go snake hunting.”

Deacon shook his head, smiling. “That’s incredible, Vic. You’re something else. All this shit we’ve been through in the last forty-eight hours, and you’re still determined to chase down every loose end right now.”

“It’s a pretty big loose end,” I said. I walked over to Jules and squeezed her hand. “Be right back, okay?”

She frowned. “Where are you going? Steph said we’re starting evac soon.”

“We are. I just need to see if it’s possible to take care of something first.” Without giving her a chance to ask more questions, I started my search for Tahn, keeping my ears open for that distinctive rattle.

I climbed back up to where I could see the river. The boiling had spread, and it was still racing across the water, creating alarmingly swollen tides. In some places, water already lapped at the banks. I scoured the area for signs of Tahn and found none.

Mildly irked, I returned to the tunnel, intending to check every nook and cranny. That was easier said than done as it turned out because everyone who’d been knocked unconscious was groggy and sluggish, moving at a snail’s pace. I found Steph speaking to some guys from the military. “How’s the evac going?” I asked.

“As well as it’s going to go, I think. We don’t have a lot of time, so we’ve got to get moving. Can you help?”

“Sure.” For the next half hour, I ushered lines of sleepy refugees deeper into the tunnel, tried to get kids to stop crying, and urged the slowest ones to pick up the pace. Every so often, I’d glance at the tunnel ceiling in search of a sign that the water had started to spill over and was going to start dripping down the roof. It was a small blessing that it didn’t happen.

But Tahn had disappeared, which I felt slightly cheated over. The Titan was dead, but something told me the Titan hadn’t ever been the real threat.

There was someone else missing, too. The Smoking Man was nowhere to be found. When I brought it up to Deacon, he just shrugged and said, “Yeah, he does that.”

As the last of the evacuated refugees proceeded deeper into the tunnel, I stood watch at the back for a few minutes. I was still waiting for signs of Tahn, signs of the tunnel flooding, and signs of general impending doom. None of those things happened, and I told myself to be grateful for the fact that we’d all made it, despite the odds.

You have done a fine job this night, Victoria. Truly, I could not have done better.

“You probably would have killed Tahn,” I said, only half joking.

Fret not, my dear. I am sure that you will receive another chance.

“If I do, I’m going to make it count.”

“Vic!” Maya’s voice echoed off the walls as she walked back to me. She looked so small compared to her Were-form, and boy, did she look tired. We all did.

“What’s up, Maya? You holding up okay?”

“Surprisingly well. I’m waiting for the grand inevitable crash.” She laughed a little.

“Someday, we’ll be able to sleep again.” I slung my arm over her shoulders. “Hey, I’m really glad I had you with me tonight. You kicked some serious ass. I don’t know how we would’ve done that last fight without you.”

“Thanks.” She smiled modestly. “It finally feels like I’m sort of figuring things out. But then at the end of the day, there’s always the same question.”

“Which is what?”

She stared out at the empty freeway littered with cars and glistening with water and Titan blood. “What do we do now?”

“At the end of the day, Maya, there’s always the same answer,” I replied. “We keep fighting for humanity.”

The distant voice of the rising river tide followed us down into the Lincoln Tunnel.

Epilogue

Tahn’s feet whispered through the long, cool grass somewhere north of Philadelphia. Morning was just starting to break around her, and the first birds called to each other up in the forest canopy. She kept walking, looking for the landmark—the old and gnarled tree with the pointed bough—that he had said would be there. She was a little nervous to see him. The Titan was dead, inexplicably. And he was getting stronger.

The woods stretched on for what might as well have been forever, and just as Tahn was beginning to think she might have gotten lost, she saw it: a looming, gnarled tree with one protruding bough like a witch’s finger, pointing to a subtle path stamped into the ground. She followed it, and at the end, the cabin revealed itself. It was more like a vacation home than anything. A casual resort. Everything he touched ended up like this.

The front door was unlocked. She went in.

“There you are, Tahn, my dear.” That silky voice made her blood run cold. He sounded more and more like Lorcan every day; looked like him, too. He sat in the front room on an overstuffed chair, hands folded, long legs crossed.

He watched her with those pale eyes. The eyes that could see everything—or at least, that was what it felt like.

“Sit.” Delano gestured to an identical chair positioned across from him. “Please, make yourself comfortable.” A fire roared in the rustic fireplace, its mantle tastefully decorated with little knick knacks. Fine art adorned the paneled walls. Under different circumstances, Tahn might have loved the little cabin in the Pennsylvania woods. As it was, she felt her insides knotting over. This was not going to be a pleasant meeting.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed, darling. You were so confident when we spoke before, and things were going so well for a while. What happened?”

Tahn was silent for a minute. “She is stronger than I could have believed, Delano. Things got out of control.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how.”

“You don’t?” He picked up a glass from the arm of his chair and took a sip. “Interesting. I do. Shall we talk about it?”

Tahn resisted the urge to squirm in her chair. She knew he liked that. He looked for it as a sign of weakness.

Delano continued. “You refused to heed the warning signs because you considered Rocca and Beleza to be beneath you. Perhaps it is true, but that’s not the point. You looked Rocca’s corpse in its ruined eye. You even spoke to it. And yet you did not consider that the girl had been the one to kill Rocca. Which meant that she could kill you. And if she could kill you, she could kill the Titan. That, ultimately, is what she did.”

“I thought the Titan would be stronger,” Tahn said. “Unkillable. She was not supposed to survive.”

“And yet, she endures.” Delano leaned forward a bit, resting his elbow on his knee, chin in hand. “You surprise me, Tahn. You, of all people, should know that excuses are unacceptable.” He stood up and covered the distance between their chairs in two quick strides. She wasn’t looking at him, so he forced her to, with a hand sternly guiding her face. Delano leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss turned long and deep, until she could feel her heart beating in her chest. She did not know that he always did this when it was time, that it was much easier to pull them out this way.

Tahn made almost no sound when the Apprenti’s hand plunged into her body. Her heart sat perfectly in his palm, caressed by his fingers, still beating. She looked at him with fading eyes as he let her stolen heart meld into his body.

Then he blinked, and when Delano opened his pale eyes again, the last thing Tahn saw was the faintest tinge of gold.

Author Notes

Written October 3, 2018

Well, well, well, here we are again on the author notes! What a glorious thing. Lee’s on vacation, taking in a hurricane on the coast or something, so it’s just me this time around.

Gods of New York is a book we’ve been waiting to write for a long, long time. In a lot of ways, all of Vic’s stories have been heading in this direction. Skirmishes. Outbreaks. Local fights. Major and minor deities. Apprenti. But we knew that with the heavens opening, and the gods descending, some serious shit was about to go down between them. I mean, just spend a little bit of time reading the tales of old. Those supernatural powerhouses never could get along, could they? And Vic, of course, was bound to be in the middle of the whole thing.

Since book one, we imagined a civil war between the deities over New York City was inevitable.

We also knew that Vic would be ready.

In the back alleys of the author world, there’s a little debate that wages constantly. What’s better? Overpowered main characters out of the gate or fledgling souls filled with potential that need to rise up through adversity.

Well, I’m an old D&D guy (and I’ve read LOTR more times than I know). It was never a question for me. I’ll take the fledgling soul. Every time.

I remember holding a blank D&D character sheet in my trembling hands waiting for the adventure to begin for Sturm the Brave, my 1st level Paladin. (Sturm. I know. I was a huge Dragonlance fan, and I didn’t think anyone would notice my plagiarism.) It was pure joy imaging how young Sturm would develop into some holy badass with high proficiency in strength, wisdom, and charisma--not to mention enough hit points to take on a red-scaled dragon.

Vic’s not so different than ol’ Sturm the Brave.

And she’s come a long way baby!

But the gods are still real. And Delano is sucking up more power than the Las Vegas strip at 3 AM.

What’s going to happen? How will it all end?

You’re just going to have to read on to find out!

Cheers,

Chris (Lee and ST)

PS: Looking for a fast, free read? We have a free novella for folks.

Sign up and get The Devil’s Due, our fast, fun thriller with a sci-fi twist:

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PPS: Also, you know, reviews are nice. Really, REALLY nice.

God Country

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 6

Prologue

A shadow stalked through the trees at the close of twilight, peering through the trunks in search of unsuspecting prey. Despite the autumn leaves that drifted along the Delaware Water Gap, its careful steps were almost silent in the encroaching darkness. The gurgling voice of the river filtered through the chill breeze, masking the sounds of its passage.

The last three nights had been noticeably colder. The creature had spent them like this, biding its time as the sun moved down below the western horizon and waiting for the perfect moment. Previously, it had been content to wait, but now, its patience gave way to the raw throb of hunger. The time between kills grew ever shorter. Someday soon, it would be impossible to hide.

For now, the hunter stayed well back from the edge of the tree line, cloaked in deepening shadows. A hundred yards off, the sprawling settlement shifted into low gear for the night. The circles of firelight shrank and dimmed as embers retreated beneath blankets of ash. The creature’s eyes panned over tents, makeshift lean-tos, and clusters of bedrolls under the open sky. The latter were always tempting, but the risk was too great. If the entire camp were alerted, defenders would be roused and the easy pickings would cease. Better to play it safe—for now.

Barely a few hundred feet onward, the hunter’s eye paused on an open tent flap facing the trees. The bright, artificial light of a battery-powered lantern spilled out over the leaf-strewn ground. The cheap nylon fabric rattled in the wind and made the lantern beam flicker unevenly.

The shadow hunkered down to wait, a slow smile curling its lips. This was what it had sought.

“Aw, man.” The vague shape of someone half reclining shadowed the wall of the tent. “I knew it.”

“What?” asked a second voice. “Don’t tell me you’re complaining, Everett. You know how lucky we are to have a whole damn tent?”

“Nah, it’s not that.” Everett pushed himself upright and reached across the tent for his shoes, pausing to peer out into the dark blue night. “I was gettin’ all comfy, but now, I gotta take a piss.”

“Ha!” The second voice barked laughter that pierced the quiet campground. “You know what they say about dudes with tiny bladders. Better make it quick, or else the devil’s gonna get ya.”

Everett tightened up his laces. “Aw, stuff it. What the hell are you talking about?”

“We’re in Jersey now, right? The Jersey Devil. It’ll hang ya from the shower, remember?”

“We’re in Pennsylvania, you dumbass. Be right back.” Taking one last glance out of the tent, he ducked out and straightened in the crisp air. He rubbed his hands together as he made his way into the woods, unaware that an invisible stalker monitored his every move. The creature waited until the young man had left the tent’s line of sight before stealing after him.

The smile on its thin lips pulled back to reveal a set of glistening fangs. It could smell the essence of this boy’s life, soon to be snuffed out. A necessary sacrifice.

Everett pissed on a tree trunk and wished he could teleport back to the relative comfort of his sleeping bag. In a lot of ways, he thought he was unbelievably blessed under the circumstances. Most of their traveling party had to bunk down under whatever they could find at sundown, and the nights would only get longer.

He was really very fortunate.

As the thought entered his brain, he was distracted when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. His fingers paused in the middle of zipping his fly. He opened his ears, but all he heard was the oppressive silence of the forest.

Everett never saw what killed him and his friend in the tent never heard him die.

But the whole camp heard the whispers that made the rounds the next morning. Everett wandered off last night and never came back.

By afternoon, they’d found what was left of the body.

Chapter One

I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, doing my best to clear the sleep-fog from my mind. In the east, the sun began to creep into the sky. Our camp, a hundred strong, slept peacefully behind us, unaware of the approaching mob. I shook my head and stifled a yawn. It was damn early, but the duty of defense waited for no one.

Fortunately, I had found over the past few days that in terms of energizers, a good ass-kicking ranked even higher than coffee.

“Here they come,” Deacon announced. The FBI agent stood to my left, his pistol raised and ready. Were-Maya and Brax were on my right. The demon’s hammer blazed in the grayish dawn, and he drummed his fingers impatiently on the handle.

“I wish they’d hurry it up,” he muttered.

We could see the Forgotten now, tracking toward us in a small horde—one of many since we’d left New York. They’d followed us the whole time, maybe hoping to overrun our group or to pick off stragglers. As the de facto security team, Deacon, Maya, Brax, and I were essentially on constant call, which meant that on most nights, we managed a minimum of sleep. A week or so into the journey, we were all paranoid and irritable, but we were exceptionally good at beating these waves of scumbags down.

I shook out the Gladius Solis blade. The enemy drew closer, and I picked out a whole variety pack in the front: half a gang of tattered satyrs, some Marked, a brigade of vampire cops, and even a centaur or two. Like us, they all looked worse for wear but ready to scrap. We were on one big collision course.

“Let’s do this quick, all right?” Brax grunted tersely. “I don’t like being out in the open for too long.”

“I bet you say that to all your partners.” I led the charge with my sword out and rammed the first of the satyrs. Everything about him reeked of cheap alcohol, and I kicked him away from me as he slid off the blade.

Staccato bursts of gunfire triggered around me. The bullets sent storms of leaves billowing up all over.

“Heads up!” I yelled at my team. “These guys are wasted.” I grabbed the nearest attacker by the front of his shirt and swung him into his staggering friends. Their hooves splayed awkwardly as they tumbled backward onto the dewy grass.

“At least somebody’s been having fun,” Deacon remarked. “No wonder they’re dropping like flies.”

It felt a little cheap to take the creatures out while they rolled in an alcohol-induced stupor at my feet, but all my misgivings crumbled away when I remembered the crew Maya and I had found looting the pharmacy. If there was any evidence that the foul-mouthed goat men were little more than flea-bitten sacks of garbage, I had yet to see it.

I knew a satyr once who was as sober as a councilman, Marcus claimed.

I dispatched the last one with mechanical precision. He didn’t even bleed from the instantly cauterized wound. “Why do I find that impossible to believe? These guys would bleed five-dollar whiskey if they could. Are you sure he wasn’t merely a goat?

You know, Marcus said, smiling, I do often find it difficult to tell the difference.

I snorted and slashed my way through another cloven-hoofed drunkard. “Either your jokes are improving, or my sense of humor’s been worn down by constant exposure.”

I will accept either circumstance.

The furious drumming of hooves intruded on Marcus’s voice. I looked up to see one of the centaurs bear down on me, brandishing his spear. The chain brand wrapped around his powerful torso remained a deactivated, dull gray. Apparently, freedom from Rocca had done little to improve the searing hatred he felt for my face.

“Oh, shit.” The spear point arced downward, and I dropped almost prone in the wet groundcover, throwing out my sword. The centaur had leaned in to stab me when his pumping legs collided with the blade. The next thing I knew, he had flown fifty feet beyond me, carried by wild momentum and permanently separated from three of his horsey legs. Off to the glue factory with him.

Your reaction time is improving.

“Think so? You should see me when I’m awake.”

“Damn, girl!” Deacon called. “Simmer down. It’s too early to look that cool.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know, sometimes, you really nail that ‘lame dad’ vibe. You’re like the only person under fifty who’s ever told me to simmer down.” I turned toward the pack of cops. “Cover me while I handle this, would you?”

“You’re gonna ask me for cover after getting up on my steez like that?” The agent dropped his empty clip and replaced it in one smooth motion. He handled his weapon with the easy deftness born of years of practice.

I shook my head. “See, there you go again. I haven’t heard the word ‘steez’ in at least twenty years.”

He opened fire, and I sent the Gladius Solis among the hail of bullets before running to catch up with it as it zoomed back to me. The burning blade cut a wide semicircle through yielding vamp flesh. Soon, I waded through a persistent haze of dead bloodsucker dust.

My eyes narrowed to slits, and I covered my nose and mouth with my free arm. “Why can’t they turn into something that’s not airborne?”

“We need to get you a respirator,” Deacon said. He popped a few more in the head, one after the other. “That shit can’t be good for your lungs.”

I shrugged. “Probably no worse than city air.” But it did mess with my range of visibility and stung my eyes a little. “Brax? How you doing?” I turned to see him standing calmly atop a small mountain of Forgotten, his hammer propped head-down on the summit.

“Me?” The demon smirked. “I can do this all day.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to see a doctor after four hours,” I shot back.

Brax laughed. “Not until it starts to hurt. And I feel brand fucking new.” He jerked his thumb in the direction of Were-Maya’s trademark battle chaos. I followed it in time to see her rip a cop in half like he was made of paper. “If you wanna talk about doctors, I think you oughta start with her.

“She is the doctor,” I said. We both smirked. “I—"

The rest of my response was cut off by a heavy choking, gurgling sound at my back. Something humanoid flashed by at an incredible rate of speed, trailing flecks of viscous liquid and an overpowering stench. It missed me by inches and slammed into the Deacon. The breath rushed from his lungs as he fell, pinned beneath the writhing creature.

“Deacon!” I launched into a running leap, but a sharp crack left the monster limp before I could even get close. All three of us, Brax included, wheeled around to see Steph, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed even at this ungodly hour, lower her gun.

The agent shoved the corpse away and brushed himself off. “Thanks, Steph. That was one hell of a save. Though I have to say, it was a little close.”

She dismissed him breezily. “Oh, please, Deacon. No need to pretend you forgot I’m a better shot than you. Besides, I wouldn’t miss this for the end of the world.” She glanced at the group, counting in her head, then seemed to notice Maya for the first time. “Wow. She really is something else.”

We all turned and observed as the werewolf finished cleaning house and dropped the last of the mob into the dirt. She rejoined our group, transforming on her approach. Brax and Deacon looked away. Steph did too, though reluctantly. I took my coat off and tossed it to Maya.

“What?” She grinned broadly, caught the garment, and wrapped it around her naked body. Not the fullest coverage, but better than nothing.

I gave her shoulder a gentle punch. “Merely watching the doctor work. You get better every day.”

“Remind me to bring some extra clothes next time. I keep forgetting that part.”

“You ought to be proud,” Steph interjected. “It’s a very impressive skill.”

Maya glanced at her, still smiling. “Nudity isn’t a skill, but thank you. That’s the thing about doctors. We practice.”

“Come on.” I slung my arm across her shoulders. “We’d better get back to camp. If the last few days are any indication, these fights aren’t even close to being over.”

Chapter Two

We reached the clearing beside the river where the bulk of the camp was located, a sprawling shantytown spread out under the open sky. Somewhere around a hundred people, most of them families, lived in this mess of shitty tents, makeshift shelters, and hand-dug firepits. We’d camped in the Delaware Water Gap for half a week. Everything was dirty, muddy, and cold. Everyone was hungry. The supplies we could scrounge weren’t always enough, and we would need to make another run soon.

“Hey, guys!” Jules’ voice pulled me from my thoughts. She hurried out of the middle of the clearing, waving. “How’d it go?”

I looked to either side. “The fight was a piece of cake. But we need to figure out what the hell we’re doing from here on out.”

Jules nodded. “I’ve been talking with the others, and I think they feel the same way. Why don’t we all try to hammer out a strategy right now while we’ve got a moment?”

“It’s the best chance we’ve got,” Deacon agreed. He glanced at me as Jules turned toward the camp. “Right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.” The encampment centered around a sheet of canvas strung up like a teepee between a little copse of trees in the center. Two figures—a man and a woman—stood in front of the impromptu command center, talking quietly. There was something about her wild fall of deep red hair that I recognized. When she turned toward me, I realized that the last time I’d seen her, she’d been climbing out a window of Lorcan’s vamp factory slaughterhouse. Our eyes met, and a wide smile bloomed across her features.

“I wondered if I’d ever see you again,” she said. “I never got a chance to thank you properly for saving us from that hellhole.” She extended her hand. “My name is Veronica.”

“Right.” I shook her hand. The woman had an astoundingly firm grip. “Big Red.” These last two words stumbled from my mouth before I had a chance to realize how idiotic they made me sound. But Veronica laughed, which made the crushing embarrassment somewhat bearable.

“That’ll do,” she said, tossing her mane.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“Hey, I’ve been called worse. Besides, you saved my bacon back in that place—me and a bunch of others. You can call me whatever the hell you want.”

We formed a tight semicircle outside the teepee, blocking prying eyes or would-be eavesdroppers. It was probably an unnecessary precaution anyway. Most people were probably too preoccupied with simply getting by to pay much attention to us. Still, an undertone of quiet desperation pushed closer to the surface with each passing day. It was impossible to predict what could happen when things finally boiled over.

Like always, we needed a plan and fast.

“Okay, guys.” I scanned the circle of faces. Sandwiched between Veronica and Jules was another relative newcomer, a soldier from the reinforcements who had joined us at Lincoln Tunnel. He and a small group of elite infantrymen had fought their way out of New York alongside us, earning him a place on our team. I looked at him first. “Reports, please. How are we doing?”

Dan spoke with the easy confidence of a natural leader. Before it all went to hell, he’d been nowhere near top brass but now was the best they had. He had risen to the occasion with commendable dignity. “My men are in pretty fine spirits, all things considered,” he said. “That’s not to say it isn’t all absolute shit—it is. We’re up to our eyes in it, but no one’s complaining. This is what we’ve trained for.”

“Ha,” Brax scoffed. “Humans of this age know nothing of war.”

The soldier scratched the stubble on his jaw and said, “I think you guys know a little too much about it.” Without missing a beat, he continued. “I’ve taken the liberty of sending them out to patrol the perimeter, though I don’t recommend staying here for too much longer. I think one more night, max.”

The demon scowled. He brushed off the slight but one hand tightened briefly into a fist.

This newcomer is a man of action. I approve wholeheartedly.

“That’s an incredibly optimistic estimate, Dan,” Veronica replied. “We’re ‘staying put’ because we have to. You and I aren’t representative of the whole group.” She turned to me. “People are scared to death, Vic. They’re also tired, hungry, sick, and wounded. We literally cannot move any faster than we have been, and even that is pushing it. The medical needs will only increase from here as the weather gets worse.”

Maya nodded vigorously. “That’s what I’ve been saying, too. We’re putting a hell of a lot of folks at risk like this.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Dan spoke with urgent concern. “This isn’t a good spot to take our time. If we are attacked in the clearing, we’ll be overexposed and run the risk of massive casualties. If it happens on the move, people will scatter into the trees. The group might split, but they’d have a fighting chance for survival in the forest.”

“For how long?” Jules entered the verbal fray. “That might be true for someone healthy, but we’re talking about children and the elderly as well as the sick and injured. We can’t be responsible for leaving them to fend for themselves.”

The soldier frowned. “Of course we wouldn’t leave without them. As soon as it was safe, we’d round everyone up and continue.”

“Why bother?” asked Brax. “It would be an opportunity to cull the herd, so to speak, and improve the odds for the rest.”

Maya glared at him. “Don’t say that. No one gets left behind.”

He folded his arms disapprovingly but didn’t argue.

“The question we should address,” Steph chimed in, “is how to maximize the chances of survival for everyone most efficiently. I personally believe our defense force, however small it may be, is currently more than capable of repelling attacks. I suggest we focus on searching for somewhere we can hunker down, fortify our position, and tend to those who need it.”

Deacon agreed. “The thing is, everyone’s right. We’re too vulnerable here, but we can’t march these poor refugees all across the country. It’d defeat the purpose of saving them in the first place. I say we scout ahead and see if we can find somewhere that might work. There has to be a suitable place around here.”

“Vic?” Jules touched my arm. “You’ve been quiet. What do you think?”

I drew in a deep breath of dense, cold forest air. The river continued to rush in the background of my thoughts, filling my head with more white noise. “I’m…not sure.”

What I really wanted to do was simple: I wanted to station Dan’s men on guard at the camp, take my team, and search for the source of the continuing problems. Even if there were no official gods in charge at the moment, I knew they had to be out there, and they were probably watching. I wanted to find them, and when we found them, I wanted to open multiple cans of whoop-ass in their otherworldly faces.

Not the most elegant plan, but it sure would’ve made me feel a whole lot better. As it stood, I understood that my heart’s brute force desire was all but impossible. I was at the head of the pack, meaning I had a responsibility to do the right thing. Unfortunately, it was also up to me to decide exactly what the “right thing” was. The pressure felt like an elephant doing cartwheels on my shoulders. It would be so easy to do something very, very wrong.

“Vic?” Jules said my name again, her periwinkle eyes darkening with a hint of worry. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” The roots of a headache threatened to wind themselves around my temples. I’d begun to warm up to the idea of leadership in a selective sense. I could deal with my little band of badasses. Having to steer this whole massive ship was never something I had wanted.

Fighting evil monsters was so much easier than being a leader. Send a herd of centaurs at me, and I barely had to think. Swarm me with vampires, and I’d turn them all to dust. Ask me to make decisions regarding a hundred helpless people, and I stumbled around in the dark, unable to find any answers.

Then again, I knew I had no choice. Ultimately, I had made the decision to save as many as I could. There was no one to take my place if I abandoned them.

It felt shitty, like I was copping out of something I should’ve been able to handle on the spot, but the gravity of it all made my brain spin.

“We only want what’s best for everyone involved,” Veronica said.

“There is no blanket solution,” Brax interrupted brusquely. “You humans are too soft and accommodating. Allow sacrifices to be made for the greater good. That is what it means to succeed.”

“Careful,” Dan warned. “Not everyone’s definition of success includes a body count.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” said Brax, “but ours already does.”

“And I would change that in a heartbeat if I could,” Veronica replied. Her eyes grew bright and piercing. “Don’t talk to me like I’m an ignorant know-nothing, even if you think I am. You’re lucky we—”

“Veronica.” Jules stepped in and placed a hand on Big Red’s arm. A stony silence settled among us.

Veronica bit her lip. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Mean what?” Brax responded. “You never got to finish. I’d love to hear what you have to say.” His tone was dry, barbed, and amused but also dangerous.

“Guys,” Maya interjected. “This isn’t what we need right now. Can we—”

“What about her?” he asked, nodding in Maya’s direction. “If you come after me, you’re coming for her, too.”

“Hey, pal.” Dan put a hand on Brax’s shoulder, but the demon shrugged him off.

“Well?” The sunglasses focused on Veronica’s face.

She glared. “Listen, Morpheus. I fucking apologized. I’d ask you to do the same, but I have the feeling no one ever taught you common courtesy.”

“It’s a human convention,” he said. “Like a lot of other idiotic things.”

I found myself taking a step back, away from the time bomb my team meeting had become. Maybe it would have been better to speak to everyone individually.

May I ask for a moment of your time? Marcus cut in. Not long. A conference between friends instead of colleagues.

Once again, the old Roman had saved my ass.

Chapter Three

“I’ll be right back.” Turning quickly, I picked a direction and walked toward the edge of the clearing, determined not to look back. The voice of the river beckoned me toward the bank where the silvery-blue glint of the current caught my eye. I moved closer until the sound filled my ears entirely and sat there to mull things over.

I curled my fingers around a twig in the leaves. Soon, it had been thrown downstream. Two rocks and a pinecone followed in rapid succession. There was something cathartic about watching the river swallow my offerings, spiriting them away in a tidy whirl.

Little by little, my overactive mind settled as a vibrant dawn splashed across the early morning clouds. I could still see my breath puffing out in front of me, but fingers of sun warmed my back and shoulders.

Victoria. Let us converse. Tell me what burdens you.

“It’s not much. Just stupid shit.”

To the best of my knowledge, this has never stopped you before.

I chuckled. “Touché.” Leave it to Marcus to be real when I needed it the most. Despite his gentle prodding, I hemmed and hawed for a while longer before I hit on anything of substance. When I got the words out at last, they sounded weak and unconvincing, even to my own ears. “I just…I don’t know what I’m doing, and I’m terrified of losing the coin-toss here. When it was you and me and everyone else who could actually fight, the stakes were high, but not this high. I knew that no matter how badly we screwed up, we’d be able to take care of ourselves. That’s not the case anymore.” I hadn’t expected things to go south on an interpersonal level. The real possibility of an insurmountable rift now gnawed at me. If our group fell apart, our entire little colony would be caught in the crossfire.

I was afraid to say it out loud, but on some level, I resented the extra moral burden, too. Hacking and slashing my way through a whole damn pantheon I could do, no problem. Our world needed a hero, and I’d stepped up. Did I really need to be a leader, too?

You have commandeered the ship, Victoria. Now, you must plot its course. There is no way around the duties of a captain.

“Isn’t that what first mates are for?” I grumbled.

In a perfect world, perhaps. But alas, I am not there for you in body, Maya has other, equally pressing duties, and Abraxzael? You know my feelings on that one. The helm is yours, my friend, as it must be.

“I feel like this thing’s about to go Titanic on my ass.” I closed my eyes for a moment, seeing myself clinging onto a plank of wood adrift on the ocean.

There may well be other Titans, yes, Marcus mused. We will have to keep our eyes and ears open.

“No, I was talking about—never mind. It doesn’t matter. You’re right.” I dropped my hands behind me and leaned back on my arms, squinting up at the pale sky. “What the hell do you know about boating, anyway? You’ve never mentioned naval experience.”

A centurion prides himself in well-roundedness and adaptability. Marcus puffed his chest audibly.

I smirked. “Got it. You’ve never been on a boat in your life.”

What? This is slander—

“There you are.” Jules’ voice cut Marcus’ protest, much to my amusement and relief. She settled beside me, looking out over the expanse of water. “I think things are starting to cool down back there. I thought they would start brawling for a second.”

“My money’s on Veronica,” I said. “At least, it is when she’s that mad.” I palmed another rock and tossed it into the choppy current. “You holding up okay? We haven’t really had a chance to check in.”

“I mean, it’s been a little busy.” Jules shrugged. “I think I’m fine, as crazy as that sounds. There’s so much else I need to do that I don’t have time to be traumatized. Maybe that will be different once things aren’t constantly in crisis mode, but right now, I feel pretty good.”

“Damn. I don’t know if I’d be handling my shit half as well as you in that situation.” Jules might have been sweet, soft-spoken, and not very practiced in the violence department, but she was as tough as nails in a different way. A pang of shame for underestimating her cut through my stomach. I should’ve known better.

“No, you’d be doing even better. I know it.” She picked a big yellow leaf up and shredded it slowly in her fingers as she talked. “Besides, none of this is half as bad as public defense court. Talk about a hot mess.”

I grinned “Or, you know…college.”

She grinned. “No kidding. If I made it through three dates and a year of awkward stalking from Vince Espinoza, I can make it through anything.”

That cracked me up. “Holy shit, I forgot about Vinny. Remember when he kept leaving you presents outside your apartment?”

“Like a stray cat.” Jules shook her head. “You’d think after five dead bouquets, he would’ve learned not to leave fresh flowers on a doorstep without water, but nope. I can’t even tell you how many roses must have given up the ghost on that stoop.”

“That’s why he moved on to poetry.” I could still see the envelopes taped to the outside of her letterbox, usually containing a page of lined paper torn from the back of one of Vinny’s notebooks. His efforts at verse always read like a high schooler's plaintive love songs, even though we were all in our twenties by then.

“Then there was the mixtape.” Jules sighed deeply. “I mostly felt sorry for him by the end. Thank goodness he eventually had the sense to move or transfer or whatever.”

“Yeah. He, uh, definitely did that on his own, with no help from outside forces. Absolutely. What a smart guy.”

She turned to me, aghast. “Vic, don’t tell me you—”

“I’m not telling you,” I said. “I’m letting you infer that I cornered him outside Into Psych and told him that if I ever caught him holding a boombox up outside your window, I’d come down and shove it up his ass.”

Jules would’ve admonished me if she hadn’t laughed. “I guess I’m not surprised,” she admitted. “You’ve always had a way with words.”

It was my turn to sigh and with more than a little frustration. “I wish these problems would resolve that easily. Seems like my old methods don’t work so well anymore.”

“Brute force can only get you so far. I really don’t envy your position,” Jules responded, her face full of sympathy. “It’s like having a client whom I know is guilty. All I can do is find a way to mitigate some of the punishment. And sometimes, I don’t want to do that because I think they deserve what’s coming to them, but it’s my job.”

“That’s the thing, though.” I frowned. “This isn’t my job, or it wasn’t when I started. I should be out there hunting these pieces of shit. New York City felt like the whole universe for most of my life, but it’s only a fraction of the country, let alone the world. I have no clue what’s going on in Paris or Hong Kong, if those places even still exist. They could be burning to cinders right now, and I’d never know until it was too late.” The tension flooded back into my body. I threw another rock, harder than I had the others. It splashed heavily into the river. “Marcus said I have to captain the ship myself because everyone else has other shit to do. That’s true, but so do I, and I’m here watching over a flock of sitting ducks. Of course, I want to keep them safe, but I think it’s outside my skill set.”

Jules dismantled a second leaf, this one wide and apple-red. “I understand where you’re coming from, but don’t forget that these people were following you when they left New York. They don’t know what they’re doing any more than you do. I’ve said this already, and it bears repeating. You absolutely cannot leave them out here by themselves.” Her eyes bored into me, bright and intense.

Jules is correct. Though part of you may regret the path you have chosen, regret does not absolve you from your duty. You are too sound of heart and mind to walk away from the choices you have made.

“For what it’s worth,” she continued, “I think you might be wrong about the whole job description thing. You’re not simply out here killing gods, Vic. You’re out here saving the world, one little piece at a time. There’s more to that than looking cool while you swing a sword around.”

“But I’m so good at that part.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ve all seen ample evidence.” Jules scrambled to her feet and offered me her hand. “Come on, lady. You said it first—we’ve got work to do.”

I took her hand. “It’s not that I think you’re wrong. I know you’re right. I had all those thoughts myself before you joined me. I just…” The words slipped out of my grasp.

“Hey.” She put her hands on my shoulders. “It’s okay to be scared. You’d be insane if you weren’t. This is some gigantic, heavy stuff we’re up against. But we’re better off with you leading the charge than we would be in any other circumstance, and that’s a fact.” She smiled. “You can’t argue with me. I’m a lawyer. I’ll win.” With that, she pulled me toward the clearing. “It’ll be fine, as long as we stay undivided.”

There is no shame in shared strength, Marcus agreed. Use it to your advantage.

The group in front of the canvas teepee had broken up a little in our absence. Dan and a few of his soldiers were off to the side, likely discussing the state of the patrols. Maya examined a cut on a young mother’s forearm, while Steph cradled a baby stiffly in her arms. The child had one tiny hand entwined in the agent’s blonde hair, and she stared down at its sleepy face, looking both entranced and confused.

Deacon sat on a log nearby, his gun on the wood beside him. He had magazines and bullets arranged in his lap as he took a quick inventory of what was left. “Hey, Vic,” he said without glancing up. “You get things sorted out?”

“I think so. Get a load of Mama Steph over there.”

He pulled a face. “That’s a new one. New and weird.” He fell silent when he turned toward his partner, studying her with a mix of humor and surprise. “I’ll be damned. She hasn’t eaten it yet.”

Jules swatted him. “Deacon!”

“You don’t know Steph,” he countered, still eyeing her. “That woman’s more like a dragon than anything else. I guess this brings out the best and the worst in everyone at the same time.” He finished counting his ammunition and loaded it rapidly back into the mags. “I’m running lower than I’d like. All this fighting is really making a dent.”

I nodded. “I’ll add ‘supply run’ to our to-do list. I’m sure Maya needs it too.”

“Take the truck.” Veronica emerged from the tent, corralling her hair back into a thick ponytail. “There’s still some gas in it. If you can find more while you’re at it, all the better.”

I’d almost forgotten about the black SUV we had managed to bring with us after the showdown in Lincoln Tunnel. In the past few days, it had felt like more of a hindrance than a help as we navigated the thing through the woods, but that pain in the ass would finally pay off.

“You have to be careful,” a voice said over my shoulder. Brax stepped up behind me. “Car’s gonna be a moving target on an empty road.”

“It can’t be helped,” Veronica replied. “We need to replenish our provisions. Maya said she’s already starting to see some early signs of malnutrition in the kids.” Veronica caught Dan’s attention and waved him over.

The Were woman finished bandaging the baby’s mom, and Steph handed the child over. They rejoined us too, completing our seven-person council.

“Are we ready to rock and roll?” Dan asked. “Whatever you’ve got, lay it on me. I guarantee it’s better than nothing.” His aura of general conviviality provided a surprisingly strong support against the pressure rapidly closing in on me again.

“All right.” I glanced around at my motley crew. “Listen up.”

Chapter Four

“It’s pretty clear we can’t keep doing what we’re doing. The group isn’t in the greatest shape, and that won’t improve over time. Our best bet is to find a place to fortify as a stronghold. That way, we’ll be able to withstand these random attacks without endangering anyone unnecessarily. Plus, it will provide space to care for whoever needs it, maybe set up an infirmary. The sooner we can heal people, the better.”

“Want me to send some men out?” Dan was already reaching for his radio. “I have a few I can spare. I got a report that all fronts are quiet for the time being.”

I shook my head. “Maya, this one’s yours. I’d rather have troops securing our current perimeter at all times, just in case, and I know you can take care of business if need be.”

“Okay.” She rolled her sleeves up. “Where should I start? Keep going west until I find something?”

I thought about it briefly. “Don’t go too far. We don’t want to haul everyone on an expedition, and I’m a little concerned about getting too close to civilization again, such as it is. The last thing we need is to get caught in the crossfire of some messed-up turf war.”

“A ghost town could be useful, though,” Deacon interjected. “We’ve got too many people to assume they’ll all fit in one building. If we found a place with multiple shelters, I think we’d do a lot better.”

“That complicates defense a bit,” said Dan, “but you’re not wrong.” He rubbed his stubble. “It probably wouldn’t be too hard to work something out. Maybe we’d need a constant moving patrol.”

“It would be a total disaster if there wasn’t enough room for everyone.” Veronica frowned. “Nerves are frayed down to nothing already. I’m afraid riots would break out, or people will take off on their own.”

“Do we have a head count?” Maya asked.

“At least a hundred,” Veronica said. “I’ve slowly compiled a list of names, but it’s nowhere near complete. And this is after we lost so many in the tunnel.”

“A hundred’s a lot of bodies,” Dan commented. “We ought to be looking for a hotel or something like that. Could use some of the upper-floor windows as sniper nests in a pinch.”

“Hm. Not bad. I like that.” Steph nodded her approval thoughtfully. “It would also allow us to compartmentalize potential damage or casualties if there were a breach. Station someone in every wing, and we’d at least have eyes on the whole place.”

“And we wouldn’t have to drive the truck off-road and hide it under a tarp,” Jules added. “There are a lot of little townships scattered around here. I bet one of them is abandoned.”

“I’ll go in a big circle,” Maya decided. “The radius will have to be pretty large. It might take me a day or two to get back here.”

“That’s fine,” I told her. “We’re not doctors, but we can hold down the fort. I’d rather wait a little longer if it means we know where we’re going. Good luck.”

She gave me an encouraging smile and went off into the trees. I noticed Steph watching her go until she was completely out of sight. She looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it at the last minute.

“Big Red—Veronica, I mean.” I chewed my lip. “Sorry. Can you figure out a system for rations? I don’t want to do this, but I don’t think there’s any other option until we find more food. I think people will respond best if you handle it. They really seem to respect you.”

Veronica laughed. “I told you, call me whatever you want. I’m happy to be in charge of managing supplies. I’ll even take stock of our med stuff, free of charge.”

I nodded. “You’re the best. Keep your finger on the pulse of the herd, would you? It’ll be useful to know what kind of headspace people are in. If you feel like there’s trouble brewing, give me a heads-up. We’ll do our best to nip possible conflicts in the bud.”

“Will do, Chief.” Thus assigned, she disappeared into the teepee to start her work. Boxes and bags shuffled around, out of sight.

I turned my attention to Dan and Brax. “Now that’s taken care of, I want to address a slightly more complicated problem.”

“Shoot,” the soldier said, leaning forward. “I’m all ears.”

“The issue is this… We can clothe all these refugees, we can feed them, we can shelter them, but it won’t mean much if they’re completely helpless to defend themselves. Our front line could always break or be neutralized. I’d like to make sure there’s a second line of defense in place. How hard do you think it would be to drum up a citizen’s militia?”

The two looked at me, at each other, and back at me. “Like, working together? I don’t know…” Dan cleared his throat.

Brax said nothing

“What?” I glanced from one to the other. “You’re a military man, Dan. This is easy, right? People will want to defend what’s theirs.”

“I think…” He chanced a look at the demon, who stared impassively through his dark lenses. “No, you’re right. We should be able to do this.”

Brax still said nothing, his arms folded across his chest. He stood square and tall, unmoving. The charcoal-colored brands peeked out from beneath the edges of his clothes.

”Good,” I said. “We need this to happen, and we need it now. I can’t have a bunch of untrained civilians simply sitting wherever we put them. We might as well wrap them up with a bow and hand them over to the Forgotten.”

Dan grunted and stepped back. “All right. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” Then he said, “But I won’t sacrifice anyone’s well-being for any reason.”

“There will be no sacrifice,” I decreed. “Make this work. We’re depending on you.”

Solemnly, he agreed. He set his jaw and gestured for Brax to follow him. “Come on. I’ll show you what we’ve got in terms of weapons.”

I waited for the odd pair to walk off together in stony silence, unsure if that particular strategy would be the best idea in the long run. It was at least where I thought Brax would be most useful, and Dan’s expertise in that area couldn’t be denied. I hoped his humanity would counterbalance Brax’s ruthless nature. I trusted them to be professionals about it.

“That’s a powder keg waiting to blow,” Deacon observed helpfully.

I shot him a look. “Can it, Captain Obvious. I’m sending you and Jules on the supply run. Go in and help Veronica put the rations together. That’ll give you a good idea of what we need. Jules, you focus on the medical supplies for now, since Maya’s not here. With any luck, we’ll be moving as soon as she gets back, so only worry about the essentials this time. Once we get settled, we can do another run.”

Deacon gave me a mock salute. “Aye aye, Captain.” He laughed a little as I scowled at him.

“Get going, St. Clare,” I said. “It’s a good thing I’ve got Jules to keep an eye on you.”

He had barely turned his back to duck into the tent after Veronica when a bizarre wheezing sound struck my ears. “What the hell is that?” We both glanced over our shoulders, only to be shocked by a rotund vision in a shabby suit and a somewhat mangled hat. “Franki.”

“Hey, kid.” The mobster coughed hard, pounded on his chest, and spat a wad of something disgusting into the leaves near his feet. He bent at the waist, one giant hand on his knee. “Gimme a sec. I’m dyin’ here. Or I would be if I still could.”

“What’s wrong?” I closed the distance between us fast. “And where the fuck have you been? No one’s seen you since you dipped out on Maya back at Madison Square Garden.”

He finished hacking and drew a hand across his lips. “I didn’t ‘dip out’ on her, all right? I got lost in the shuffle. Sue me. I’m here now, ain’t I?” His brow furrowed and rheumy eyes darkened. “Anyway, look. We got a problem.”

“It’s never good news with you, is it?” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling another headache brewing. “What kind of problem?”

Frank’s expression didn’t change. “A dead one.”

Chapter Five

“What’s going on?” Veronica’s red head popped out of the tent, followed by the rest of her lithe, lanky form. “Who’s doing all that horrible coughing?”

I pointed to Frank, who raised his hand sheepishly.

“Secondhand smoke,” he croaked. “I’m not sick, lady. I swear it. I’m not sure I can get sick anymore.”

I clapped a hand on Frank’s beefy shoulder. “He’s good. He’s with us.”

The doubt still clouded Veronica’s eyes, but she didn’t challenge my assertion.

“Come on,” he told me insistently. “We ain’t got all day. You’re gonna want to see this, kiddo. Trust me.”

“Great,” I mumbled. “I hate it already.” I motioned to Deacon and Steph. They exchanged a look and stepped after us without a word.

A dead problem meant a dead body, which in turn told me that the gods were most likely out and about. Frank wouldn’t have been so jazzed-up otherwise. It bothered me that they’d killed right under my nose. They were getting bolder, and I needed to pay more attention.

The mobster led us to a spot on the outskirts of camp demarcated by a single small tent. We moved into the forest for a few dozen yards, and Frank stopped short. I saw the shoes before I saw anything else—brown loafers ill-suited for the outdoors. The body lay on its back, the arms flung out to the sides. The face was young and male and extremely, inhumanly pale.

“Oh, fuck,” Veronica whispered. “It’s Everett.”

“Do you know him?” I asked. The kid couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, his face sheathed in a combination of patchy stubble and acne scars. His eyes, pale and clouded, were wide open.

“Not well. I got to know him a little over the past…however long we’ve been traveling.” A sorrowful expression spread across her face. “Nice kid. Really nice kid.”

Steph stepped forward, knelt beside the corpse, and examined the upper body carefully. As she turned Everett’s head to the side, I caught a glimpse of deep purple bruising all around his neck and along the opposite side of his face. Someone had evidently beaten the snot out of him before he died.

“Puncture wounds,” she announced. “And not only two. Lots of them.” She pointed to the kid’s neck, throat, shoulders, and arm and studied his paper-white skin. “There’s no blood here. He’s been drained. Whoever did this to him didn’t have to. See this here?” She gestured to a certain distinctive pattern of bruising on either side of the throat. “It looks like he died from manual strangulation. They didn’t have to beat the shit out of him first if they intended to choke him anyway. But they did it because they wanted to. I think they liked it.”

Veronica made a disgusted sound. “This is sick.” Her eyes drifted to Frank, full of undisguised suspicion.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He hunkered down at a safe distance from her. “I may be a freak, but I ain’t a killer.”

“It’s true,” Deacon said. “At least this time. It doesn’t look like a typical vampire kill.”

“Never thought I’d hear the words ‘typical’ and ‘vampire’ in the same sentence,” I muttered. “But what’s with draining the blood? That’s some pretty vampy shit.”

Vampires are not the only Forgotten who drain their prey. Others require blood to sustain life, though I would say few are so gleefully malicious in their unsavory deeds.

Before she stood, Steph closed Everett’s eyes—a touching gesture for someone normally so cold. “Is there a family?” she asked Veronica. “If so, they should be notified right away before the rumor mill starts to churn. No worse way to find out about a death than through the grapevine.”

“I don’t know,” the other woman responded. She was transfixed by the youth’s ghastly white face. “I’ll find out. I can’t believe this happened.”

“Find out as much about him as you can,” Deacon instructed. “We can’t rule out anything yet. Yeah, it looks like something supernatural, but I’d still like to know if he feuded with anyone, if he had enemies, and if someone was pissed off enough to want him dead. It could be some jackass trying to use the current situation to their advantage so they can get away with murder.”

Veronica tugged grimly on her ponytail. “I really hope that’s not the case. I’d like to think all these people are trustworthy.”

“So would I.” Deacon motioned toward the body. “And yet, here we are.”

As Veronica darted back to the teepee in the clearing, I moved beside Deacon, taking my own closer look at the unfortunate young man. If it weren’t for the pallor of his skin, I might not have noticed that he’d been bitten at all. The dark marks on his neck concealing the puncture holes. His shirt and jacket were torn in places, suggesting that the wounds had been inflicted through them.

“What was he doing out here?” I wondered out loud.

“My guess? Taking a leak.” Deacon nodded toward the tent at the edge of the woods. “I’d bet that’s his tent over there, and he was out here to take one last piss before turning in.”

“It’s too bad Maya left,” Steph said. “She might’ve been able to draw some better conclusions. High marks in forensics and crime scene investigation won’t make up for actual medical training.”

“Well, she’s a vet. But you’re right. She’d be leagues ahead of any of us.” I was most disturbed by the distance of the corpse from the rest of the campsite—or rather, the lack thereof. “Why was this thing so close? That’s what I want to know.”

The Forgotten can be excellent at hiding in plain sight. We will need to be extra vigilant until we get to the bottom of this.

The hair stood up on the back of my neck. I didn’t like the sensation of being watched, or the feeling of the rug pulled out from under my feet. It had been a long time since I’d been caught off guard like this. I had gotten used to a certain predictability in the gods’ behavior. They’d show up somewhere, and I’d go there and Gladius Solis them to death. It had worked every time so far.

Suddenly, someone unseen had struck close to home, and apparently without warning. No one even really knew what happened to Everett yet. I didn’t want to imagine what awful damage this news would inflict upon morale.

“We have to keep this on the down-low,” Deacon said, eerily in sync with my thoughts. “It’ll be impossible to keep it from getting out entirely, but if anyone asks, it was an accident, right? No details. People will lose their shit if they think they’re hunted.”

“Jeezum Crow.” Frank mopped his forehead with his sleeve. His eyes almost popped out of his head. I noticed that when he was stressed, a map of veins stood out beneath his clammy skin. It was a little gross.

“Relax,” I said. “We have nothing to do with this, so we have nothing to hide. Our job is to find this murdering sack of shit and wipe him off the face of the planet. You dig?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed hard, nodding his head so vigorously I thought it’d pop off. “I got it.”

“All right. We’re cool.” I patted his hefty shoulder. “Promise me one thing, Frank. Whatever you do, don’t go vamp. No matter what happens or what anyone says. Don’t go vamp.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.

It appears the game has changed, Marcus commented. This is an interesting move by the enemy. Be sure to keep your guard up at all times, Victoria. The Forgotten have eyes in the strangest places. They may be watching.

Another shiver ran up the back of my neck. “Let’s go,” I said. “Frank, keep your head down.” We left Everett’s body where it lay in the woods and walked in silence back to the heart of camp. Veronica flitted among the camp’s residents, prodding as vaguely as she could for information. All anyone knew was that the kid had been missing since the night before, that he had walked out of his tent and not come back.

No one had seen or heard a single thing, yet Everett lay dead just inside the tree line, his body riddled with wounds.

After Veronica had gathered as much intel as she could, Deacon and I headed back to that lonely little tent to retrieve the body. We wrapped him in his sleeping bag, picked him up between us, and carried him deeper into the trees. Then, we took turns. One of us stood watch while the other dug the boy’s grave. Deacon was the one who buried him.

When he was done, he stuck the shovel down into the earth and said, “Damn.”

“It’ll be better from here, right?” Every single one of my senses was on overdrive, listening for any sound and looking for any flash of a shape, a shadow, or a color from the corner of my eye. Nothing could be trusted now that a boy had been plucked from among us. “It has to get better.”

He put an arm around my shoulders. “I hope so, Vic,” he said. “But something tells me we haven’t hit rock bottom yet.”

Chapter Six

I lay sandwiched between two blankets, staring up at the clear, dark-blue night sky. Every time I moved, the leaves under my back made a sound like a crackling fire, but it didn’t matter—I couldn’t sleep anyway. My breath puffed out like smoke with every exhale. The tip of my nose was numb from the cold. A tent would’ve provided at least a little insulation, except that whenever I looked at one, I thought of Everett’s standing open and empty.

“Dammit,” I muttered, peeled back the top blanket, and sat up. “I have got to get a grip.” I sat there for a few minutes and hugged myself to coax the warmth back into my core. After a few minutes. I shoved the cover off my feet and got up.

My joints creaked in the silence. A shiver ran through my body. We were nowhere near the official onset of winter, but it sure as hell felt like snow was just around the corner.

“I hope Maya gets back soon.” The thought of her wandering the forests and fields alone in these temperatures was kind of depressing until I remembered that she had a fur coat. I chuckled. “She’s probably doing better than any of us right now.”

The air was cold even in my lungs, filling the space in my chest. I stepped away from my improvised bed and toward the edge of the camp clearing. Maybe a good old-fashioned patrol would tire me out and help me get my head on straight. I felt a little antsy, even a little haunted. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a little midnight jaunt. Patting my hip to make sure the Gladius Solis rested safely in its sheath, I let my feet carry me into the trees. As long as I had my sword, I was good to go toe to toe with anything that might come out of the deepest shadows.

Including whatever had killed Everett. Especially whatever had killed him.

But the woods along the Delaware Water Gap were all but deserted. The only sounds came from my own footsteps shuffling through the groundcover and the constantly rushing river beyond the forest. Thin slants of moonlight pierced down through the patchy canopy. It was peaceful out there and beautiful, if a little eerie. The taut spring in the back of my mind began to unwind.

I looped around the far perimeter and started the trek back toward the vague silhouette of the central teepee. Someone stood out in front of it, and as I drew closer, my heart jumped into my throat. I had the sword hilt in hand, ready to come alive, by the time I realized it was Brax, clad in his trademark coat and glasses, standing guard.

He nodded my way when I came within earshot. “Hey.” Noting the sword, a smile hovered over his lips. “Did I scare you?”

“Not any more than usual,” I shot back. Lame but still better than saying yes. “Do you ever sleep or what?”

The demon chuckled grimly. “I did a lot of sleeping in Asphodel,” he said. “Best thing to do if you can find a safe enough place. Nothing kills time faster than unconsciousness. I guess I used it all up.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, but I’ll take your word for it.” I kicked a clear space in the dry leaves with my foot. “Mind if I hang out for a while? Sandman stood me up tonight.”

Brax shrugged. “Be my guest.” He said nothing while I sat, but I could almost feel him take notice as I slipped the medallion chain over my head and slid it into a pocket of my coat. The metal was freezing on my skin, and I suspected Marcus would only have snarky things to say about this chance meeting anyway. He might be annoyed once I put him back on, but whatever. He was cute when he pouted.

“You know he doesn’t have any clue about what really happened last time? Brax moved a little closer so he could lower his voice. “He wasn’t there. He has no right to dispense facts.”

“Marcus isn’t a liar, Brax,” I said. Now I was very glad I’d taken the chain off. No doubt, the centurion would be chewing my ear off about my companion’s flagrant disrespect otherwise.

“I didn’t say he was lying. Only that he knows a lot less than he thinks he does about this stuff.” The demon peered into the distance, his facial expression hidden behind the impenetrable façade of his shades. “I suppose I should say he only really saw one side—what he considers to be the good side. I always found it amazing how guys like him could work themselves into such a righteous fury. There was nothing righteous about it.” His face darkened. “Those guys were cowards, in the end. They thought they understood and that they were unquestionably in the right. History would bear out the justice of their actions. But the truth of it is, every fucking one of them was a coward or traitor. And we died in droves because of the choices they made.”

I locked my arms around my knees and tried not to seem overly interested for fear it would stop him from talking. I’d never heard him so voluble, and certainly not about his past. Learning anything about what Brax knew was usually like pulling teeth.

“I won’t judge you if you tell me more,” I said. “I promise.”

“Yes, you will.” He sighed. “It’s in your nature, but I’ll tell you anyway. Maybe you’ll learn something. Long story short, most of the humans who were here in the old days refused to join us when we mounted our rebellion against the gods. The Marked began as slaves, you see, specifically crafted to serve the gods’ every whim. We were made to be compliant, controllable. We were, for a time.

“But the injustice was too much to sweep under the rug forever. We were treated worse than dirt by most of those entitled jackasses, and as far as I’m concerned, the vast majority turned a blind eye. It was abundantly clear that our lives weren’t worth half as much as the dirt beneath our feet. Resentment festered in the hearts of my people and concentrated on those who caused us so much suffering and those who overlooked it. When the idea of rebellion first made its way through our ranks, we had some hope that the humans might help us out. The gods were a shared enemy between us, after all.

“We were wrong. Many humans, as I’ve said, removed themselves entirely, too weak or too frightened to stand against their oppressors. The ones who chose to fight threw their lots in with the gods instead. They assumed that since we were nothing but a slave race, a pet project, our inherent weakness gave us no chance. But they forgot that the gods wanted nothing if it wasn’t the best. We were strong, and we were many.” He trailed off. “That’s what we thought, anyway. In the end, the gods were mightier. They called it proof of their mastery over us as they threw us from their realm.”

I rested my chin on my arms. “The humans were shitty. They were wrong. You lost without their help.”

He shook his head. “The humans weren’t merely wrong. It’s impossible to say now if an allegiance would have helped. I may never know anything for sure except that they didn’t bother to try. They have proven themselves irredeemable, unworthy of my trust.”

I arched my eyebrow, wondering if he fully grasped the irony of unloading this whole thing onto a human. “Every one of them?”

“You could work your way onto an extremely short list,” he said curtly. “Don’t quote me on it, and don’t push your luck. I’m here because of what’s at stake—my freedom, this world, and possibly others beyond it. The gods must not be allowed to run rampant, seizing power as they want it. Unfortunately, it’s not up to me to put an end to things for good. I’m not the one who received the call.” His gaze flicked to the sword at my belt. “That honor belongs to you.”

“It is an honor, and I’ll do it as much justice as I can.” I sat up and looked him in the eye. “I’m sorry about what happened to your people, Brax, but they did it to mine, too. In the millions, back then and now. You were in the city. You saw it.”

“True. I also saw legions of humans willingly at Rocca’s beck and call. I saw them cutting us down at the behest of the gods, their eyes as hungry as beasts. Throughout their long, bloody history, humans have never needed much of an excuse to slaughter each other.” He turned to face me. “That’s why I’ll pass this warning along now before it’s too late. Without a strong leader, this group will collapse into itself like a dying star, and for once, the gods won’t be responsible.”

“Don’t say that.” I frowned. “We’ve made it this far. I know things are rough right now, but we’ll find a way through like always.”

“It’s only a matter of time before the tension reaches the breaking point,” said Brax. “These are desperate souls struggling to survive. Don’t be surprised if they turn on each other. Times like these bring out the worst.”

His point was a little too salient, and it irked me. I stood from of the leaves and brushed them off my pants. “Okay, listen—”

“Get out here! We’re under attack!” The shout cut off my retort, but it also instantly redirected my irritation. I snapped a glance in the direction of the yell on the opposite end of the clearing. Brax pulled the hammer off his back.

“This isn’t over,” I told him as we both broke into a dead sprint toward the sound. “One thing at a time. We’ll finish this conversation later.”

The demon wasn’t listening. He stared straight ahead and focused on the destination, primed and ready for action.

I reached into my coat pocket and tossed the medallion around my neck once more. “Hey, Marcus. Looks like it’s showtime again.”

Chapter Seven

Hail, Victoria. Early to conflict this morn, I see. I have always been of the opinion that a good stiff battle makes for excellent calisthenics.

“Thanks for the fitness tip, Jane Fonda. Maybe they’ll put some music on for us next time.” I ran hot on Brax’s heels on the way through the camp, dodging through a maze of sleeping refugees. Some of them woke and stared after us, bleary-eyed.

“Hey, what the fuck? I think she just jumped over me—”

“Sorry,” I threw over my shoulder. “Go back to sleep. Everything’s fine.”

There is nothing quite like the calming magic of a white lie. Though perhaps it would work better if told while you were not hurtling toward the source of a distress call.

He was only ribbing me, but I didn’t have time to be amused. The tree line approached rapidly and with it, another battle. I also didn’t have time to think of a witty reply. Brax’s hammer cut a searing orange arc between two trunks, offering me my first glimpse of what we were defending against. It looked like more of the same—a large handful of assorted Forgotten surged out of the silent forest, bearing weapons and war cries.

Spatters of muzzle flashes shattered the darkness, and I looked for the customary roving band of satyrs. Instead, I found soldier Dan and a small contingent of his men peppering the enemy with volleys of brutally accurate fire. Several of the advancing figures spun backward or simply dropped in place, and those who made it as far as hand-to-hand clashes were met with knives, batons, and even large branches seized from the forest floor.

Those guys and girls knew how to party.

I leaned harder into my run, leapt up over a log, and swung the Gladius Solis from overhead on a charging vampire cop. He gasped, his corporeal form immediately dissolving into a flurry of ash that sifted down through the foliage. The gunfire faltered momentarily into a clatter of expert reloads. Up ahead, I picked out the distinctive, hulking shape of a lone werewolf looming over the small horde. Its jaws were open, dripping thick, silvery threads of saliva. Unlike Maya, there was no hint of intelligence or control in its eyes—only pure, unadulterated rage. If allowed to reach the lines, it might well break through with sheer brute force.

“I’m going in,” I yelled to no one in particular. My boots gouged the soil where they landed, kicking up clods of dirt and refuse. The Gladius Solis perched ready and waiting in my hand, the blade alight and humming with potential. Pretending to be a runner in the world’s most deadly game of football, I wove around the other monsters as they tried to latch on. All my focused power had to be saved for my main target if I wanted to pull off the idea coalescing in my head. Ever since I got the sword to become a shield, I had a feeling it could be other things, too. It was finally time to put that theory to the test.

Twenty feet out from the wolf, I cocked my arm back and pitched the weapon like a spear, straight toward the creature’s slobbering, open mouth. It flew up and up, followed by my eyes and concentration. “Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath, pushing hard with my mind. A tendril of light materialized in the sword’s wake. “Yes!” It thickened into a rope, which twined its way around the wolf’s head and shoulders. “Damn, this thing is awesome.” The blade arced over the mangy muzzle like a grappling hook, binding the snout. “Did you see that perfect throw?” I asked Marcus, unable to contain my pride. “That shit was Major League!”

The Gladius Solis is only as great as its wielder, Victoria. I must say your innovations continue to impress me.

“Necessity is the mother of invention,” I quipped. “Or, you know, badassery.”

As I said this, I dropped to the ground in a perfect home-plate slide, zipping neatly between the werewolf’s wide stance. One paw crashed down to the right of my head, briefly obscuring my vision in a haze of dust and leafy debris. Hooking one arm around the creature’s ankle, I leveraged my momentum against its balance, hopped to my feet, and darted out of its shadow the instant before the massive lycanthrope fell in a heap on the ground.

Yellow eyes flashed with hatred. Gangly limbs whipped at me, propelled by bone-breaking force. The Gladius Solis returned back to my hand. It trailed the golden rope, which I used to pull the wolf’s gnashing mouth shut. Blood ran in a trickle from where the tongue was ensnared in a tangle of fangs.

“How’s that for finesse?” I said to Marcus. My eyes stayed locked on the Were lying trapped but not helpless before me. Its arms and legs gathered gradually into a hunch I recognized as the preamble to a lunging attack. The back legs pushed upward, and the rope snapped taut. I suddenly had a werewolf on a godly golden leash. My sword poised, I fell onto my back foot, gauging the arc of the wolf’s jump. At the zenith of its leap, I let my blade fly one more time into the heart of the beast.

An acrid whiff of singed hair assaulted my nose. Wisps of dark smoke curled from the point where the hilt was planted. The thick, mangy hide smoldered in a widening radius around the wound. At first, there was no blood. Time seemed to stutter a little. The werewolf hung frozen for a fraction of a second, then it collapsed in a tangle of paws and teeth and wide, staring eyes. The rope went slack and disappeared.

The sword came out cleanly, as always. I turned to face the remainder of the horde when I noticed the dead wolf’s shape begin to shift. It shrank from a hulking, towering monster to a twisted young woman, her frame scarcely more than skin stretched over bone. Taking a deep, sharp breath, I looked away. The girl was not like Maya, who was healthy and could take care of herself.

Dan and his men had pushed forward, effectively sandwiching the rest of the attackers into a thin strip of forest. The barrage of bullets continued, some zinging around me as I slashed and burned my way through the now-meager field of enemies. These small fries were no match for any of us except in number, and even then, we were quick enough to stay in control. I downed a couple with two well-placed strikes to the head and pirouetted to decapitate a third. To my surprise, the scene that met my eye was one of Brax on the receiving end of a surprise attack while he was already engaged in an enthusiastic grapple. The second creature jumped on his back, cackling gleefully. The demon pitched face-first into the ground.

“Oh, shit!” I shoved the most recent kill out of my way. My strides were more like bounds over the moderate distance between us.

“Get the hell out of here, you little asswipe!” Dan exploded into my view from the side and swooped down on the fiend on our friend’s back. He jabbed the blade of a serious machete through its neck. Brax looked up in the middle of crushing his first opponent’s trachea, and the two locked eyes. The soldier nodded solemnly, which his teammate returned. They were almost ritualistic in their seriousness.

Meanwhile, I was still hauling ass to get over there. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything, boys,” I said with a smirk and a wink. “You need a minute?”

The man cleared his throat and turned his back on the demon. By the time I reached his side, Brax was standing and looking pointedly nowhere near Dan.

“Nice job with the dog,” the soldier said to me. “You really made short work of that thing.”

“I’ve had some experience.” I looked around, ready to jump back into the fray, and found that the infantry support team was finishing the stragglers off. “Looks like you guys have too.”

“You could call it a crash course,” he answered, grinning. “All my people are great people. The kind you can rely on. Remember that if you ever need a hand.”

I smiled in response. “Sure will. It’s real nice to have some meaningful backup.”

Dan glanced at Brax. “Speaking of reliable, I thought you could use something a little more effective, brother.”

The word brother made the demon bristle. He looked down at the bodies at his feet, up at Dan, and sidelong at his hammer. He patted the weapon’s head, which was still smoky from recently-extinguished flames. “Think so? This seems to be working just fine.”

Neither said another word after that, but I could’ve cut the atmosphere with the soldier’s machete. I took it as my cue to head back toward the place where I’d left my blankets. Whatever was going on between them, I did not want to get caught in the middle.

I like this Dan, Marcus announced, unprompted. I think we would be great compatriots.

I snorted. “You would say that.”

Chapter Eight

The next time I opened my eyes, watery sunlight made its way through the holes in the treetops, spilling thinly over the camp in the woods. The morning air was heavy and cold, and drops of dew stood out as big as thumbtacks on the ground. Both my blankets had been soaked through, and I shivered intensely as I rolled them up. It was obvious that our tenure there had expired.

Behind the teepee where the trucks were parked under a worn-out tarp, I found Deacon already preparing to make the supply run. I’d hoped to catch him and Jules before they left, and it looked like I had plenty of time. He folded the tarp, shaking out the water as best he could so it wouldn’t mildew. “Hey, Vic,” he said casually as I drew near. “You’re up early.”

“You know what they say about early birds,” I smirked. “And lucky for me, you’re still here.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did you just call me a worm?”

I laughed. “Anyway, I’ll go on the supply run with you. In light of the attack last night, I think it’s prudent that you have one more for backup in case something happens.”

“Ah, yeah.” Deacon shook the tarp one more time and placed it in the back of one of the trucks. “Sorry we missed that shindig. It was taken care of so fast that everything was over by the time I knew what was going on.”

I shrugged. “No big deal. Dan, Brax and I had it covered.” I gave him a sharp look. “There was a Were this time, though, and I think that could be a problem.” In the city, I didn’t think I’d seen a single lycanthrope, but the fact that there was one roaming the woods was proof that they had ranged this far east, if rarely. “Might be bigger game on the way, if you get my drift.”

“Yeah, I got it. And I agree. Which means we’re gonna have to start looking for some bigger guns.”

“You mean like this one?” The voice was young but strong, and it caught us off guard. We turned to see a kid strode up with a rifle strapped to his back. The barrel extended above his head like an antenna. He glanced at us, his dark eyes deep and intense. A kerchief was tied around his neck, and a pistol tucked into the pocket of his jeans. “I heard you talking yesterday. Let me go with you. You’re gonna need all the manpower you can get. And womanpower.” He nodded to me. “I don’t mean no disrespect.”

That line alone, plus the guns, almost won me over, but Deacon was more skeptical. “What’s your name?” he asked, surveying the kid. “How old are you? Where’d you get that stuff?”

“What is this, man, the national census?” But the boy’s laugh rang genuinely. “My name is Luis Ortega. I’m eighteen. I got this shit from my grandma’s house. That should tell you all you need to know, eh?”

“Not really,” Deacon said. “Your grandma kept an assault weapon over her mantle, huh?”

Part of me wanted to tell him to cut Luis a break, but I knew he was being cautious.

“Yeah, hermano, maybe she did.” The youngster took the rifle off his back but kept it clutched in both hands, staring the agent down with smoldering defiance. “You wanna take a look or something? Go ahead. I got nothing to hide.”

“I would, yes.” Deacon reached for the weapon, and for a split second, I didn’t think the kid would give it up. But he released it and shoved his hands into his pockets, squaring his posture. While Deacon inspected the firearm, Luis continued. “You ever been to Spanish Harlem? These things are a dime a dozen up there, homes.” He kept his eyes locked on the older man. “Look, I know I coulda gone to school. But school ain’t gonna keep my abuela from starving, you know what I mean? We do what we can to get by, hermano. We do what we can.”

The man handed the gun back. “You can shoot it, I assume.” His tone was still somewhat stern, but his face betrayed that he was quickly warming up to this young man.

“Yes, sir.” Luis nodded. “I’m looking to help, now that I…well…” He stopped and scratched his nose. “You know.”

Deacon looked at me. “What do you think, Vic? Give him a pass, or nah?”

Though this man is young, he is wise beyond his years, and his heart beats true. There were many of him in Rome—desperate youths forced into a life they never wanted, cursed by the station of their birth.

I shrugged. “He’s right. We can use every pair of hands we can get.”

“Then he’s in your car.” The agent palmed a set of keys and tossed them to me. “I’ll take Jules in mine. You guys can lead.”

“Suit yourself, St. Clare.” Motioning for Luis to follow, I headed for the second truck. “Don’t fall too far behind, all right?” To my companion, I said, “Get on in and let’s roll out. The others will catch up soon.” I wanted to get as far ahead of the day as we possibly could to stretch the dwindling daylight. “Keep your head on a swivel while we’re out there.”

“Yeah.” Luis climbed up into the passenger’s seat. “I always do.”

We drove slowly until I found a way to nose us out of the woods and back onto the highway, then we cruised. A few minutes of twisting the radio’s tuning dial found airwaves full of static, so I punched it off and listened to the hum of the tires on the road. My passenger sat quietly for a while, his eyes trained out the window on the gorgeous, rolling farmland. He seemed to be thinking hard about something or other. After a short while, he turned in his seat to watch me instead of the scenery.

“Can I ask you a question?” He was polite but firm. A kid who knew what he was about, even at that clueless age. “You can say no, but I’m curious.”

“Shoot,” I said.

“What’s with that crazy sword you got?” His gaze strayed toward the sheath. “I’ve seen you use it a few times, and I guess I don’t get it. What’s it made of?”

“Honestly, I can’t tell you much about it myself.” It was half a lie. “I got it from a friend of mine, and he wasn’t able to tell me much before he had to go. It doesn’t matter to me as long as it gets the job done.”

“It’s good to have friends. Sometimes.” Luis periodically shifted his line of vision from me to the windshield and all the mirrors in quick succession. He was hypervigilant in a way that made me grateful and sad at the same time—grateful for his thorough observation skills, and sad because I knew he was too young to be so worried about things like that.

“He was just some old guy,” I said nonchalantly. “Told a lot of weird stories about ancient times. He could fight, though, so I let him stick around.”

I object to this highly subjective interpretation of our early relationship.

“I don’t know too many old guys with swords.” Luis shot me a quick, boyish grin.

“Neither did I before I met him. Beats me how he got it,” I said. “That’s a question you’d have to ask him, and he’s long gone now.”

Also untrue. You are filling this young warrior’s head with utter falsehoods, Victoria. Allow me to speak to him.

I grinned and ignored Marcus’s request.

Luis chuckled. “It looks like it can do some pretty cool, freaky stuff though, huh?”

“Yeah, if I’m having a good day.” That much wasn’t a lie. “It’s gotten me through a lot, I’ll tell you that much. The sword and my team. I kind of need them both.”

The kid grew reticent again for a few minutes, chewing idly on the edges of his nails. “I guess your team includes that suit who dug into me back there. I’m surprised he didn’t grill me about my damn family tree.”

“Deacon?” I smiled and shook my head. “Don’t let him get to you. He’s simply trying to make sure we all stay safe. Believe it or not, we haven’t met too many other people who packed much heat as you. I believe you’re an asset a hundred percent, but we can never be too careful.”

“He talks like he got a badge.”

“He’s FBI,” I said.

“Shit. Shit, man! That’s all I need, to get wrapped up with a spook.” Luis made a disappointed sound. “Figures he’s a cop. I’ve never met one who didn’t have it out for me.”

“Hey, c’mon.” I shot him a sidelong look. “I’m not trying to diminish your experiences here, but Deacon’s not a bad guy. He wasn’t asking questions because he’s in law enforcement. He wanted to know who you were and where you got that rifle before you got in the truck with one of us.”

Luis was unconvinced. “Yeah, sure. You say that ʼcause he’s nice to you, but I know they’re all the same, deep down. Got no empathy for anyone. No sympathy, either.” He sighed. “Do me a favor and watch my back, okay?”

“You watch mine, and you got yourself a deal.”

The quiet returned after he tried his hand at the radio, with similarly disappointing results. He chewed on his stubby nails and watched the countryside glide by. Autumn was out in full force, radiant and bright under the dome of an eggshell sky. The highway stretched out empty before us. Every now and then, crashed or abandoned cars marred the perfect loneliness. Barns and empty hay fields dotted the horizon.

“What do you think is gonna happen now?” Luis finally broke the silence with another question. This one was tense, betraying more than a hint of anxiety. Not that I could blame him.

“I don’t know.” In the face of heavier subjects, I decided to move back to total honesty. “But I can tell you the war is between humans and gods now. No more of this human versus human shit we’ve been doing. There’s no time for it. The lines have been redrawn. Every stupid thing that used to divide humanity is meaningless.”

“No.” Luis vehemently shook his head. “Doesn’t matter if the planet cracks in half tomorrow. People will fight each other all the way down to hell, you know? Those lines are permanent because no one wants to erase them. And that means you can never trust those you don’t know, even if they are still people in a world of fucked-up things.”

“It’s sort of ironic that you walked up and volunteered to help out a group of total strangers, then,” I said, smiling slightly.

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” he responded. “Also, she can help me get my hands on some damn food. I’m starving out here.”

I caught his eye in the rearview mirror, and we both cracked up. He was sort of shy at first, but soon, a belly laugh emerged and he held his stomach in the seat, his shoulders shaking. That was the moment I decided he was good for real, someone worth having on my side for as long as he would stay. Sure, he was a kid, and sure, he had some learning left to do, but I could tell how smart he was, how much he’d already learned about the roughness of the world back when it was still in one piece.

Plus, he looked so young when he laughed like that with all the gravity gone from his face. If nothing else, I wanted to try and protect those fleeting shreds of youth. It felt like the very least I could do.

Chapter Nine

The first exit sign marked with food, gas, and hotel logos took us to a stretch of country road that was as deserted as the highway we’d left. Whoever had once lived in the area had scattered to the four winds. I hoped they’d found someplace safe.

The roads out there had seen better days, even before the gods invaded the world. The potholes pitting the street would never get fixed now. The route led to an abandoned town—a real ghost town. We weren’t anywhere near the West, but I half expected a tumbleweed to drift in front of the truck.

Luis stirred to life, pointing through the windshield at a neon sign two intersections ahead. “Hey, check that out up there. Looks like we’re in the bustling heart of downtown.”

He was joking about the handful of faded storefronts lining the town’s main street. It was a far cry from the towering buildings in Manhattan, but this had probably been the local hot spot back when there were still locals to fill the sidewalks.

With only a few stores, our choice of supplies would be limited. On the plus side, the town was so small, no one else had bothered to come through and scavenge the place.

“Cross your fingers that we find a parking space,” I said.

Luis glanced around the empty streets and laughed. “Yeah, I guess the apocalypse has its perks.”

I grinned. “What can I say? I’m a silver lining kind of girl.”

The traffic light was still working, and I stopped as it turned red.

He shot me a look. “I guess you really are optimistic if you think there’s still anyone around to stop for.”

I shrugged. “You never know. Looks can be deceiving, kid.”

“You can call me Luis,” he said. “I stopped being a kid once I shot my first centaur.”

I laughed. “Okay, then you can call me Vic.”

I pulled up alongside what looked to be a grocery store, and we spent a minute or two peering through the front windows, scoping it out. Nothing appeared to be broken at the outset—a decent sign.

I killed the engine without bothering to pull into the parking lot on the side. Then I hopped down to size things up. A stiff wind kicked up whirls of dust along the barren street, knocking the flickering street light back and forth on its wire. The two narrow lanes were littered with general debris—plastic bags, crumpled paper, bottles, and cans from abandoned receptacles. A shopping cart skittered across the lot and bumped the curb. Luis whipped around at the sound of a bark. He watched the stray dog slink by. It was skinny, with large, wary eyes.

“You thinking of adopting that little guy?” I asked.

Luis rubbed the back of his neck, pulling at his kerchief. “I was wondering who looks hungrier. Me or the dog.”

“With any luck, we’ll find some food in here,” I said.

His dark eyes scanned the surroundings, and then he took a deep breath. “Yeah, I hope so. I’d hate to have to find out what dog meat tastes like.”

I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “Ugh, please don’t ever say anything like that again. I’ll give you my rations before I let you eat someone’s pet.”

This young man is possessed of a true warrior’s mind, Marcus declared proudly. He is meant for greatness.

I rolled my eyes. Spoken like a guy who once attempted to eat my cat on sight.

The rumble of another engine cut through the silence, and I saw Deacon and Jules approach. They looked around uneasily as they rolled up. Their truck eased to a halt behind ours, and the agent whistled as he stepped out. The car doors slamming echoed in the empty streets.

She walked around the tailgate. “This place is too spooky. It feels like the world ended while we were driving and we’re only now finding out.”

I patted her shoulder. “You’re simply a big city girl. Anything less than a thousand people on the sidewalk, and you think the place is abandoned.”

She shook her head. “I’m pretty glad there’s no one else around. Running into a bunch of gun-toting locals sounds like a bad way to start the day.”

Deacon nodded. “Yeah, we’re a little exposed out here. Who knows if there’s anyone watching? Let’s grab what we need and blow this joint.” He took stock of the other stores along the road. “There’s a hardware place and an outdoor supply store over there. Bet we can find some good camping gear. More tents, coolers, portable stoves, that kind of thing.”

“Good idea,” Jules said quickly. “I’ll come with you. Vic, you two can handle groceries, right?”

I nodded. “But if I find a bag of Doritos, I can’t promise it’ll make it back to the truck.”

“Dibs on any bear claws,” Luis said.

Deacon rolled his eyes. “Maybe you two should be on hardware duty.”

I shook my head. “No takebacks. I promise we’ll save some treats for everyone else.”

Deacon and Jules set off across the intersection, leaving Luis and me to our task. The automatic doors at the front of the store still worked, and so did the fluorescent lights overhead. Each of us grabbed a cart on our way through the entrance.

“All right,” I said. “We need stuff that’ll keep for as long as possible. That means cans, dry food, cereal, pasta. Maybe some candy for the kids.”

He grinned at me. “Yeah, right. For the kids.”

I laughed. “Well, mostly for the kids. What can I say? I fight better when I’m all hopped up on sugar. But seriously, we should try to stay away from anything that doesn’t have nutritional value as a rule of thumb. I’ll be damned if I get fucking scurvy without getting to be a pirate first.”

Luis nodded. “Aye aye, captain. We splitting up or doing this together?”

I thought of the pharmacy and how the satyrs had all been clustered in the back. “Let’s go together. I might be paranoid, but we don’t know what’s in here yet.”

“Paranoid is good, considering the shit we’ve seen.”

All I heard was the faint hum of the standing freezers, but I knew better than to be lulled into a false sense of security.

We walked down the aisles side by side, a weird little almost-family on a shopping trip at the end of the world. Luis eyed the shelves for anything we could use. “Hey, Vic.”

“What’s up?” I asked. “You hear something?”

“No. I wanted to ask you, where’d you really get that sword?”

The question gave me pause. “What do you mean? I told you about it in the car, didn’t I?”

“Come on.” He gave me a knowing grin. “You got it from a friend who happens to be gone? That’s what I told my grandma when she found a pack of cigarettes in my dresser. They’re not mine. They’re a friend’s.”

“It’s true,” I insisted. A bewildered laugh issued from me. I hadn’t really expected him to challenge my version of the story, though now that I thought about it, maybe it did sound a little suspect. “What do you want me to say?”

“Tell me for real,” he said. “Where’d you find it? You want to build trust here, right? Well, you can trust me.” There was a definite glint of mischief in his eye, but also an open earnestness that made me want to play along, even if I thought he was being ridiculous.

I do not take back my previous compliments of his character. However, I see this boy is not yet free from the insolence of youth.

I found myself inclined to agree. “Fine, I’ll bite. A two-thousand-year-old Roman centurion fell from the sky like a meteor and handed me the mystical sword of the God-King Kronin.”

Luis laughed and shook his head. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t find it; it found me. How’s that?”

“It found you, huh?” He smiled slyly. “That cop find you, too?”

I frowned sternly at him. “Were you listening in the truck at all? I told you, Deacon’s FBI. Why do you want to know, anyway?” The embarrassment growing in my chest made me incredibly uncomfortable. It was like our roles had been reversed. I was the kid now, teased by a parent about the guy I was definitely not interested in dating.

Luis chuckled. “You think I don’t see the way you look at each other? Seems pretty obvious to me.” He hesitated. “Listen, I know you see me as like, a teenager or whatever—”

“You are a teenager.”

“—but if you’re waiting around to do something about it, don’t. I learned that shit from experience. You’re gonna regret it later, a hundred percent.”

Ah. The wisdom of the young prevails.

I bit my tongue to keep from responding automatically to Marcus. Instead, I pushed my cart faster as I dumped toothpaste and mouthwash onto the heap already in the basket. “Noted. Let’s keep moving, shall we?”

“Right. Don’t want to keep him waiting.”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t make me leave you here.”

The rest of the shopping trip went surprisingly well. We didn’t run into any satyrs or bandits out of a Mad Max movie. The shelves were full of suitable food, and we loaded our carts until they were hard to maneuver.

We left the market as Deacon and Jules started to load up the bed of their truck. I saw guns, boxes of ammo, coats, boots, and sleeping bags. Nowhere near enough for a hundred people, but every little bit would help. The piles of provisions in our shopping carts felt like a mountain, but realistically, it would only last a week or so. I’d grabbed all the over-the-counter meds I could find, hoping it would be enough to last us until we found our next ghost town to scavenge.

Deacon tossed me a bundle of bungee cords as soon as I got close enough. “Keep these handy,” he said. “In case we happen to accumulate anything while we’ve still got the trucks. I don’t want to limit space with a cover for the beds, but it’d be nice to be able to secure things somehow.”

“Good thinking.” We spent the next twenty minutes or so packing the food away, shoving in coolers full of ice and the few perishable items, and filling every available space with cans and bags of trail mix and jerky. When we were done, I stood back to admire the stuffed truck, its doors and tailgate still open.

“It’s not enough,” I said out loud.

“It’ll have to do.” Jules squeezed my shoulder. “Don’t be hard on yourself, Vic. We’re doing the best we can.”

“There could be more if we keep looking,” Luis suggested. “This town doesn’t look that small.”

Deacon nodded. “I was going to say the same thing. Couldn’t hurt to investigate. We’ll take point this time if you want.”

“Be my guest,” I said.

The four of us got back in our respective trucks. I waited for them to pull around us, and our miniature caravan got underway. More dust rose from beneath the treads of our heavy tires amid the crunch and crackle of the junk in the street.

Luis shook his head. “Man, this really isn’t right.”

“Hm?” I glanced at him, half thinking he was still hung up on Deacon and me.

He gestured to the empty town in front of us. “All this nothing. It doesn’t make sense. I guarantee you there were people holed up in practically every building we passed in New York. No one I know would’ve been down to simply leave unless someone forced them to. We’re used to defending our shit, even if it kills us. We don’t up and split like this.”

“Could be a lot of dead,” I said. The statement was too casual, and it didn’t even really faze either of us. Our reality operated on a whole new set of parameters.

“Nah. We would’ve seen ʼem by now. Or at least there would’ve been blood.” He rolled the window down and leaned out into the wind. “No rotting corpse smell, either.” Luis sat back in the seat, troubled. “And if people left, that store should have been looted to hell. All those stores. That’s the first thing that happens in a situation like this. Hell, any time a hurricane rolls through, people clean that shit out.”

The young soldier’s insight is powerful. It might behoove you to heed his words.

I agreed, and I felt strangely impressed that he had the presence of mind to give voice to the unease we’d all experienced upon arrival. There wasn’t enough evidence that chaos had ensued before we got there, unlike the hamlet that was destroyed in Washington. It was more like this whole community had simply evaporated.

Again, Rocca crossed my mind and how she’d recruited humans, and not without success. I sat up a little straighter behind the wheel and kept my eyes peeled. “Don’t let your guard down,” I told my companion.

“I never do,” he said.

A strip mall came into view up ahead, featuring the broad sign of a drug store in the middle. Deacon’s brake lights went on, and he turned into the long, narrow lot. I noticed he put the hazards on by force of habit before jumping out. That little detail made me smile. “Looks like you were right,” I told Luis as we followed suit.

He was a lot more cautious there as if he worried that voicing his concerns aloud had jinxed us. Standing in that open lot did make me feel a little too vulnerable. Jules and Deacon clearly felt it too, judging by the way their heads never stopped turning.

“Where is everyone?” she asked. “I know everything is terrible, but I can’t shake the feeling that we ought to have seen at least one person by now.”

“We were just talking about that,” I said. “Something’s fishy.”

“Wait!” Her head snapped to a flash of movement along the side of the building. “I think I saw someone moving.” Her eyes were laser-focused on the spot.

“There was a dog earlier,” I said, but she had already moved away from us, commanded by her desire to help. I trailed behind her, my hand on the sword. The shadow of movement passed again, then emerged from around the corner.

As it turned out, I saw it was a person. The man stared at us for a moment, his eyes glazed and unseeing. Something about his demeanor put me off, and Jules, too. She stopped in her tracks and glanced back at me. Then she said, “Sir, do you need help?”

He didn’t answer. A deathly pallor colored his skin, different from the grimy gray of the vamps. It struck a chord of familiarity in me that didn’t truly hit home until he started moving forward. The shuffling, hitching gait was unmistakable. His lower jaw wobbled, uncannily slack.

“Oh, shit! That’s a fucking zombie!”

Chapter Ten

This is inaccurate nomenclature, Victoria. He is almost certainly in the thrall of an as yet unseen master, but this unfortunate man is not a zombie, as you say.

“How the hell not?” I demanded, forgetting at the moment that Marcus’s voice was only in my head. “Look at him. That’s seventy-five percent of modern horror movies right there.”

Jules and I both backpedaled, and Deacon and Luis caught up.

He looks the part, but he is not strictly dead. Lawless or not, Forgotten terminology does have rules.

“I used to have friends who said they were prepping for this day,” Luis remarked with grim amusement. “And I used to laugh at them. Guess I should’ve taken notes instead.” Without further ado, he raised his hunting rifle, steadied the iron sights, and fired a single shot. The bullet pierced the zombie through the top of his head, which flopped back on a nonresistant neck. The zombie staggered, almost fell, and righted himself at the last instant. A thin stream of blood trickled from the hole in his cranium. “Damn. I thought that was supposed to drop ʼem.”

Far from immobilized, the zombie remained on track, its footfalls slow but unwavering. That was when I noticed others stirring inside the windows of the mall suites, shuffling up to the glass. “I think I know where everybody went,” I said.

“Oh, my God.” Jules gripped her handgun so tightly, her knuckles were white. “They’re all converted. All of them.”

“Must be a god,” Deacon added. “Now, we have to find that son of a bitch.”

The doors to the drugstore slid open as soon as he finished speaking, revealing yet another shadowy form. Taller than the others, long-limbed and impossibly thin, this one cut a distinctly inhuman silhouette against the harsh lighting inside the building. I picked out gaunt, sunken features, eyes that were sparks in pools of darkness, and a lipless mouth. Its motions were almost too fluid as if the laws of physics didn’t apply.

“Yep,” I muttered. “It’s a god, all right. A goddamn zombie god. Marcus, anything I need to know?”

This one has a frightening visage, but his power falls far below that of even Rocca and Beleza. He draws his strength from spawning hordes such as the one you are about to encounter.

“Name?” I asked. A sharp crack pierced the air, followed by the noise of glass shards raining into the lot. “No, scratch that. I don’t give a shit.” I brought the blade out. “Whatever his name is, he’ll be as dead as the Roman empire soon. Shit. Sorry, Marcus. Too soon?”

I have had two millennia to come to terms with my former homeland’s fall. Just focus on not meeting the same fate in this parking lot.

“Good call.” I instructed my team, “Focus on the horde. I’ll go after the boss man here.”

Luis’s rifle popped off. “On it, chief.”

I nodded and set my sights on the walking skeleton approaching. He didn’t seem to be in too much of a hurry, but as the gap between us closed, his mouth widened into a hideous, leering grin. The contours of his skull stood out starkly beneath his skin. He spoke with the rotted stump of a tongue.

“It appears the god-killer rumors are true. For that, I must salute you.” The smile widened even more, splitting the corners of his mouth. His voice was at once dry and moldy, a repulsive, hoarse warble. “You are the reason a path has been cleared for riffraff such as I, long scorned by the more powerful among my brethren, to claim a slice of this cursed world as it plummets into oblivion. I thank you sincerely. It is almost a shame that you should meet your death, but”—he chuckled, and a chill raced down my spine—“you are a human, after all.”

“So were they,” I retorted, indicating the minions who pressed on stubbornly under triple gunfire. A small contingent of them had peeled off toward me, their arms hanging as they dragged their feet. “There’s no forgiving what you’ve done here.”

“Well,” the god replied. “Thank goodness I never asked.” The white gleam in his eyes intensified until it swallowed the darkness inside the sockets, and a beam arced toward me. The energy itself seemed to be infected with sickness. It was flecked with gangrenous black spots. The path it traveled carved a channel in the pavement, which gave rise to a powerful smell of decay.

I leapt to the side and dashed forward into range. The god, still nameless, stretched away to the very end of my reach, that grinning face still taunting me. With the very tip of the Gladius Solis, I fished for a shred of the clothes hanging off the emaciated frame, but they dangled beyond reach. One thin hand snaked up and latched around my wrist, encircling my skin with bone-chilling cold.

“You could join them,” said the zombie god. “It would be simple. A trivial thing. All you have to do is succumb.”

“Why don’t you suck cum, you undead pervert?” I jerked my arm free so forcefully that the top knuckle of one of his fingers snapped. It knit itself together almost immediately. “Kiss my ass, Jolly Roger.” The sword flashed forward, and this time, it perforated his chest area, tearing a hole in the ruined garments. I caught a brief glimpse of something black and pulsing like a tumor in his paper-white chest.

That is his heart. Piercing it should destroy him.

Simple enough. I repositioned for another attack, only for the god to fade back toward the drugstore as his self-made horde flooded between us. The zombies were still brutally slow, but they were strong, too, and the first one I met swept me into an unrelenting bear hug. Although I managed to keep my hold on the Gladius Solis, it was pinned by my side. The blade burned disturbingly close to my flesh, which I quickly realized was still as fragile as anyone else’s.

“Hey!” I kicked viciously, forcing my knee up into my assailant’s generous gut. He buckled only slightly. His arms were viselike around my torso, and they felt like tree trunks. More hands began to pull at me, seeking hungrily to drag me into their mass. Desperate to avoid falling into their clutches even more than I already had, I wrenched my arm up as far as it would go. The sword hopped clumsily into the air. I snatched it on the descent and stuck it straight in the big guy’s back until its warmth radiated through him into my ribs. His dead eyes widened, and he dropped me as the sword burst clean through him.

I grabbed it, swung it in the ever-reliable circle to clear some personal space, and plowed through the mindless throng in search of its master. I thought I could see him ahead, a gangly specter gliding on the wind, but there were too many bodies in the way. The gunshots behind me were steady but too slow and too few to abate the wave still flowing out of the mall.

“Dammit!” A large part of me really, really wanted to hunt the god down and put an end to him. I could have, but the ordeal was turning into more effort than it was worth. It wouldn’t bring back those my companions had already killed if it brought the others back at all. I released a frustrated growl and turned to cut my way toward the trucks. The tide of zombies gradually appeared to recede a bit. They were probably following the master. “Retreat!” I yelled. “It’s not worth it!”

“Where’d he go?” Deacon asked. He had also backed up to the trucks, and he and Jules covered Luis.

“I lost him,” I said. “We have a whole camp to think about. There are too many of the others. We’ve got to get out while we can.”

“All right.” Deacon lowered his gun. “Luis! Let’s bail! Andale!”

“That’s racist, pig,” the youngster said with a grin. He bolted to the truck in a flash. I was peeling out of the lot by the time he slammed the door. The horde crushed around us, pounding on the windows, but the engine’s horsepower outstripped them quickly. All I saw in the rearview mirror was a mosaic of blank faces. Without a target, it didn’t take them long to slow to a stop.

“How are you holding up?” I asked my passenger. “Things got pretty hairy there.”

“Eh.” He cracked a boyish grin. “This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with shit like that.”

I tried to process his statement, and it finally clicked. “Oh, because you grew up on the mean streets of Harlem?”

He snorted a laugh. “No, dick. Because I played a shitload of video games. You know how many zombies I’ve killed in games before? Way more than this. It was like some level one shit. No problem.”

Heat warmed my cheeks. “Oh, right. Sorry. It’s just that you said earlier—”

“Yeah, dude, it was a fucking dog eat dog world in Harlem. I’m not gonna lie. And it’s the same out here now. And the same rules apply. Do what you can to survive or die.”

“That sounds rough,” I said.

He shrugged. “Yeah, well, you gotta roll with the punches. Like we’re all doing now. I’ve had a little more practice, that’s all.”

“I had some practice with that too,” I said. “Before all this shit started.”

Luis nodded. “It’s crazy, right? Who would have thought that all the hard times we went through actually made us stronger? I mean, I’m almost grateful for all that trouble now. It’s probably the only reason I’m still alive. Still sane.”

“I never thought of it that way. Maybe you’re right.”

I grinned and sat in silence for a while as we left the zombie town behind us. The kid’s perspective changed the way I thought about the hardships I’d faced over the last several years. If I could go back and change it, I absolutely would, but it had prepared me for this. I wasn’t afraid to face trouble down whenever it found me. That was some kind of blessing in disguise, I supposed.

“You got family back with the group?” Luis asked.

I shook my head. “My parents aren’t around anymore. It was tough for a while, but I’ve made my peace. What about you? You mentioned your grandmother before.”

“Yeah.” He looked straight ahead at the featureless road. “She didn’t make it.”

Immediately sorry for asking, I tried to make amends. “I’m sorry, Luis.”

“I thought I was too, and I still am because I loved her. And I miss her. She was like a mom to me, you know? I would’ve given her the whole damn world if I could. But then I try to imagine her going through this with me, freezing and starving in the woods. I don’t think I could have taken it.” He rubbed his jaw. “She sacrificed herself for me. Said she’d only slow me down because she was too old to move fast enough.” He patted his chest. “The last thing she gave me was her rosary. That was right before I left. She put it in my hand and told me she’d lived a good life and not to waste mine.” He laughed a little. “‘Remember to love God, Luis, and love your neighbor almost as much.’ Only she could’ve talked about loving God when the whole fucking world was ending.”

“I’ve never met a god I could love,” I said. “And I’ve met a lot of them.”

“She could have,” the kid said, smiling gently. “She would’ve found a way. Unless they tried to tell her that hers didn’t exist. Then there’d be trouble.” He laughed again. “Man, I loved that lady. I hope she’s safe and happy, wherever she is.”

“Of course, she is,” I said. “Because she can see you, and I know she’s damn proud of you.”

Luis smiled and nodded. “I sure hope so.”

Our caravan crawled through the woods after turning off the highway, following a roughly beaten track forged mostly by the might of the trucks. The camp materialized in a gap between the trees leading into the clearing, but before we even got there, a bulky shape plunged toward the trucks, waving short, stocky arms.

“Is that Frank?” I narrowed my eyes. “Dammit. That’s Frank.”

“He doesn’t look too happy to see us,” Luis observed. The mobster’s eyes bulged almost out of his head, and he was paler than usual. I lowered my window, and he barreled up to it, wheezing.

“What’s with you?” My eyes flicked to the clearing path. “You’re not in trouble, are you?”

He gave me sort of a wounded look, wiped the sweat from his brow, and spit into the leaves. “You better come quick. They found another body.”

Chapter Eleven

A truck door slammed behind me. A moment later, Deacon appeared beside Frank. “What’s going on?” he asked, glancing between the vampire mobster and me.

The man seemed to shrink a little in the agent’s presence. “There’s another body,” he repeated, hanging his head. “People are really starting to get wind of this stuff. I think it’s put ʼem all on edge.”

“Can’t say I blame them,” I said. “Deacon, can you go check it out? I want to drop in on our resident militia and see how they’re doing. Something tells me we’ll want them ready sooner rather than later.”

“Sure.” The agent turned to Frank. “Lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

The two of them headed toward camp, and I stuck my head back into the truck cab to talk to Luis. “Can you start moving these supplies in? Jules will help.”

He nodded. “Aye aye, captain.”

“Thanks, man,” I said.

Jules gave me a thumbs-up on her way past, and I took off at a brisk jog toward the modest encampment where Dan housed his men. Some rowdiness was to be expected in a soldiers’ camp, but my heart sank when I heard only vitriolic arguing from the other side of the tents.

“You don’t get it,” Dan said, his patience undercut by a hefty dose of exasperation. “Send these guys in to fight in melee range, and you’re sending them in to die. This sets us up for needless casualties. I don’t see what’s so hard to understand about that.”

Brax’s answering laugh was harsh and mirthless. “Are your men too weak to fight their foes face to face? You would rather have your men fall back like cowards, unprepared for the inevitable ambush? Don’t come crawling to me after the enemy rushes in and rips them limb from limb.”

The soldier heaved a deep, long-suffering sigh. “Vic must have a real good reason to trust you because you’ve got some serious fucking problems, my friend. I believe we’re on the same side here, but you’ve got to trust me, too. Range is always the better option as long as you have guns. We don’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell if they get to us, no matter what you think you can teach these people.”

“As always, your kind underestimates me,” the demon replied. “And as always, you’re wrong. I hate to admit it, but the gods are too smart for your sneaky sniper bullshit. They’ll close the distance the second they spot you, and they will spot you. Then it’s a clusterfuck of friendly fire until everyone’s dead. The end.”

Suppressing a groan, I turned on my heel and got out of there. Clearly, things weren’t going well on the militia front, and I wouldn’t do much good if I turned up without some way for them to make peace. Luckily, I thought I had something—or a few things—that might do the trick.

“What’s up, Vic?” Jules was coming back for another load as I reached the second truck. “Need something?”

“The troops are bickering,” I told her, hopping up onto the open tailgate to find what I needed. “I’ll get my head chewed off if I don’t bring in an olive branch.” The guns and ammo from the outdoor supply store went into a crate, which I then hefted down from the truck bed. Hooray, nectar strength. “I hope these new toys will settle those children down.”

Jules pursed her lips. “Make sure they don’t play too rough with them.” She picked up another armful of groceries. “When you’re done over there, I think they want to see you at the murder scene. I heard someone asking for you.”

“And here I thought the zombie attack would be the worst part of my day.” Lifting the crate to my shoulder, I set off toward Dan’s encampment again. “Let them know I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

When I reached the front of the wall of dirty canvas tents, the disagreement between the soldiers was no longer verbal, but it wasn’t over, either. Tension sizzled in the air as the two adversaries stood on opposite ends of the camp with their backs to each other. The demon had his arms folded across his chest. Dan’s head was practically in his hands.

Obviously, things were going well.

“Am I interrupting a brooding contest?” I asked half-jokingly. “Let me know if now’s a bad time.”

Brax grunted but didn’t even turn around. The soldier lifted his head and struggled to force his facial expression into something other than extreme irritation. “Good to see you, Vic,” he muttered. “We’re…working on it.”

At that, his partner in conflict scoffed. “No, we’re not. We’d be working on it if this guy would get his head out of his asshole.”

Dan bristled, his fingers curling halfway to fists. He closed his eyes, and I could almost hear him counting to ten. “My head is right where it’s supposed to be. Thinking strategically. And I’d love to meet you halfway. I really would. But you’re not listening to reason.” The man gave me a beseeching look. “Help me out here, Vic. Hand-to-hand combat would be insanity. Like throwing lambs to the slaughter.” He shook his head. “There are only about thirty volunteers, to begin with, tops. I can’t expect them to get in close and survive.”

“Even a small contingent has the potential to be mighty if it is suitably trained,” Brax retorted. “But thirty inexperienced gunmen taking potshots into a raging horde is asking to have our asses whooped. The gods won’t even think about slowing down. Close quarters combat is inevitable.” He kept his back to us as he talked. To him, the conversation was already over.

“I’m not picking sides,” I told them firmly. “You two are the best we’ve got in this department. I’m trusting you to make this decision for the good of the group. Everyone depends on us to come up with a stable defense solution, and I need you to figure your shit out soon. Stop fighting each other and worry about fighting the damn Forgotten. Understood?”

Dan saluted resolutely. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll do my best to find some common ground.”

“Hear that, Brax?” I asked. “Trust me. I know it’s not exactly your strong suit, but cooperation is the name of the game. The only way we’ll make it through the apocalypse is by working together. The militia won’t follow you if you aren’t united. We have to make this work.” I walked between them and set down my box of arms with a decisive thump. “I brought you some new toys to get you started.”

“I take it the supply run was a success?” Dan asked.

“As successful as anything these days.” The memory of the gaunt, nameless god surfaced in my head. I doubted telling him about the zombie horde would lift his spirits, so I didn’t mention it. “The bad guys are still in motion out there. They won’t wait for us to be ready for the next attack. We have to scramble.”

“Agreed,” he replied.

Somewhat grudgingly, Brax moved to the weapons crate and began to poke through its contents. “Not bad,” he allowed finally. “I can make this work.”

“You and me both,” Dan interjected. Although the demon remained thoroughly unimpressed, he did not lash out, which I took as a sign of improvement. I sidled in the direction of the main camp. “And that’s my cue to beat it. I’m counting on both of you.”

It took all my self-restraint not to simply turn and run the hell out of there. I had enough bullshit in my life without getting involved in theirs. Brax wasn’t the only one adjusting to being part of a team.

It is unrealistic to expect better from the Marked, Marcus remarked dourly. The demon is a petty, contradictory figure. He knows nothing of leadership or teamwork.

“We’re all learning new skills,” I said, angling toward the central teepee. “It’s sink or swim now. Either they work it out, or we’re screwed, and as much as they hate each other, neither of them wants to lose. Or die.”

Perhaps a modicum of the soldier’s integrity will rub off on Abraxzael. I confess, my hopes are not high.

“You know,” I said. “You do have at least one thing in common with him.”

Perish the thought. I demand to know where such commonality lies.

I smirked. “You both talk a whole lot of shit.”

Chapter Twelve

As I reached the teepee, with Marcus blustering indignantly in my ear, Deacon emerged from the nearby woods. He made an immediate beeline for me.

“You’ll want to see this for yourself,” he said the moment he came within earshot. I tuned Marcus out and fell into step beside him. He seemed like he had something else to say, and after a minute of thoughtful silence, he turned to me. “Find out what that kid’s deal is?”

“Luis? Yeah, we talked in the car. He’s good. I think he’s trustworthy. He’s tough too, and he’s keeping an eye on you.”

The man looked surprised and slightly affronted. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing to keep an eye on.”

I shrugged. “He doesn’t like that you’re a cop. And I think he caught you checking out my ass once or twice.”

Deacon protested. “I’m not a cop!”

Holding my hands up, I said, “Don’t look at me. I told him that. It didn’t seem to matter much.” I paused. The smirk from before crept back onto my lips. “What about the part where you were checking out my ass?”

He coughed. “I plead the Fifth.”

“Afraid of self-incrimination, huh?” Still smiling, I pulled ahead of him. The river babbled beyond the next curtain of trees, offset by a few hushed voices. I saw the outline of the body before we emerged onto the bank. A sense of foreboding gathered in the pit of my stomach. It only intensified when I drew close enough to view the corpse’s face and see that whoever this person had been, they were nearly unrecognizable now.

The small cluster of onlookers migrated away from me as I stared down at the second victim. Deacon directed them toward the settlement, and their reluctant footsteps rustled into the distance. Then he was at my side, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, taking in the ghastly sight for the second time.

“Looks like the same killer to me,” I mused out loud, mostly to myself.

The upper torso was speckled with deep, bloodless puncture wounds that had left the skin waxy and paper white—at least, the parts of it that weren’t mottled by vicious bruising. It was all too maddeningly familiar, including the marks on either side of the throat.

“Manual strangulation,” I mumbled. “Again.”

“Yeah.” Deacon exhaled slowly. “You know what this means. We’re dealing with a serial killer.”

Long blonde hair sprouted above the victim’s pale, bloodless face. I searched my memory for the poor woman’s identity, but I came up empty. She was merely one person among the hundreds I’d seen on my way out of New York. I felt bad for not knowing, but maybe it was better that way. Easier.

“Zombie gods and serial killers,” I said. “And people used to think that New York was dangerous.” I shook my head. “Okay, do we have any idea who’s behind this godawful scene?”

“It’s definitely a god, right?” Deacon asked. “It has to be. We’ve never seen anything like this before.”

I nodded, observing the punctures one more time. “If not a god, at least a Forgotten. Something we haven’t run into before. What pisses me off is we don’t know where it’s coming from or how it’s getting so close. You’d think we would have seen some sign of a god by now.” My thoughts flew instantly to Tahn with her serpent’s fangs and flickering tongue, but the brutality of the killing didn’t seem like her style. She had been cunning, wily, and dangerous in her intelligence. She had not been a vessel of such barbaric force.

This is not the work of Tahn, Marcus confirmed. She would never kill so sloppily.

I crossed the serpent goddess off my mental list. Beleza was the only other god I’d encountered recently, but he was almost certainly still in the city. That bronze prick craved worship, and for that, he needed people around. Plus, the bruises on the victim’s neck were of normal proportions.

“Could be someone in the camp,” Deacon theorized. “Someone like a vamp or Were hiding their monstrous nature behind a normal human exterior.”

I frowned. “A wolf in sheep’s clothing, so to speak. While we’re looking for an outside threat, the killer strikes from inside the camp.”

“That would explain how it’s happened twice on our watch,” he said. His face darkened.

I sighed. “So, the best-case scenario is that some shitty monster we can find and kill is prowling the woods? The worst-case scenario is a killer hiding among us.”

Deacon chuckled grimly. “Pretty much.”

“We’ll have to keep this to ourselves for now,” I said. “If people think the killer is one of us, they’ll turn on each other left and right. We need to get out of these damn woods, pronto. I’m talking yesterday. And if the killings continue after that, we’ll have one answer, at least.”

He nodded. “True. Still, it might be worth sending out a hunting party in case it turns out to be a local pest.”

“Maybe when Maya gets back, I’ll ask her to do some more recon. If she finds something lurking around, she can take it out.” Standing close to the bank of the river, I looked into the trees, half expecting my favorite werewolf veterinarian to pop out at the sound of her name. Of course, she didn’t. “I hope she’s on her way back.”

“She’ll show up soon,” Deacon said. “That girl’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met.” He glanced down at the body. “I’ll get a shovel so we can take care of this before anyone else comes by.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep a lookout in case,” I told him. But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, rapid footsteps approached through the underbrush. I braced myself, automatically dropping my hand to the hilt of the Gladius Solis, ready for whatever was about to barrel toward us. If we were lucky, our problem was a few seconds from solving itself.

But instead of a monster or a crazed murderer, it was Jules who burst onto the riverbank. Her periwinkle eyes were wide, and her cheeks were flushed with exertion. “Come quick!” she urged, out of breath.

“Whoa.” Deacon reached out a hand to steady her. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

“It’s Frank,” she said. “Come on. They want to kill him!” She wheeled and dashed back the way she’d come. Deacon and I followed in hot pursuit.

An angry mob always had a distinct sound—a wild mess of screaming, shouting, cursing, and stomping feet. The howling mass roiled back and forth in front of the central teepee, hungry to destroy the object of their rage. Poor Frank could never catch a break. neither in life nor the afterlife.

He huddled in his shabby, dark suit jacket, trying to make his bulky frame seem as small and non-threatening as possible. The scared expression on his face was one I had seen many times before, although for once, I wasn’t the cause of his fear.

“Frank!” I shouted, diving headlong into the churning crowd. Some of them parted for me, but others required a firm shove.

All kinds of things flew around me, from fists to heavy rocks wrenched up from the damp soil. Some of the words became clearer to me as I forged a path. “It was him. He killed her. He’s one of them. He’s a fucking vamp.”

I clenched my teeth. I should have known.

“I bet he killed that other kid, too,” someone hollered close to my ear. “There were bite marks, weren’t there? Who else coulda done it but him?”

The question was met with a chorus of enraged, bloodthirsty affirmation and another flurry of projectiles. All that was missing from the scene were blazing torches and pitchforks. Poor old Frankie-stein wouldn’t burn tonight. Not if I could help it anyway.

I bent my head and shouldered my way through the last layer of the angry crowd. The hapless victim hunched in the eye of the storm, peering out from beneath his heavy brow. He wasn’t alone. Steph stood over him with her gun out, brandishing the firearm at anyone who got too close. In the couple of seconds it took for me to absorb the whole scene, I saw her trigger finger twitch at least twice.

Desperate to avoid a potentially fatal confrontation, I stuck my fingers in my mouth and let fly with the shrillest, most piercing whistle I could muster. “What the hell is going on here?” I demanded. “Everybody shut the fuck up.” I took position beside Steph, guarding Frank with my body. “Somebody start explaining before I lose my shit.”

My harsh words brought the crowd’s roar down to a dull murmur. A huge, bulging dude in a ripped-up muscle shirt and faded jeans stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Frank’s face.

“I’ll tell you what’s going on,” he spat, sneering. “Freaks like him aren’t welcome here. None of us are safe with him around. Let’s kill them all.” He turned to the crowd for validation, raising his hands like a rock star hyping up the audience.

The cheering stopped when I decked him in the jaw.

He sprawled on his ass in the mud. I faced the crowd, which had suddenly gone deathly silent. The people in front glanced continually between me and my sword, which I hadn’t needed to draw yet.

“Do you trust me?” I asked. My question was met with silence. “Anyone who doesn’t trust me, come up here and tell me right now.” No one moved. “Okay, good. Now that we’ve established that, let me make one thing clear. Frank is not your enemy. He is not a freak, and he’s not the bad guy here. In fact, he’s one of the only reasons we’re all standing here right now.”

I paused to let that sink in. Angry faces watched me from the crowd, but they remained silent for the moment. At least they were listening.

I pointed into the distance. “Our enemies are out there. And when they come howling for your blood, Frank here defends the front lines while you hide in your tents. How do you repay his courage and his selflessness? You call him a freak. You condemn him, even though he risks his life to keep you alive. Don’t forget that. We’re all in this together. At this point, that’s how we survive. We live together, or we let the gods tear us apart.”

The crowd murmured and shuffled their feet. No more rocks or punches flew, but I could see that not all of them were convinced. The violence in the air had dulled, but it hadn’t evaporated completely.

The meathead I had punched was back on his feet, scowling at me. “That’s bullshit!” he bellowed. “This bitch—”

I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him in the air. “Call me a bitch again. Say it again, and see what happens, motherfucker.”

He shook his head, and I lowered him. He glared at me from bloodshot eyes. “I’m just saying. Someday soon, your buddy is gonna lose his fat, ugly mind and rip this place apart.”

A few people voiced their assent, but most of the group watched in uneasy silence now, trying to gauge the way things would go.

I was fed up with this bro’s crap. “Did you join the militia?”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me,” I said. “We put out a call for help to defend against the attacks. Did you sign up to be a part of the militia?”

He cast his eyes to the ground. “Well, no.”

I shook my head. “How about that? You’re all piss and vinegar when attacking a defenseless man, one who puts his life on the line for you every day. But when the real enemy shows up, you’re too much of a pussy to fight? Frank’s a goddamn hero, but you? You’re just a coward.”

I turned away from the muscle-head and addressed the crowd. “I’m not asking you to fight. It’s enough that you keep going every day, surviving and helping each other. All I ask is that we stay united. Together, we’ll make it through this hell. But if you turn on the people trying to keep you safe, none of us will make it out alive.”

The mob wasn’t angry any longer. Some of them even had the decency to look ashamed.

Then a scream pierced the air, loaded with fear and pain. Muscle Shirt swiveled, caught off guard by the primal sound. The throng began to dissipate rapidly around me, and I saw, framed in the hole that had opened up, a humanoid creature with a shambling gait that I already knew. Not one, but dozens and dozens flooded from the forest. They latched quickly onto dumbfounded group members, and the screams multiplied.

“Militia, get ready,” Dan shouted. “We’re under attack!”

Chapter Thirteen

The zombie horde closed in around us. The previously still forest writhed with legions of others marching slowly but steadily. Our group, gathered as it was, made too big a target to defend, and the ravening horde fell upon us like a pack of undead hyenas.

They weren’t disorganized, though. The monsters themselves might have been as dumb as bricks, but whoever pulled their strings kept them in a tight formation, using strategy against us. The swarm swirled and thickened around us, blocking all potential escape routes.

I cursed myself for not finishing the zombie god off when I had the chance.

It felt like we had all stupidly wandered into a well-laid ambush. Whipping out my magic sword, I sliced and diced my way through the masses in an attempt to open some space for the panicked people around me.

The cracking reports of gunfire reached my ears, but it moved away as the militia crumbled in the face of the zombies’ sheer numbers. We were slowly and methodically suffocated under the relentless thumb of a god. I slashed repeatedly, piling more bodies on the muddy earth, but every kill seemed to spawn more from the dark reaches of the forest. They surged over the camp in waves like vermin.

The situation appeared bleak.

Their numbers may be great, Victoria, but you are formidable. It is written in your name. Stand tall and wield your blazing sword until the power of Kronin compels the enemy to return to the earth from whence they came.

I dragged in a huge breath and released a war cry from the depths of my lungs. The sword danced around me, sketching patterns of light with every fierce strike. I carved sweeping holes in the crush of bodies buffeting me on all sides, creating windows in which my friends battled.

Near the edge of the fight, Frank and Steph had closed ranks around a handful of helpless elderly, working together to stem the flow of the horde. She shot her sidearm when she was able, and when the zombies drew too close, she took them down with frightening speed and efficiency. I began to see why Deacon liked having her as a partner.

On the other side of that little knot, Frank bumbled his way through every encounter as though he was embroiled in one long bar fight. His swings were heavy and wild, but when they hit, they pulverized the undead like a fucking wrecking ball. He bull-rushed into a line of zombies to drive them back and buy some time.

I hoped the angry mob was watching him saving their asses instead of his own. I noticed Muscle Shirt was nowhere to be found.

The creatures’ numbers increased. Before my eyes, Frank and Steph’s holdout was about to be overrun. I could see both Deacon and Luis trying feverishly to cover for their compatriots—the agent with his pistol and the younger man with that hunting rifle. For a city kid, he wasn’t a bad shot.

Still, it wouldn’t be enough. I threw myself forward, hoping against hope that I’d be able to mow down enough undead to reach Frank and Steph in time. Then my vision became obscured by a weird haze that gradually formed itself into a tall, emaciated shape.

“There you are,” I growled, gripping my sword tighter. “Time to finish what I started.”

The god’s visage appeared, already grinning and slightly translucent. “We meet again, Swordbearer. Surely you didn’t think I could allow you to escape. Not when there was so much fun yet to be had.” The grin split his face almost in two, unhinging his jaw into a gaping, dark maw. “What a nice, vibrant soul you have. Gift it to me, and I’ll keep it safe.” A creepy giggle burbled from the back of his narrow throat. “Not that I can say when you’ll get it back, if at all.”

The laughter morphed into a keening wail as he rushed forward with surprising speed, seeking to engulf me in his mouth. I rolled to the side, cutting down a few of his minions in my way.

“It’s easy,” he whispered. “So easy. All you need to do is surrender that wonderful, beautiful soul. I promise to take exceptional care of it.” His looming white face, so thin it was nearly skeletal, was right up in mine. I smelled the weird, stale breath issuing from his jaws with every word. “Wouldn’t that be nice? No worries, no cares. You are on the brink of true oblivion. It would be a mere trifle to simply…give…in.”

The mouth yawned wide again, fringed by jagged teeth. His words sank into my mind, seductive and comforting. Maybe it would be better to give in.

Keep your wits about you, Victoria. Do not let go of the sword.

Marcus’s voice snapped me back from the threshold of the fugue state I’d stared into, and I used the fresh wave of determination to lever the Gladius Solis into that bottomless mouth. The jaws snapped shut, but I put all my weight and strength behind the hilt, driving the blade out the back of the god’s practically naked skull.

The pinpricks of light inside his deep eye sockets flared and flickered madly—then faded into nothing. The body went limp, and a few seconds later, it also dissipated into the empty air.

I didn’t stop to celebrate my triumph. Frank and Steph were almost out of sight behind the shambling figures closing in on them. I summoned every bit of nectar power available to me as I plowed through zombie after zombie. Their god might be dead, but they were still as alive as ever. Or undead. Whatever the fuck they were.

At some point, I stopped seeing anything beyond my goal. There was only Steph pistol-whipping a pair of undead into submission and Frank bludgeoning his foes with the fat end of a broken branch.

I didn’t notice the werewolf crash through the zombie swarm, and when I did, I almost used my sword on her. Then I saw the reddish tint to the fur and the slightly smaller stature. In the midst of a crazy fight, my heart leapt for joy. Were-Maya positioned herself over the huddle of elderly refugees and proceeded to clean house, batting zombies away like they were flies. Any who didn’t have the sense to turn away after she cut them off were crushed or eviscerated by her claws. She threw a great many clear out of the camp and into the woods beyond to be picked off by the remnants of the militia on their way back.

God, I loved that wolf-woman.

Frank and Steph stood in Maya’s shadow, clearly in awe of her. They stepped back as the werewolf’s frenzy drew to a close. Zombie pieces lay scattered everywhere. Were-Maya hunkered down on all fours, and she began to shrink until she was the size of a small adult human. And very naked.

“I think I love her,” the two other defenders breathed at the same time, echoing my own thoughts.

Maya ignored them, hugging herself against the cold. Veronica came running with a blanket that she draped around the veterinarian’s shoulders.

The Were fastened the covering into a makeshift toga and smiled gratefully. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Veronica answered cheerfully.

“What did I miss?” Maya asked. She gazed around at us, all wide-eyed and playing innocent.

I stepped forward, shaking my head. “Good to see you, Maya. You came in time for the good part.” She laughed, and I swore I saw Steph and Frank swooning out of the corner of my eye. “What’d you find out there? A castle? Buried treasure?”

Maya beamed with pride. “Better. I found us a haven. At least I think I did.” Her expression faltered slightly. “There might be a little catch, though.”

I grinned at her. “Better is an understatement. That’s the best thing I’ve heard in the last ten days. Catch be damned—we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” I gave her a quick hug. “Help me round up the last of these zombies, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Okay.” She brightened again. “I’ll tell you about it once I get some, uh…clothes.” She smiled sheepishly, walking ahead with Veronica toward shelter. Her two not-so-secret admirers hurried to keep her in sight.

Victoria, I must insist that these beings are not zombies. They live, therefore, they cannot be undead.

“We can discuss the finer points of zombie philosophy later,” I told him, heading out to purge the remainder of the nameless god’s army. “Whatever they are, they’ll be dead when I’m done with them.”

Marcus grumbled. I laughed, and for that instant, all was right with the world.

Chapter Fourteen

We ducked inside the teepee for our second major pow-wow in as many days. The space was a little close, but it felt good to sit back and relax out of sight of the group’s prying eyes. I was still a little sore about how easily they’d turned on Frank. The ungrateful pricks.

The post-battle atmosphere was heavy in the tent. We had taken more losses than ever before. But Maya’s good news brought some light to the shadows.

“I found another group of survivors moving west,” she told us, barely able to contain her excitement. “They were going to some military base, I think. That’s what it sounded like, anyway. They mostly called it a supposed safe zone.”

Dan perked up his ears. “Military base? Where at?”

Maya shrugged. “Somewhere in Pennsylvania. I guess there was a broadcast transmitted over the radio sometime before communications went down, and that’s how they heard about it. I’m not sure if they know exactly where it is themselves.”

“What kind of people were they?” Veronica asked. “Were they soldiers? Were they armed? Did they look like they had their shit together?”

“Nope,” Maya said, grinning. “They looked like us. Moving in a loose pack with not too much in terms of weapons. A couple of the men had shotguns, but those were the most heavy-duty things I saw. They weren’t dressed for winter, either.”

“Did you blend in well?” Jules asked. “Will they know you’re gone?”

Maya laughed. “Oh, they didn’t see me. I eavesdropped for as long as I could, and then I headed back. It seemed like too big a risk to try and associate with them on any level. I don’t know whether they would have been friendly or not.” She gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling. “They mentioned a name once or twice. Fort Sigel? Apparently, it’s extremely fortified. They heard a lot of folks were able to find shelter there.”

We all looked at Dan. He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, there is a base out that way, as far as I know. It’s sort of hidden down on the edge of the Poconos there. I don’t know much more than that, I’ll admit. It was a bit of a military secret, above my clearance level. I have no idea what kind of operations they ran in that place, but I do think it’d probably be a good place to bunk and regroup for a while.” A slight frown crossed his face. “Assuming it’s empty or hasn’t fallen into hostile hands, that is. We can’t ignore the possibility that we’d walk into a deathtrap.”

Maya winced a little, and instant regret flashed across the soldier’s face.

“It’s a slim chance,” he said quickly. “But a slim chance is still a chance. All I’m saying is that we ought to be cautious until we know what we’re dealing with.”

“I agree with that,” Deacon said. “But it’s also worth mentioning that we’re in dire need of a safe haven right now. That last assault was almost the end for us. We won’t survive another attack like that.”

Veronica nodded. “And with the second murder, morale in general is at an all-time low. Whatever we do next, it has to be something that will bolster our people and build them up for the next long stretch. I say the potential benefits outweigh the risks.”

“We need time to hone our defenses,” Brax said. He had been quiet since the fighting stopped, and now, his voice carried a peculiar note of something like sheepishness. “The showing from our civilian militia was…shameful.”

Dan grimaced. “That’s true. It would be enormously helpful to have someplace we could establish as our home base for now. Somewhere that would be relatively safe and let us build into a stronger force.”

“We will do better next time,” the demon declared tersely. “It is non-negotiable.” He and Dan locked eyes briefly, and I couldn’t tell if they were resigned to teamwork or if they hated each other more than ever.

“Good,” I said slowly, hoping to defuse the situation. “But don’t be too hard on yourselves, okay? Any of you. This last battle was a ton for any one person to handle, and we would probably all have been screwed if not for Maya coming to save our asses. In that respect, we’re all in the same boat.”

Even Brax smiled at that.

“Ain’t that the truth?” Steph chuckled. She pulled a small hip flask off her belt and raised it. “To Maya!”

We echoed the toast without drinks in our hands. “To Maya!”

“Thank you for not letting us drown in zombies,” I said. “That was very considerate of you.”

She turned red. “Oh, you guys. I only did what I always want to do when I’m a werewolf. I wrecked shit. I’ve come to terms with it. In a way, it’s really cathartic.”

“It sure seems like it,” Steph said. “I guess it’s probably bad to say, but I don’t think I’d mind being a werewolf myself.” She had a glint in her eye. “Could you turn me if I was willing?”

“Oh boy.” Deacon rolled his eyes. “Here we go.”

“What?” She smiled. “I’m simply asking. Is that so wrong?”

Maya’s cheeks grew even redder. “Technically, I probably can turn people, but it’s not like it’s a…fun…process. You know what I mean?”

The agent rubbed his face. “You don’t want to make Steph a werewolf anyway, Maya. People are already plenty scared of her.”

“Pfft.” His partner picked a bottlecap up from the improvised crate table between us and threw it at him. “You’re the worst, St. Clare.” To Maya, she said, “I was only kidding…mostly. I couldn’t make it look half as good as you do anyway.”

Maya gave me a distinct “help me” look. “Thanks, I think,” she said.

What would possibly possess anyone to desire to become a Forgotten? Marcus asked.

Based on the way Steph stared at Maya, I could think of at least one reason. But I kept that thought to myself.

I cleared my throat. “Tell me about this catch you mentioned earlier. I hate to say it, but Dan’s right. We do have to be careful. Anything that feels like it might be weird needs a thorough examination.”

“Right.” Maya nodded resolutely. “I heard some of the travelers talking about being stalked by killer cats.” She gave a small, worried frown. “One of the older guys called them ‘apex predators.’”

“This is a pretty dense forest,” Deacon said. “Could be naturally occurring.”

“There are bobcats in Pennsylvania…” Dan said slowly. “Maybe that’s what’s been after our group too.” He didn’t really sound convinced, and neither was I. The wounds on those bodies looked a little too much like shit I’d seen before.

“Please don’t let this change your mind,” Maya told me pleadingly. “I know it’s a risk, but so is everything else these days. If that fort is a real place, then it’s worth a try.”

It took me only a moment to make a decision. “Okay, guys. It seems obvious that our priority as a group needs to be safety at the moment. Don’t get me wrong. We’re still a bunch of crazy badasses who don’t mind fighting here and there. And we’ll get through the fights we take on like we got through this one, and we’ll get through the next one, and the one after that. Nothing about our abilities has changed. If anything, we can only get stronger. It’s other people we need to think about. As annoying as they can be, these survivors need us right now, and we owe it to them to keep them safe. So, that’s what we’ll do. Not because it’s easy—I’m sure it’ll be the furthest thing from that—but because it’s the right thing.” I looked around the tight circle at the faces of my team. “You guys with me?”

They nodded and answered more or less in unison. “Yeah.”

“Good.” I grinned. “Remember, we’ve killed gods together. And if we can do that, we can do whatever the fuck we want.”

“Hell, yeah!” Dan whooped.

Brax actually laughed, leaning back against the wall of the teepee. “All right,” he said. “You’re crazy for a human, but that’s not too bad.”

Chapter Fifteen

The last night we spent in the Delaware Water Gap camp was freezing-ass cold. The air was heavy with moisture that crept into everything I owned. In the morning, I kept myself warm by loading up our two trucks, lashing down the payloads, and double-checking to make sure everything had been accounted for.

The group had already made a sizeable dent in the food we’d scavenged, and that made me nervous. I pushed the feeling down and concentrated on the positive. We were finally moving the hell on from this place.

The woods had served us as well as they could, I supposed, but I was still glad to put the clearing behind us.

The trucks bookended our ragtag procession—me and Luis at the front, and Deacon and Jules at the back. A set of long-distance walkie-talkies scrounged from the supply store kept us in communication.

“Which one of us is Eagle One?” I joked, pulling out of the clearing onto the rough track winding through the trees.

“If I say that’s me, what does that make you?” Deacon chuckled to himself. “Vendetta? Ladybird?” He paused. “Eagle Two?”

Luis and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes. “Now I know why you’re not in the Secret Service,” I said.

In the passenger seat beside me, the kid smirked broadly.

“Oh, come on,” the agent protested. The radio crackled mildly. “The Secret Service doesn’t even do codenames anyway. There’s an agency for that.”

“Yeah, and I’m guessing you’re not a part of that either.” I glanced at my companion, and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin. He made a good co-pilot. The kid knew how to handle a gun, and he laughed at my jokes. What else could I ask for?

The highway leading west from the Water Gap was empty, dotted with the abandoned carcasses of other vehicles. Some of the ramps were still clogged, even though all the cars were empty now. I could only imagine what the roads had looked like on the first few days after the gods arrived.

Luis gazed out the window. His dark eyes betrayed no trace of emotion. “How many of those drivers are dead now, do you think?” he asked flatly. Then he sighed and shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. “Sorry, I shouldn’t say shit like that.”

“Nope,” I said. “We need to focus on the people who we can still save, not on the ones we couldn’t.”

One of his hands reached up to clasp the beaded rosary hanging loosely around his neck. “I know you’re right, but I keep thinking about my grandma.”

I nodded. “Well, sure. That’s understandable.”

“I have to honor her memory, you know? Every damn day because I’m alive instead of her.” Seconds passed while he thought about that, and he shook his head slowly like he tried to banish the thought.

“Listen, worrying about the people who have died isn’t helpful,” I said. “Whoever is left alive to mourn them when this is all over can do so. But remembering your grandmother can be helpful.”

He frowned. “How? It makes me feel like shit that I couldn’t save her.”

I shook my head. “You said it yourself. You can honor her memory, and the best way to do that is by staying alive. And killing as many of these asshole gods as we can. It won’t bring her back, but it will bring her justice.”

He nodded thoughtfully and looked out the window again. For a long time after that, the only sounds were the growl of the truck’s engine and the deep hum of the tires on the pavement. Another traveler’s sunrise bloomed over the horizon at our backs.

“Seriously, how are you doing?” I asked at last, breaking the spell of quiet that had settled into the cab.

Luis turned his head to look at me. “I’m hanging in there, and I’m ready for whatever comes next.”

I smiled at him. “That’s good. Better than most of the people in our group.”

He nodded. “Let me know if you want me to drive at any point.”

“You old enough to have a license?” I teased.

He gave me an incredulous look. “For real? Hell yeah, I got a license. Driving’s one of the only things I ever did by the book. Not that it matters anymore, right? I don’t think any cops will pull us over out here. Not anymore, anyway.”

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s one of the few perks of the apocalypse. We have to appreciate silver linings whenever we can.”

At normal speed, the drive between the Water Gap and the Poconos should have taken less than an hour. Because we were shepherding a herd of freezing, exhausted pedestrians along with us, the journey took a hell of a lot longer. More than once, we had to stop and let those on foot take a rest on the highway, though never for too long. I half expected more zombies to pop out at any moment.

Or something worse.

Maya came to the side of my truck on the last break and leaned in the window. “We’re not too far away now,” she said, gesturing in a westerly direction. “All we’ve got are, like, old gas station maps, but they say we’re near where that group was headed. Most of the maps have something marked around here, even if it’s not explicitly labeled.” She indicated a point on a large, well-worn paper creased with fold lines. Our target was an unidentified rectangle nestled deep in the mountain range. “Dan says this looks right. I’ll defer to his military experience.”

“Does that mean you trust him?” I examined her face as I asked.

“Yeah, why not?” She looked at me a little funny. “He’s helped us out the whole way.” Her expression turned resolute. “Vic, I’m all for vetting our associates as much as possible, but there has to be a line somewhere. He and his men have proven themselves enough by now.”

“No, I know.” I backpedaled out of that line of questioning fast. “I’m simply trying to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

Maya pursed her lips. “Dan and that other guy still aren’t getting along, huh?”

“The other guy’s name is Brax,” I said. “And, no. Not as far as I can tell. Has he said anything to you about how it’s going?” I kept an eye out behind her for either one of the men in case they happened to saunter past the vehicle.

“Nope.” She raised an eyebrow. “All I know is that they never look too happy to see each other.”

“Cool.” I sighed. “Awesome.”

I turned the key and glanced at the empty seat next to me. Luis made a habit of getting out at every stop to check on the crowd. He had last reported a significant drop in morale. I assumed I’d get a similar report when he came back again.

“People are starting to think we’re gonna die on the road,” he’d told me grimly. “The last camp didn’t really cut it for them in terms of feeling like…well, like we’re out of the woods. We gotta get somewhere with real beds and shit—that’s what they want.”

I glanced at Maya. “If you see Luis, can you tell him it’s time to roll out? Things will get better once we get where we’re going, I think. I hope, anyway.”

She nodded. “Sure.” As she turned to leave, she stopped and peered back at me. “Hey, Vic? I want you to know I think you’re doing great.” She left before I could thank her.

I must agree with Maya’s sentiment, Victoria. You may not always feel like a leader, but you have stepped admirably into the role.

“I appreciate that,” I said. “Now, let’s hope this move pays off the way we want it to.”

Two minutes later, Luis hopped into his seat, and I eased the truck back onto the road, watching in the mirrors for the refugees to follow.

Dan was the one who pointed out the graveled path into the brush. It wound between two perimeter markers, which he studied for a moment before nodding and telling me to proceed. He fell back to confer with his infantrymen, and I radioed Deacon. “Don’t quote me on this, but I think we made it.”

“Yeah.” His voice held an undercurrent of apprehension. “I’m not breaking out the champagne just yet.”

“Me neither.” All I could see was a tangled growth of trees and plants, with a passage hollowed out of the middle. The place felt ominous. I didn’t get a welcoming vibe at all. Although if this was previously a secret military base, I doubted they wanted people strolling up to their gates.

“Marcus,” I said. “In your professional opinion, what are the odds that this is another trap?”

Greater than zero, he admitted. That being said, I do not sense anything overtly strange in the vicinity. Make of that brief assessment what you will.

My foot pressed the gas pedal, and the truck crept forward. Entering the claustrophobic tunnel of greenery reminded me of a car wash. Leaves and branches scraped the windows, blanketing us with soft shadows, and a hush descended outside the vehicle. The human figures trudging behind the bumper blurred in the dimming light.

“Where do you think we’ll come out?” I asked, mostly to defuse the nervous tension in the truck. “Narnia?”

“If I see Mr. Tumnus, I’ll put a fucking bullet between his eyes,” Luis responded.

I laughed in surprise. “What? Why?”

“Because the last goat man I saw tried to kill me.” He had his eyes fixed forward, his hands gripping the stock of his gun. “I’m not about to trust anything with hooves.”

Point taken. I made the judicious decision to shut the hell up, at least until I knew what was going on. The overgrown tunnel continued for fifty more yards before it opened onto a much cleaner, more normal path. We’d gone from secret passage to country road in the space of a few feet. The transition was jarring.

Luis saw it first. “Okay, I take it back,” he said, his voice flat with irony and tinged with a kernel of dark amusement. “Narnia would be a hell of a lot better than this shit.”

I stepped on the brake. “Holy shit.”

The building rising in front of us out of the thick, misty Poconos morning looked like a structure created for one thing—containment.

It did not look like our new home sweet home.

Chapter Sixteen

Seven of us stood in a cluster beside the trucks, gazing up at the austere majesty of what Dan told us was called Fort Sigel. A massive double fence encircled the entire perimeter, topped by menacing loops of razor wire. “Are we absolutely sure this is a fort?” I asked. “Because I can’t help feeling like we’re about to turn ourselves in.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Luis agreed. “This place looks like a fucking prison. I’ll take a wet tent over jail any day.”

I was inclined to agree, but Dan stepped forward and held his hands up, turning to face us. “Whoa there,” he said. “Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet. As far as I’m concerned, this looks pretty normal and considering the circumstances, I’d be more worried if they didn’t have a shit ton of defenses in place.” We must have still seemed incredibly skeptical because he hastened to add, “Trust me. The military decks their important places out like this all the time. We’re looking at high-security secret stuff, remember.”

Soldiers work in mysterious ways, Victoria. This stronghold looks very different to those I knew in my day, but his statement strikes a chord of truth. Have I not attempted to instill such a love for defense in you?

It made sense. I nodded. “All right. No use standing around with our jaws on the floor, then, is there?” Frank, Maya, and Jules turned to gather the group in a more orderly fashion, but I touched the Were’s arm. “Hey, can I ask you a favor? There’s a job that needs to get done, and you’re the best suited, hands down.”

“Sure, Vic.” She looked toward the refugees for a moment, then turned and gave me her usual, easygoing smile. “Anything I can do to help.”

Gesturing at the mountain forests grown in around the fort, I said, “Ever since the last supply run, I’ve thought about how there must be more survivors. Could you wolf out and do another search in the vicinity? Assuming we can gain entry here, I want to make sure we bring as many people with us as we can.”

“Absolutely,” Maya said. A determined light gleamed into her eye. “If there’s anyone out there, I’ll make sure I find them.”

I returned her smile. “Good. I know you will. I’ll send Luis with you for backup in case you run into any trouble. He looks like a kid, but he’s a pretty good shot and smart as hell. You’ll make a kick-ass team.”

She laughed. “Okay. In that case, let me snag a change of clothes first, and we’ll be off. You want me to do some recon while we’re out there? It couldn’t hurt to try and find out what the gods’ next move is, right? I mean, I doubt they’d leave their plans lying around, but you never know what I might find.”

Power—even godlike power—does not necessarily beget intelligence, Marcus quipped.

“I like that thinking,” I answered. “Round up everyone you can and report back to me, but if you do find people, be careful what risks you take. We can always do a separate scouting trip.”

“Right.” Maya scooted off to get extra clothes, and I went to inform Luis of his new assignment.

“Aye aye, Captain.” The kid snapped a salute and shouldered his gun. “Not gonna lie. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about getting trapped in that chunk off concrete anyway.” As he walked away to meet up with Maya, he called over his shoulder. “It’s a glorified prison, no matter what anyone says.”

I shook my head on my way to the others. His observations were at least visually accurate, and perhaps not totally unfounded, but the fort was the first place I’d seen in weeks that even looked safe from the outside. Right now, the potential for security was too valuable to pass up.

Our nomad company of refugees began to flow slowly toward the front of the fort, which was blocked by fence gates and flanked by spotlight-equipped watchtowers. The heavy door beyond the gates had uniformed guards on either side. Each held a rifle in their hands.

Whatever the intentions of its inhabitants, Fort Sigel meant business.

Brax stopped walking twenty yards from the first gate. When I looked at him, he scowled and turned from the guards. “Fuck this,” he said. “I’m not going in there.”

Veronica raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You knew we were coming here from the beginning, and now it’s suddenly a problem?” The strain of the journey showed clearly on her face. She was ready to fight.

He laughed coldly. “After all that time in Asphodel, there’s no way in hell I’ll live more of my life behind one fence, let alone two. I’ve stuck with you for longer than I might’ve expected, but this is where I get off the train.”

Veronica opened her mouth again, but I stopped her. “Don’t worry about it,” I said quietly. “It’s okay. He knows what he’s doing.” She rounded on me then, incredulous. “Trust me,” I told her. “It’ll be fine.”

She stared at me for a second longer, then heaved a sigh. “Fine. All right.”

Brax turned away. “It’s always been your mission, not mine,” he said. “The humans are on their own. Including you.” He paused. “Take care of yourself. It’s a wild world now.” The next thing I saw was his back as he headed out, leaving us all to stand there and watch him go.

Deacon chuckled. “Bye, Brax,” he muttered sarcastically. “We’ll miss you too.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I fixed my eyes straight ahead and kept them there. “Whatever he wants, it’s got nothing to do with me. We have no beef.”

It is true that I have yet to see a single cow, but I do not understand what that has to do with Abraxzael.

I sighed. “Let it go, Marcus. Let’s get this meet-and-greet over with, okay?”

The centurion grumbled but didn’t say anything more. With Deacon, Dan, and Veronica at my side, I approached the gates.

“Halt.” The guard on the left stepped forward, his rifle in hand, to scrutinize me from under the brim of his helmet. “Stay where you are. What’s your business here?”

“We’re a band of survivors seeking shelter,” I replied. I spread my arms to indicate the small colony shuffling behind me. “As you can see, we have a lot of families with us—children, elders, those in need of medical care.”

The guard craned his neck to see past me, staring at the crowd with unreadable eyes. He glanced at his colleague and back at me. “Where did you come from?” he asked tersely.

Honesty seemed like the best policy, especially since I couldn’t think of a decent lie. “New York City. We’re all fleeing the invasion.”

Okay, so maybe I wasn’t exactly fleeing it, per se, but they definitely were, and that meant the statement still scanned at, like, eighty percent truth. Maybe higher.

My buddy, the army guard, didn’t appear to buy it. Again, he examined us in all our pitiful glory with a critical eye, and he looked at his partner once more. The time, the second guy tilted his head to talk into the radio secured at his shoulder. I heard the static but not what he said.

“There’s an awful lot of you,” the first guard observed, using a tone that suggested he thought I might be involved in human trafficking instead of search and rescue. “How’d you manage to move so far with a group this big?”

I suppressed the urge to get snarky with him. “We’re survivors. We’ve gotten pretty good at it, I guess.”

His face showed no hint of expression, and after another few seconds, he stepped back from the gate. Static crackled across his radio channel.

Everyone waited.

Behind me, the refugees grew a little restless. They could see that things had stalled, and I heard them murmuring, but I made a point not to look back. It was too late to show any signs of uncertainty or weakness. If there was shit there, we’d already walked headlong into the pile.

The sliding clatter of industrial locking mechanisms filled the air. I braced myself as the door swung open to reveal a stout man whose ample belly strained against his impeccable uniform. He was unexpectedly jovial, already smiling widely. The iron set of his jaw and the ramrod-straight posture further denoted him as a superior officer.

“Hello, hello!” A booming laugh freed itself from his throat and soared above our heads. “I’m the general, and that’s what you can call me.” He waved his men off, striding directly up to the gate. “Looks like we’ve got a good-sized crowd here. Well, the more, the merrier.” He gave a signal, and the guard on the right punched a code into a panel. Immediately, the gates disengaged.

“Wait,” I said. Everything had sudden happened so fast. “You’re letting us in?” My brain knew this was the optimal outcome, but I’d also been ready to deal with the very real possibility of rejection. Or at least an argument.

“Of course we are,” he exclaimed as though anything else was absurd. “There’s plenty of space for everyone. This was a functional military base, you know.” He chuckled. “I suppose it still is, in a way. After all, the resistance is in full swing, and it’s groups like yours and mine that form the backbone. I can’t very well turn away a fellow fighter.” His look became abruptly meaningful. “And I know you’re a fighter, young lady.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” I answered. “And the name’s Vic.” The weight of the man’s eyes centered squarely on me, but I refused to back down.

“Ha! That’s quite right, Vic. But you’ll be perfectly safe here. Not to worry. I do have one non-negotiable stipulation.” He surveyed us all. “You must surrender your weapons. No exceptions.” One of his bushy eyebrows quirked upward. “In the event of an attack, you’ll be able to retrieve them, but they will be under lock and key at all other times. They will not be handled by anyone else after lockup, and it goes without saying that there will be no tampering. On that, you have my word.” The General said these things somberly, projecting an air of utmost seriousness, but the thought of giving up the Gladius Solis made my stomach churn.

“No exceptions at all?” I kept my voice as even as possible.

“None.” The general patted his hip in the same place that the Gladius Solis hung in its sheath on mine. “Make no mistake, my newest friend. We know all about your exploits in the city. That security feed from City Hall was plastered all over the news for at least a week.” Another smile worked its way onto his face. The corners of his eyes crinkled. “We know exactly who you are. What we don’t know is what you are, or what your plan is. But I like your moxie, and for now, that’s good enough.”

Well, shit. The guy had had me pegged from the beginning. I couldn’t help feeling like the underdog in an unfair game, but there was nothing we could do. The hundred people waiting at my back would all end up victims if I decided to let impulse and stupidity prevail.

“Understood,” I told him. “Please excuse us for a moment while we confer.”

“By all means.” He moved back, and I drew my team around me. Frank, Steph, and Jules had made their way to the front of the masses, and they jumped in as soon as they saw the huddle.

“Who’s the brass?” Frank wanted to know. “Did he say we’re not allowed? I can rough him up for ya.”

I frowned. “No, Frank. He said the opposite. He’s letting us in…if we give him all our weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” His volume rose briefly out of control. He reined himself in with an awkward grimace. “Sorry, sorry. But you’re outta your mind if you hand that sword over. I guarantee you’ll never see it again.” He made a slicing motion with the flat of his hand. “Done. Out of sight. Forever.”

“He’s right, for once,” Deacon said. “We don’t know for sure that these aren’t the wrong hands. Even if they don’t want to use it to help the other side, there’s a lot that sword is capable of.”

Victoria, know that I trust your choices implicitly, but I feel compelled to inform you that letting go of Kronin’s sword is an act that many would consider inconceivable.

“I know,” I said in response to both. “Nobody knows that better than me. But there’s no way I can leave these people in the lurch after we brought them all the way here. There’d be a riot.”

“That’s probably also true,” Deacon admitted.

I sighed. “Then it’s settled. I’ll give them the sword, and if they won’t give it back, I’ll beat their asses until they do. That sounds like a fair compromise to me.”

Steph looked like she really wanted to say something, but whatever it was, she held it back. I saw she and Deacon exchange a glance in the instant before I turned back to the general.

“What will it be?” he asked, smiling like he already knew.

“We agree to your terms.” I unfastened the sword hilt from my belt and placed it carefully into the massive lockbox they’d already wheeled out during our deliberations.

The man nodded approvingly. “Excellent. A wise choice by a wise and undoubtedly powerful leader.” He beckoned me toward the door with a sweep of his arm. “Shall we?”

The sounds of my team putting their weapons into the fort’s apparently impenetrable lockbox echoed in my ears. Strangely unencumbered for the first time since the very beginning, I followed our host through the entrance to his stronghold.

Just inside, the general paused. Then he turned to me and, in a voice that rang with pride, proclaimed, “Welcome to Fort Sigel.”

Chapter Seventeen

No sooner had we crossed the threshold than the old soldier whisked me off for a tour of the place. Deacon and the others had to jog to catch up. Our heads constantly swiveled, taking in the sheer enormity of the fort. As imposing as it had seemed from the outside, the interior felt ten times bigger. A mazelike network of stark corridors connected room after room.

“We’re in a very good spot here at Fort Sigel, as you can see,” our guide said, beaming like a college tour guide. “Plenty of accommodations, plenty of food, plenty of high spirits.” He led us up to an enormous, high-ceilinged chamber lined with benches tucked under sturdy metal tables. “The mess hall. There are enough rations back there to last us months—maybe years if we’re careful. The kitchen’s not exactly state-of-the-art, but it gets the job done. Obviously, we have people here at the fort who take care of these things, but if you ask nicely, I bet you could talk your way onto kitchen duty.”

Jules blinked. “You have food for months?”

The general turned his blinding smile on her. “That’s right.” He chuckled slightly. “People tend to forget that a situation like this stopped being impossible the moment we invented WMDs. Hell, you’re probably too young to really remember it, but there were times in history when it seemed inevitable. We’ve been prepared for the worst for a long, long time. Seems all those paranoid scenarios have finally come to pass.” He ran a hand over his brow. “I have to tell you, I never thought it’d look like this, though.”

He brought us to the main barracks, an entire wing of residential space devoted to rooms of varying sizes. The largest ones had nothing but rows of simple army bunks, each with a chest for personal items at the foot. A far cry from luxury, but in a lot of respects, it was even better than my junky old loft in Brooklyn Heights. For starters, the bathrooms all had functioning doors.

“I have a question, sir,” Dan said as we left the barracks behind.

“Fire away,” the general said cheerfully. The smile hadn’t left his face since the start of our walking tour, and anyone who came into contact with him, however briefly, got a good dose of it.

The soldier looked around. “Forgive me if I’m speaking out of turn, sir, but for a fort this size, there aren’t very many soldiers. Who keeps the operation running, and where are they?”

“Ah.” The old soldier rubbed his hands together. “Interested in the nitty-gritty, are you? A man after my own heart.”

We passed through a large, harshly lit atrium, and he spread his arms wide. Little clumps of people gathered everywhere, sitting and talking, reading, or writing. The atmosphere was infused with a blanketing sense of calm, the opposite of the unbridled chaos we had fought through to get there.

“The company I’ve assembled to keep Fort Sigel afloat are all hidden gears in a well-oiled machine, and that’s a hundred percent by design. I want those who come here seeking shelter, like yourselves, to know they’re safe and to feel the safety. And I think that’s easier when the magic stays hidden, so to speak.”

At this point, our troop passed a rare window, which offered a view of little more than thick greenery and pale, overcast sky. The general nodded toward the glass. “All I mean is, I don’t like to freak people out with an excessive show of force. You understand, Dan. The realities of military living can be difficult for the average civilian to process. Fort Sigel is meant to invite, not intimidate.”

Dan looked vaguely puzzled. “There are more soldiers, then?” he ventured.

The officer guffawed. “Dan, my boy, a general is nothing without his army! Of course, there are more—many more than it would seem at first glance—but speaking from one commander to another, they’ve got to be managed in the right way, or what good would they do me?” He tapped the side of his head. “I keep my boys on regulated rotations, which are active one at a time. If they’re not on duty, they’re asleep. That’s what most of them are doing at any given time, truth be told. I need ʼem fresh at any hour. Got to keep them on their toes.”

“The barracks we saw was empty,” Deacon interjected. He eyed the man with mistrust.

“Oh, they don’t stay in the main building.” The man made a dismissive motion. “This is for guests of the fort. The guard detail is housed inside the auxiliary barracks to prevent upheaval during shift changes. All to keep the ship sailing smoothly.” He came to a door at the end of a long hall that was held shut by a long bar. “Now, we’ve started to cultivate some of our own renewable resources in recent weeks.” A shadow crossed his genial features. “Personally, I had hoped this wouldn’t be strictly necessary, but things don’t look promising.” Unlatching the bar, he pushed the door open, and I caught a pungent whiff from the cloud of brown dust kicked up by the swinging motion.

Steph wrinkled her nose. “Is that fertilizer?” she muttered under her breath. The brown dust cleared, and her eyes widened. “Cows?”

Victoria, I believe I have at last located the beef. Perhaps Abraxzael has already learned of its existence.

I forced myself to keep a reasonable poker face and thought very hard at Marcus to shut up. “I’m impressed that you’re raising livestock,” I said out loud, and it was true. The last thing I’d expected to see this deep in the overgrown wilderness was a fledgling farm run by the remnants of the local military.

The general pointed into the distance toward a boundary line that was barely visible from where we stood. “A garden’s been planted in that back area there. Still mostly seedlings, but it’s a start. We’re trying to stay ahead of the game. Planning for the long term, in case this storm doesn’t blow over.”

I gave the surroundings another long look. “It seems like you’re doing pretty well for the time being. Better than I would’ve expected out here.”

“That much, we owe to the government,” he explained. “Fort Sigel was originally built as a haven for top officials during times of intense crisis. We’re not talking Camp David level here, but not too far behind. They thought mostly about congressmen and their families at the time.” He stopped talking for a minute, and his expression eased back into solemnity. “When we heard that things were going south all over, we put out the call that Fort Sigel was open and ready to receive. We were prepared to be stampeded. But nobody showed.”

Deacon, Steph, and I all frowned at the same time. “Really?” Steph said. “No one?”

“Does that mean nothing went down in D.C.?” the agent asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the general admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders. “That’s what we’d all like to think, but—”

“Why attack New York City and not the nation’s capital?” Dan asked.

“That’s the million-dollar question, and unfortunately, we still don’t have any kind of answer.” He sighed deeply. “But like I said, nobody came, so we turned to short-wave radio. Thought maybe we could fish out as many wandering survivors as possible before they were lost in the mountains. On the first day, I was sure it wouldn’t work, and then, wouldn’t you know it? People came out of the forest left and right, rattled the gates, and shouted at the guards to let them in. It’s been a long time since I last saw folks so desperate.” After a beat of silence, his face lightened again. “I suppose I can’t complain, though. We’ve built our own little slice of heaven out here. It’s not half bad if you don’t think about it too hard.” His booming laughter rolled across the livestock pen and over the grass toward the new garden.

I stared after the sound at the threads of mist still hanging in the sky and the thick, gray blanket of clouds. The barely visible fence tracked far to the right, and along its inside perimeter, I noticed the shape of a second building nestled in the trees. “What’s that?” I asked.

He traced the line of my gaze. “That’s off-limits,” was the answer I got. He didn’t speak unkindly, and his eyes still sparkled. “To everyone, that is. Even me.”

I blinked. “Is there anyone here who’s higher on the totem pole than you?”

He shook his head. “Negative, but the stuff that’s in there—or that used to be in there—is above my pay grade. Only for emergencies, and only for those with the proper clearance.”

“Not you?” I asked.

The general grinned. “Not me. Call it our own little Situation Room. I always thought it was in a bad location, myself, but I guess if you get all the way up to the top, you can damn near see the whole fort.” He turned to me. “I can’t get in, so don’t ask. As far as I know, there’s never been a key. The whole thing simply…looms over there.” He gave it one more second of scrutiny and pivoted on his heel. “Anyway, that’s about that. I’d like to encourage you to rest up as much as you like. I bet this is your first opportunity to do that in a while. Except you, Dan.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I want you and your men to come with me. I have some new orders to hand down. As long as you’re here, you’re under my watch.”

The soldier saluted. “Sir, yes, sir!”

We filed back into the fort’s inner rooms, winding through the labyrinth of halls until we reached the central atrium. I recognized some of the faces milling about the room—women with babies on their hips and young children clinging to their legs, old people snoring in chairs, kids chasing each other around the bare floor.

“This is where we part ways, Vic,” the general said, pausing his stride to address me. “Take this time to really soak in that R and R. Tomorrow, you’ll all be expected to pitch in to get the feast ready. You’ve arrived just in time.”

“The what?” Just as I asked that my empty stomach growled.

“It’s been a long, hard road for all of us to get here,” he explained. “We’ve planned a feast to celebrate our success. It goes without saying that you and yours are all invited. Think of it as a morale booster for the troops in the middle of a long tour of duty.”

“We sure could use that,” Jules declared gratefully. “Thank you for all your hospitality, General. We’re indebted.”

“Not at all,” he told her. “Just fighters looking out for fighters.” And with that, he and Dan moved down another hallway, their footsteps fading quickly.

Steph scoffed. “A feast? Are you kidding? That sounds like a waste of rations to me.” She folded her arms. “Probably just MREs anyway.” She looked at Deacon. “I think that guy is screwy somehow. Why would he want to use food that could otherwise sustain the population of this fort for months?”

“Aw, come on!” Frank, who had lain low in the back for the better part of the last hour, suddenly came to life. “Don’t be such a sourpuss, lady. The blonde—the other blonde—is right. The people need this. It’s harmless fun.”

“Harmless?” Steph glared daggers at the mobster. “Since when is reckless consumption of finite resources considered harmless? The general’s out of his damn gourd if he thinks his little micro farm is gonna be enough to support everyone in here. Not to mention that we just added a hundred mouths to the equation.”

“So what?” Frank shot back, lifting his brick of a chin. “He don’t seem like a crackpot to me. I say we let him do his thing.”

“And this is why you’re not in charge.” Steph threw her hands up. “How can you not see that this is fucked up? We can’t call in for refills when the pantry’s empty.”

“I bet you’re real frickin’ fun at parties,” he retorted sullenly. “Ever heard of a little somethin’ called nourishin’ the human spirit?”

The agent barked out a laugh, tossing her sleek golden locks. “Oh, please do tell me all about it. I cannot wait to hear this.” Her fingertips tapped out a sharp staccato beat on her elbow, the equivalent of a cat lashing its tail.

“Okay, okay, okay.” I maneuvered myself between them, my arms outstretched to preserve precious personal space. “Put a lid on it, you guys. This isn’t worth brawling over.” I faced Steph. “I get where you’re coming from, but we are technically guests here. Not our fort, not our rules.”

She huffed, her nostrils flaring. “Fine. It’s still dumb as hell.”

“So don’t stuff your face!” Frank suggested. “No one’s forcin’ you to do shit, Secret Agent Barbie.”

“Frank,” I said sternly. “Not cool.” I could hear Steph crack her slowly knuckles one by one.

He shuffled back a little. “Sorry.”

“Everybody take a deep breath.” I filled my lungs and let the exhale pull some of the tension from my shoulders. “Let’s…cool down for a while. We’re safe now. I don’t know about you guys, but I need a shower badly.”

“Same here,” Deacon agreed. He looked like he was smirking slightly, maybe from Frank’s last jab at his partner. “Catch you later, Vic.”

“Don’t get into trouble,” I replied. He walked away, and I directed my attention toward the mobster. “That goes for you too. Got it? No antagonizing Steph. I won’t be here to tell her not to kneecap you with her bare hands.”

He grumbled, but it was secretly good-natured. “Scram, kid. Leave this old dog alone.”

I faked a bow. “Your wish is my command.”

On my way to the long-awaited shower, I passed more and more familiar faces, all led by residents of Fort Sigel. A dark-haired, dark-eyed young woman scurried by, and I thought of Maya and Luis

Worry not, Victoria. When they return, you may vouch for them. The general’s beef is not yet plentiful. He should have no qualms about allowing them entry.

“What?” I rubbed my face. “All right, you and I need to have a talk about idioms.”

Chapter Eighteen

The water pressure was awesome and damn, did it feel good. I stood under the stream with the hot tap turned up as far as I could stand it until the stall was full of steam. Then, I shut the shower off and stepped out, my feet squeaking on the tile floor. The mirror was fogged, and I wiped out a circle for my face. The sight of my tired eyes and bedraggled rat’s nest of hair made me snort in the same moment that I realized how long it had been since I’d last seen myself.

“Not gonna lie, Vic,” I told my reflection. “You’re looking pretty rough.” The contours of my cheeks and jaw stood out in sharp relief, cloaked in post-shower haze. As I wrapped a towel around myself, I felt the edges of my ribcage protruding, nearly fatless. I didn’t feel bad, but my body was starting to show signs of wear.

Apparently, the nectar didn’t quite mask some things, such as a distinct lack of nutrition. I poked at my own scrawny torso. “Yeah, we’ll have to work on this.”

Maybe Frank and Jules were right about that feast being a good idea after all.

I dried myself and pulled my clothes on without getting up from the edge of the bed. In this brief period of total inaction, I suddenly sensed the exhaustion seated deep inside my bones. It was a strange, conflicting sensation feeling both the nectar’s constant energy pumping through my veins and the overwhelming desire to lay back and close my eyes.

Once I’d pulled my shirt over my head, I decided on the latter course of action, but sleep proved frustratingly fleeting. I sat back up and combed my fingers through my damp hair. I took a few minutes to reflect on how fast things had changed for us. Twelve hours ago, we’d been a human herd sandwiched between two trucks, struggling over mountain tracks in search of a safe place we had only heard about. Now, I was squeaky clean for the first time in probably weeks, in a real bedroom, on a real bed, with real blankets. It was nothing short of an early Christmas miracle.

So, why did it feel so weird?

I dropped my head into my hands, released a little groan, and scratched my head with all my fingers. Everything was as perfect as I could’ve asked for, if not more. After a week in the unforgiving, Forgotten-infested wilderness, Fort Sigel was a castle in the sky. And there were definitely parts of me that acknowledged this as the major victory it was. Still, something didn’t sit right with me.

“Ah, dammit,” I said out loud. “Nothing’s ever easy.” The words suddenly flipped a switch in my brain, which caused some circuit to complete. “Holy shit, is that it? It’s too good to be true.”

I scooted over to the other side of the mattress and fished in the pile of cast-off clothing for Marcus’s medallion. The chain slung easily around my neck as I inched back to sit with my shoulders against a propped-up pillow. “Hey, let me get your perspective on something. It’s been eating at me all day.”

I am here for you, my friend. Unburden your troubles, and I will do my best to help you bear them.

I smiled in the dim light of the room. “You could have just said, ‘yes.’”

Loquaciousness is part of my charm.

I folded the damp towel in my lap and chewed the inside of my lip. “Do you think this might have all worked out a little too well?”

Please elaborate. I am not sure I fully grasp your meaning.

Trying to collect and arrange my thoughts into something explainable, I flipped the towel, unfolded it, and started over. “Like pieces fell into place too fast. If I were the general, I wouldn’t have let a hundred random strangers into my awesome fort simply because I knew one of them could fight. And Steph has a point about this feast. It doesn’t make sense to be so careless about food.”

These points are both salient. However, we have yet to behold these stores the general claims to have. Possibly, he tells the truth, and they are as full as he says. If he has truly been supplied by your government, then does it not make sense for there to be an abundance?

“Sure,” I allowed. “But what if he’s lying? He could be saying shit to make us think we’re safe here long term.”

For what purpose? If it was the Gladius Solis he sought, he could have taken it and run this morning. I do not doubt your instincts, but I admit I have trouble formulating motive in this hypothetical lie.

“Me too.” I wrapped a lock of hair around my finger and tugged gently. “I can’t seem to let go of it, though. I think I’m on to something. I’m merely missing a few pieces.”

In any case, it is vital to stay alert. Keep your wits about you so that you will not be surprised by the sudden winds of change. We have relearned this day how quickly they arrive.

“No kidding,” I mumbled, still wracking my brain. “This will drive me completely insane. I have to find the missing link.”

A knock at the door disrupted my thoughts, but as soon as my brain processed the sound, I knew it was a welcome interruption. I would recognize that neat rapping anywhere. “Come in, Jules,” I called, not moving from my perch atop the extra firm mattress. “It should be open.”

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Look at you, getting a private room. How fancy. I guess this means you’re an officer.”

“I’m cool with that as long as I don’t have to ride another horse,” I said.

She chuckled. “Scoot over.” After we’d gotten as comfortable as we could, Jules glanced at me. “I came to see how you’re doing. Check in with my favorite person. You know.”

“I mean, I’m doing okay, but…” I trailed off, reluctant to voice my concerns. She was obviously happy to be at Fort Sigel. Putting her happiness in jeopardy, no matter what the reason, felt a little like a betrayal. Jules had already been through so much at the hands of the gods. She deserved a moment of peace, no matter how brief it might be.

“But?” she prompted.

“I’m waiting for the other boot to drop.” Saying it out loud made it sound stupider than it had been in my head. I wanted to take it back.

My friend laughed. “What do you mean? It’s about time we caught a break, don’t you think? We’ve been through hell these past few weeks, getting out of New York and then coming here. You’ve killed, like, a bunch of gods. I think you’re entitled to relax and take the good things as they come. They’re few and far between these days.”

I fidgeted. “You’re right, and I know you’re right. I’ve earned this as much as anyone else.”

“You don’t sound convinced,” she teased. “Seriously, Vic. Relax. We made it here. This place is real. Everything will be fine.”

I did my best to restrain my nervous energy, and I managed for about twenty seconds. Then I ran my fingers through my hair, wincing as they caught in a few tangles I’d missed with the comb. “Man, it’s not working. I gotta be missing something.”

Jules slid off her side of the bed. “You know what you’re missing? A good night’s sleep. Do that, and we’ll talk in the morning.” She came closer to me and placed her hands on my shoulders. “I know you’re a chronic insomniac, but promise you’ll give it a shot, okay? You’ve got a bed. Don’t waste it.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever, Mom.” We giggled. “Love you, Jules. Good night.”

“Love you too. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” The door closed behind her again, drenching me in heavy silence. The fort, I noticed, was quiet in its solitary spaces, as if the smaller rooms had been soundproofed. The effect was strange and profoundly isolating.

Maybe that was why I couldn’t sleep.

I lay on my back, staring blankly up at the plain eggshell ceiling for almost an hour before I finally gave up. Slipping my feet into my shoes, I put Marcus on. “Guess what?”

What?

“We’re going on a little adventure.” I picked my jacket up from the place where I’d dropped it before my shower and pushed my arms into the sleeves on my way out the door. “The general gave us an official tour already, but I’m a little more interested in what’s going on behind the scenes.”

I distinctly remember you instructing both Deacon and Frank to stay out of trouble, Marcus said, though I could hear his smile.

“Do as I say,” I told him. “Not as I do. And besides, who said anything about trouble? We’ll merely do a little…exploring.”

Chapter Nineteen

Fort Sigel had high, reinforced windows and tons of super bright, artificial light. It was hard to tell what time it was when I reached the halls, but I found the fort’s populace far from bedded down for the night. Clusters of friends and strangers making friends spread throughout the common areas on blankets and chairs as if they were still camping out. The air was full of the pleasant sound of hushed conversation, laughter, and mothers singing their children to sleep. I was gratified to spot more than a few faces I recognized from our hard trek out of New York—faces I’d last seen lined heavily with exhaustion and fear. All seemed blissfully well now, and a surge of the deepest gratitude welled up through my chest.

The journey had been harrowing, but we made it.

I am pleased to see so many of our people at rest, Marcus commented. This intrepid band of pilgrims has endured much hardship.

“These are some of the toughest people I’ve ever seen,” I told him. “I’m proud of them.”

Well, I am very proud of you, Marcus said, and of the great leader you have become. You have truly grown from the ugliest duckling into a swan of valor.

I chuckled. “Uh, thanks, I think.” I passed out of a sprawling main room into the next corridor. A woman with a baby perched on her hip hurried in the opposite direction. She cradled the back of the child’s head against her shoulder, humming the soothing strains of a lullaby. We locked eyes for a second, and I nodded a greeting. Her smile started out polite and timid, then her dark eyes lit up.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It’s you.”

I blinked, and her soft oval face suddenly struck a faint chord of memory—she’d been one of the original safehouse refugees. It was nice but almost strange to run into her there, days later, among so many others. “Hi,” I said, offering her a smile. “How are you? Settling in okay?”

“Oh, my gosh, are you kidding?” Now, her grin was radiant. “This is like paradise, even compared to the place we had before.” Her baby fidgeted, and she shifted the weight against her body, bouncing the child lightly. “I can’t believe you found it for us. It is truly a miracle.”

Her praise was both flattering and humbling. I kept the smile on my face as I shuffled my feet, searching for the right words. “Well, I’m glad we’re all taken care of for now.”

“Yes.” She looked at me earnestly and cleared her throat. “Anyway, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you did to make this happen. You saved our lives.” A dry laugh escaped her lips. “When those…those beings descended on the city, I thought we were all done for.”

“Not yet,” I said, and I laughed too. Realizing the potential awkwardness of my chosen response, I added, “We’ll be perfectly fine here. I promise.” Nice save.

With the hand that wasn’t fastened around her child, she reached out and touched my arm in a simple, heartfelt gesture. “Thank you so much.” Then she moved past me, her footsteps trailing toward the common area.

I stood still for a moment in the wake of the encounter, a little dazed, processing what she had said. The genuine warmth of her words seeped slowly down into my heart. I think it grew a size or two, like the Grinch’s. She helped me put the constant struggle into perspective and refreshed my resolve to do the best I could for whoever crossed my path—as long as they were not Forgotten. Those assholes would all get a swift boot up the ass.

“I should have thanked her back,” I muttered, mentally kicking myself.

That is one thing you have yet to learn, Victoria, Marcus said with some amusement. The art of gracefully accepting a compliment.

“Where’s Dan?” I wondered, changing the subject. “I haven’t seen him since he left with the general. I’ve got some questions I want to ask.”

Perhaps those answers could be provided by another military expert you know, he responded. Someone whose years of experience can be measured in millennia.

“It’s good to diversify opinions,” I told him. “Not that I value yours any less, but Dan’s way more familiar with shit like guns and modern battle tactics. And I’ve never been a soldier, so I need all the input I can get.” I threaded my way toward the entrance to the fort, keeping an eye out for someone who might be able to tell me where the soldier was. A few guards stood near the main door, and I beelined for them.

The nearest guard saluted when he noticed me approaching. “Vic, right? What can I do for you?”

“Hey, can you tell me where I might be able to find my friend, Dan? He’s the officer who came in with me, the one with the soldiers.” I stopped short of divulging my intentions so that I could keep some cards close to the vest.

The guard frowned slightly. “He’s off with the general, as far as I know. I don’t know anything about what they’re doing. Could be top secret.” He shrugged and didn’t volunteer anything else.

“Okay.” I scratched my head. “Can you tell me when he’ll be back?”

“No, ma’am,” the guard replied a little regretfully. “That’s at the general’s discretion. The most I can do is let Dan know you’re looking for him the next time I see him.”

It didn’t really surprise me that the commanding officer might have secret operations going on in his fort, but I was a little taken aback by the fact that I couldn’t get even a vague sense of my friend’s location. As the de facto leader for weeks now, I guess I wasn’t too used to getting stonewalled.

But I was also no longer the highest in the chain of command.

“That’ll have to do,” I said. “Thanks.” I adjusted my trajectory and headed for the opposite end of the fort. “Did that feel weird to you?” I asked Marcus as soon as I judged we were out of earshot. “They didn’t tell me a single thing.”

It can be frustrating to deal with such procedures, but military institutions often have their own complex systems. Since we are guests in their generously provided shelter, it seems prudent to accept their practices. I have no doubt that Dan is faring well.

“Hmm.” The logic behind that advice was sound and typical of Marcus’s by-the-book attitude. Still, I had trouble shaking the conversation off. Once I’d gotten to actually speak to Dan again, I’d be much happier.

Worry not, Victoria. Tell me, where are we off to next? His voice was light and reassuring. Let us focus on the current adventure.

I sighed. “Oh, fine. I want to check out that high-security place we saw. It didn’t look like anyone was around earlier. Maybe we can sneak in while it’s dark.”

It seems foolish to leave such a structure unguarded.

“Sure,” I said, “but that’s a good thing. I can snoop around without getting busted.”

The route I chose essentially retraced the path of the tour we’d taken with the general. I walked with casual purpose, my head up and shoulders back, following the golden rule that got me through countless amateur recon missions back in my days of chasing Rocco—act like you belong there and nobody will say a word. It was half true, anyway. I knew where I was going.

I merely didn’t know if I’d be able to do what I wanted when I got there.

The common rooms were gradually emptying out as people trickled off to bed. A hush settled gently over Fort Sigel, wrapping it in a cover of peace. I drank in the tranquility while I made my way to the back exit that opened out toward the garden. The short corridor preceding it was empty. I crossed my fingers that the bar wouldn’t be padlocked and breathed a little easier when I saw that it wasn’t.

In fact, the latch gave barely any resistance at all. I slipped through into the fresh night air and took a deep, cleansing breath. “Man, this feels good,” I whispered to myself. Now that I wasn’t trapped out in it, the cold was more of a refresher than a threat. The air put a crisp, clean taste in the back of my throat. I looked around.

The garden lay toward the back wall of the fort’s perimeter, its tilled soil darker than the ground around it. I couldn’t see the edge of the property through the darkness from where I stood, but the silhouette of that empty building loomed in the trees. Its windows were blank and undisturbed, like expressionless eyes staring down on Fort Sigel below. I kept my movements casual in case anyone could see me, but I moved carefully and remained watchful for more soldiers.

The closer I got, the more abandoned the building appeared. Its front door had been securely boarded up some time ago, the planks crisscrossed by a chain and a heavy padlock for good measure. On the first floor, the windows were narrow and high off the ground, which made the prospect of breaking and entering kind of a pain. Picking that lock was an option—if I had tools on me and a person to stand lookout.

I filed that information away for later and turned to move around the corner along the western wall. Suddenly, the blinding flash of a searchlight stopped me dead in my tracks. It only lasted a split second, but I stood motionless, momentarily blinded by the brightness, and waited for my eyes to readjust. Adrenaline heated my blood. I tried to figure out what had just happened.

Victoria. Someone approaches.

I heard the sound at the same time as Marcus’s warning, and I turned in time to see a group of guards approaching my position. They had their sights set directly on me through the shadows. There was no sneaking away from this one. I prepared to put on my most innocent face and lie my ass off.

“Excuse me,” the man at the forefront of the squad called out. He signaled his troops, and they came to a standstill fifteen feet from me. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you’re not allowed to be in this vicinity. Can we help you get back to somewhere?” He took one hand off his gun and motioned for me to move. “Come this way, please. Away from the building.”

I held my hands up to show that I was unarmed. “My bad,” I answered, stepping toward them. “I must’ve gotten lost on my way to the can.”

The men had lights mounted on top of their guns that drenched their surroundings in piercing light. The first thing I noticed was that these soldiers weren’t as well put together as others I’d seen in the fort, at least not in the uniform department. One of them wore a pair of boots clearly designed for hiking instead of war. I thought about mentioning it but decided not to. I knew as well as anyone that times were hard as hell right now, and beggars couldn’t be choosers. At the moment, we were all beggars.

The leader chuckled. “No worries. I know the fort can be pretty confusing for new people.” He smiled. “For future reference, though, all the bathrooms are on the inside.”

I laughed like it was funny. “Right. Thanks for the tip.” His fatigues were faded and a little baggy on his frame. I wondered if the name stitched over the pocket was really his.

“C’mon,” he said. “We’ll escort you back. You can ask any of the guys inside how to get to the john.”

I thanked them and said I appreciated their help. Mostly, I appreciated them not shooting me. We returned to the fort in amicable silence. It was interesting that I had been thwarted by a whole contingent of security, but if the general had told the truth about that building containing government secrets, the extensive presence of guards made some sense. Maybe they had equipment hidden away in there—a satellite feed or some high-tech radio gear.

The troop left me at the front of the fort, and instead of going inside right away, I turned to the gate, intending to make a quick perimeter patrol like I’d gotten in the habit of doing around our shabby forest camp. The gate was flanked by more guards, who stopped me before I even got close.

“No one’s allowed out right now,” they said.

“But—” I began.

The man shook his head. “Fort rules, ma’am. It’s for your own safety.” He was obviously not about to budge, and without my sword, I knew I couldn’t persuade him. I pressed my lips together and slunk back to the door, suppressing a surge of disappointment. The general had made such a big deal out of me when we first met, but he still penned me up with everyone else.

I resolved to ask him about it later. As it turned out, I got the chance much sooner than I anticipated.

Chapter Twenty

I turned down the passageway leading to my room, lost in thought about everything I had experienced during my ill-fated solo foray into the night. The sight of the figure standing ahead of me in the middle of the hall snapped me back to attention. Caught off guard, I froze midstride.

The general smiled. “A good evening to you, Vic. I hope I haven’t startled you.” He was as congenial as ever, standing with his shoulders back and his hands neatly folded in front of him. If it weren’t for the razor-sharp light in his eyes, he might’ve looked like everyone’s favorite uncle.

“General,” I said, nodding. The little voice in the back of my head wanted to ask him directly about Dan, but I bit my tongue, sensing it would not be the greatest idea. I didn’t want it to look like I had suspicions.

“I thought I would ask you to accompany me to my office for a private meeting,” he said, still smiling. “Two leaders merging their groups into a single faction inevitably have much to discuss. I think this meeting could end up mutually beneficial in a myriad of ways.”

I considered the offer, maintaining my poker face. It was late, an odd time for a one-on-one meeting. Then again, he was the head of an entire base, and he had been busy with Dan for hours. I couldn’t deny the possibility that this was the first free moment he had. And I knew I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to talk to him alone.

I forced a grin. “Sure. It never hurts to build your network.”

“Excellent.” He led me down a corridor accessed only through an electronically locked door. At the end stood another one, intricately carved and wooden instead of cold metal. The general unlocked it with a silver key, which he whisked out of sight the instant he was done using it. Pushing the ornate door open with one hand, he spread the other wide to encompass the grandeur of the room. “My study,” he intoned proudly. “We’ll talk here.”

His study was much, much nicer than any other room in the fort, including the common areas. The walls were paneled and polished to a shine. A large desk stood to one side, its surface neat as a pin. The wall behind it was adorned with a glass case displaying evidence of the General’s prestige—medals, certificates, and a few carefully framed photos.

None of the images featured the man himself. The ones propped up on the desk showed a dark-haired woman smiling as she embraced two cherubic children. This, I assumed, was his family, only he wasn’t included at all. Again, my brain tried to rationalize this away. Some dudes preferred to be behind the camera. Maybe he’d cropped himself out to look humble.

“Have a scotch.” The general stood at a portable bar cart with a bottle in his hand. He had already set out two glasses, and the mouth of the bottle hovered over one. He began to pour, and the amber liquid curled into the bottom of the glass. He gestured for me to take it while he poured another. “I propose a toast, to new beginnings.”

We clinked our glasses. “It’s a nice thought,” I said, “but I’d rather not speak too soon. We’ve only been here less than a day.”

“Ah, yes, but I’ll bet it’s been the safest day in recent memory.” His eyes sparkled “You have nothing to fear from within Fort Sigel, my dear. Our defenses are impenetrable, even to the foul beasts roaming the wild. You’re very lucky to have happened upon us.”

I took a sip of the scotch. It was smooth and incredibly strong. The heat of it left a trail down my throat. “How did you get here?” I asked him.

His laugh boomed out from his chest. “Me? I’ve always been here. Well, not always, I suppose. I was stationed overseas for a time, back when I was a much younger man. I enjoyed it immensely, and I was good enough at it that they blessed me with my own command.” A dreamy expression overtook his whole face, contrasting with the roughness of his features. “Those were my glory days, I tell you. Nothing but me, my boys, and the things we could carry on our backs.” He sighed. “Like all good things, too sweet to last. I got promoted to a desk job when I came back stateside. Lousy promotion, if you ask me, but it let me move up quickly. Now, I’m getting old, and they put me out to pasture in Fort Sigel.”

“Do you miss the more active work?” I asked, mostly to be polite.

“Years ago, I did. I missed it something fierce. It scratched an itch that doesn’t get satisfied by pushing papers. But as I said, I’m getting on in years, and I’ve learned to appreciate the value of an easy gig.” At this point, the laughter lost some of its boisterous mirth and turned dry. “That’s what this was, up until now.” The grin faltered and came back twice as strong. “But there’s no better place to be when all hell breaks loose. If need be, we could weather our way through nuclear Armageddon in here.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Really?” Despite the fort’s indisputable sturdiness, that claim felt like a stretch.

The general slapped the top of his desk for emphasis, making the family photos jump in their frames. “Didn’t I tell you this place was built as a haven against disaster?”

I glanced around. “Yeah, but what precautions are there, other than guards? We’re not dealing only with other humans out there.”

“That’s all been accounted for,” the man responded a little smugly. “Your concern is admirable but unwarranted in this case.” His tone suggested that he would have patted me on the head under different circumstances. “Not to worry, Vic. Everyone in our care is perfectly safe. More so than the rest of the country, most likely. Your people should feel free to remain as long as they like and recover at their leisure. We won’t run out of space or supplies anytime soon.” He downed the rest of his scotch and set the drained glass on the desk.

“That’s very generous,” I said.

“It is the very least I can do to help my fellow man.” He puffed his chest out. “After all, Fort Sigel is a post-apocalyptic utopia. I owe it to humanity to share our good fortune.”

His unrelenting effervescence finally started to put me off a little. In the interest of politeness, I finished my drink in one strong gulp and placed the glass beside his on the desktop. “Thanks for the chat, General. You’ve certainly given me a lot to consider.”

“Consider nothing.” He had not stopped grinning. “The wisest course of action is to stay here, where no harm can possibly come to you. I strongly encourage you to set up a permanent base at Fort Sigel. Your people love it here. Give them a chance to be happy.”

I left the meeting with the vague but persistent impression that something was not right. The man had acted like he was trying to sell me a timeshare in the Poconos as if the Forgotten were all but nonexistent. His demeanor didn’t sit well with me at all. When I got back to my room, I paced beside the bare walls. “Marcus? What do you think?”

He is not trustworthy. No military leader worth his salt would act with that sort of cavalier disregard to the Forgotten threat. I fear that something is very wrong.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Me too. But I can’t put my finger on it yet. You think he could be Forgotten?”

The General? Impossible. I would have deduced his true nature immediately. He hesitated. That said, Forgotten have powers beyond the scope of my detection. It is possible that even my finely-honed senses cannot guarantee their absence.

“Take everything you say with a grain of salt.” I fell back on the bed, letting one arm drop across my eyes. “Got it.”

Unfortunately, yes. The well of Forgotten power has many hidden depths.

“Don’t we all,” I muttered. On my way toward a deep, hard-earned sleep, I thought of Luis sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, looking out the window. He had warned me not to trust anyone, and at the time, I thought he was merely a cynic.

Now, I wondered if he had the right idea after all.

Chapter Twenty-One

The sleep I got that night was less than ideal, full of tossing and turning and restless thoughts. If not for the strength of the nectar in my blood, I would’ve been dead on my feet the next morning. Still, I was glad to see the sun because I had a couple of important things to do.

Step one: find some coffee. If this fort really was a version of utopia, they would have goddamn coffee. That turned out to be easy. I smelled it as soon as I opened my door.

Step two: find Deacon St. Clare. I hadn’t seen him since leaving to take my shower, much like I had seen neither hide nor hair of Dan. My coffee cup in hand, I moved through the crowd in the mess hall, searching for broad shoulders filling out a suit. I also listened for a hint of his low, smooth voice, which I knew I could pick out from a mile away. Deacon was distinct from the general raggedness of Fort Sigel’s inhabitants. At least, he was to me.

Nonetheless, it took a while to find him in the breakfast rush. He sat by himself at a table off to the side, scanning the room over the rim of a mug. I dropped into a chair across from him. “Morning,” I said. “How’d you sleep?”

Deacon smiled. “Hey, Vic. I wondered where you ran off to. Get into anything interesting without me?”

I gave him a look. “I should ask you the same question. Or we could find Dan and ask him.”

His face grew somber. “Good idea. He’s been MIA since yesterday.” He scanned the room one more time and lowered his voice. “Listen, I have some serious misgivings about this place, but I can’t tell you why. I don’t have any solid reasons for it, only a weird, bad feeling about the way things are shaking out.”

“I’ve got proof,” I told him. “Sort of. Well, it’s better than nothing.”

Deacon’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward across the table. “Lay it on me. I’ll take anything you’ve got.”

I started by recounting the circumstances of the late-night meeting I had with the general. I told him about the man’s bizarre nonchalance and his supreme confidence in the fort’s security, even against the gods. I mentioned the strange family pictures without him in them, and I retold the miniature version of his life story. “Overseas, came back to a desk job, climbed the ladder, and got transferred to Fort Sigel after all that. He said it’s been pretty cushy until now.”

My companion shook his head. “I’d believe that last part, but anything before that sounds like pure bullshit to me. I’m not a soldier myself, but I’ve worked with plenty of them, and I know that’s not how the military works. You don’t simply get put on a desk or transferred to the command of a fort, especially not one this big. There are all kinds of internal processes for this stuff.” He stared into the depths of his mug. “He was lying. He must have been. But why?”

It was a damn good question, and it brought up others in my mind. I told Deacon about my attempt to case the secret government building out near the garden and being caught by a group of soldiers in hiking boots and fatigues that didn’t fit them. “They didn’t act like soldiers,” I said. “More like guys walking me home from school. I’m not sure if they have any formal training at all.”

“If they do, it’s not a lot,” Deacon said. “Have you seen how they hold their guns?” He bunched his arms up against his chest, mimicking a clutching motion. “I’ve never seen any self-respecting officer hold a gun like that.”

I nodded. “Even I wouldn’t hold a gun that way, and I fight with a sword.”

“Which we desperately need to get back,” Deacon said. “We gave our stuff up in good faith, and I think at the time, it was the right thing to do, but I don’t like where this is going. I hate walking around this place unarmed. It feels like they tricked us into a cage.” He grimaced. “There were tons of institutions that were infiltrated back in the city. I’d say it’s more than possible they came here too.”

I scowled. “I think we need to assume the worst-case scenario here. If we’re wrong, great. We’ll all laugh about our paranoia as we sip cocktails with our new buddies. But if we’re right, we need to be prepared for when the shit hits the fan. With that in mind, what can we do? We don’t have our weapons, and we don’t have any solid proof to show our people. They won’t want to leave based purely on our doubts.”

Deacon sighed deeply, and his shoulders slumped. “Agreed. They have everything they need right here. Food, shelter, showers, and real beds. This place has everything we promised them it would. Even if they believe something is off with the general, they probably still wouldn’t leave.”

We stared at each other, each trying to find a solution to the impossible situation at hand. During the silence, Veronica joined us at the table. “Hey.” Her normally warm, cheerful voice had a tense edge. “You guys look like you’re talking business. Let me drop this status report on you.”

I brought my coffee to my lips. “Go for it, Big Red.”

She spared me a brief smile at the nickname. “Well, people freaking love it here, man. I haven’t ever seen them this happy. They’re warm, they’re fed, and they’re all settling into their own little nests. Some of them are starting to take on odd jobs around the fort. The kids have places to play.” She looked at us uneasily. “We should be overjoyed about this.”

“But?” I prompted.

“But I feel nervous as shit.” Veronica exhaled slowly. “Tell me why I can’t be happy about everything that’s going on. I really hoped this would solve all our problems, and I mean, it looks like it has.”

Without any preamble, I filled her in on the latest General-related details. When I was done, she scowled mightily. “You gotta be kidding me. No wonder I thought he was such a skeevy creep.” She sat back on the bench, tossing the mane of red hair that hung down to her waist. “How do we fix this? There has to be a way. Only, everyone loves this guy. They think he’s a savior, for obvious reasons. We can’t tell them none of it is true. We need proof.”

I made a fist on the table and squeezed, venting my frustration. “What the fuck, why not? What if I stood up in front of everyone right now, like I did back at the safehouse, and told them we needed to leave? It worked the first time.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Vic,” the agent said. He fiddled with the stirrer sticking out of his mug. “Last time, they didn’t have a choice—it was follow you or die like fish in a barrel. That’s not the case anymore. These people don’t know what we know. To them, the general is the best thing since damn sliced bread. They’re not gonna budge simply because you tell them to. In fact, I think you’d get booed out of here.”

“Come on.” I frowned at him. “They thank me left and right for getting them out of New York. As far as they know, I’m the reason they’re still alive today. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“It did before they got here,” Deacon responded. “Now, everyone feels safe, though. You’ve done your job, so they don’t need to listen to you anymore. You’re merely some badass vigilante with a sword. There’s no place for that here.”

I groaned. “I want what’s best for all of us. That’s why I agreed to haul ass out of New York in the first place.”

“I know that,” he replied soothingly. “We all know that, Vic. That’s why we stick by you through thick and thin. But everyone else needs stability. They feel safest when there’s something familiar they can hold onto, like a regiment or a routine. The military is all about that.”

“For what it’s worth,” Veronica chimed in, “I think Deacon’s right, but it’s complete and utter bullshit. I guarantee they’d follow you if you were a man. Hell, they’d follow Deacon sooner.” She huffed and rolled her eyes.

“I’m not the boss here,” the agent said quickly. “Vic’s run this circus since day one.”

Veronica smirked. “Good answer.”

I snorted. “You’re right, Veronica, and when I have time to think about it, I’ll be pissed. But right now, we have to find out what’s what. And if my fears are confirmed, we need proof. Enough to convince the others that the danger inside these walls is greater than the danger outside.”

“That’s a tall order.” She watched me with her sage-green eyes, running her fingers through her hair. “If you’ve got any ideas, I’m all ears.”

It was my turn to smirk. “Actually, I think I know exactly where to start.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

After breakfast, what seemed like every civilian in the fort was herded into the common rooms and divided into groups to help prepare for the feast. Assigned to decoration duty, I marched back to the feast hall with a chatty gaggle of mostly women. If anyone has seen my old loft in Brooklyn, they wouldn’t have trusted me to decorate a damn thing.

Our first major task involved cleaning up the meal that had just finished, which was fine by me. It gave me a chance to scope out more of the fort’s less-accessible areas.

Very quickly, I learned that the general really wasn’t kidding when he said they had everything they needed at Fort Sigel. From what I could see as I stacked dishes at the serving window, the kitchen stretched far back into the bowels of the building. The door to a storage room stood open beyond the industrial ovens, its interior shelves lined with non-perishable items. Refrigerator and freezer units hummed steadily in the background while I worked.

My natural desire to pursue any and all intel about a given location urged me to find a way to sneak off and scope things out, but I couldn’t. Not only was the place teeming with people who could see me without even trying, but we already had a plan in motion.

Actually, the mess hall was the perfect place for me. It enabled me to keep an eye out for the others and watch things in general. Thus far, it looked like everyone was so busy following instructions that we might not have needed our grand distraction after all.

A smiling middle-aged woman walked up to me as I turned away from the kitchen window and dumped rolls of streamers into my arms. “Do me a favor and hang these up, will you, sweetie? Make it like bunting if you could. Nice and festive. There’s a stepladder over in the corner there.” She fished out some double-sided tape from the pocket of her apron. “Here you go, dear. Have fun. Don’t be afraid to get creative.”

I didn’t know the first fucking thing about bunting, but I smiled and accepted the task. The last birthday party I’d been to with streamers had been like ten years ago, and I hadn’t been involved in the decorations. I was only there for the cake and ice cream.

Determined to remain inconspicuous, I headed for the wall, grabbed the stepladder, and got to work taping crepe paper to the sterile white paint of the hall. My streamers hung like saggy old-man balls—wrinkled, uneven, and flopping around every which way. Whatever. I was a god-killer, not a fucking interior decorator.

Nearby, a bunch of families had been roped into making centerpieces at a long table, and as I got closer, I recognized a few of the couples.

“Hey,” I called from my stepladder perch as I secured more shitty-looking streamers. “Nice to see you guys. How are you doing?”

When they realized who I was, they all smiled broadly. The general air of happiness and relief was catching on like fire. I hadn’t seen so many people this relaxed since before the Forgotten showed up in force. Their contentment was as heartbreaking as my decorations. They had no idea how much danger they were in. It only intensified my resolve to get to the bottom of things.

“Isn’t this place awesome?” one of the men asked. His grin, sheathed in a shaggy woodsman’s beard, stretched from ear to ear. “I’m glad as hell we found it. Not sure I could have taken another week of sleeping on mud and rocks.” He nudged his wife. “Right, Mandy? Those nights were getting pretty nippy.”

She laughed as if the whole thing was comparable to a bad vacation. “Oh, my gosh, I thought my toes would fall off. I can’t believe that was only two days ago, and now we’re preparing for a banquet.” She beamed at me. “It’s all so exciting. Things have turned around for us so much in such a short time. I feel like we’ve been blessed.” She attached a neatly folded paper flower to a stem and stuck it into the empty vase on the table beside her.

Her husband raised his eyebrows. “I’ll be happy as long as we’re not waking up to bodies in the camp,” he said bluntly.

Mandy swatted his arm, her expression disapproving. “Theo, don’t talk like that.”

He shrugged. “What? The situation’s changed. We’re obviously not in danger anymore. I might as well say what I think.”

She rolled her large dark eyes. “Please excuse him. He likes to play the pessimist.”

“Oh, come on.” Theo’s flower was not as delicate as his wife’s, but he gave it to her to put in the vase anyway. She took one look at it and began to fuss over the folds. He glanced at me. “All I’m saying is that I’m glad to be out of range of whatever killed people back in the forest.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Me too.” Neither of us mentioned how the murders were never solved—that elephant was still in the room—but things were so comparatively good at Fort Sigel that nobody seemed to care. The hardships were fading rapidly into memories.

Maybe too rapidly. I went back to hanging streamers with a churning in my gut. I was itching to move on more than usual, and I wished I had some way to communicate with my team. “Marcus,” I whispered. “Can you call the crew?”

To rectify the hideous display you have adhered to the walls? I believe there is no hope for that.

I rolled my eyes. “Real fucking funny, old man. I’d like to see you do a better job. Oh, wait. You no longer have a body.”

Even without hands, I believe I could do a superior job.

I laughed. “Okay, I deserved that, but can you please focus? I need to talk to my friends, and I can’t leave. Can you, like, psychically call them?”

The only one with whom I have practiced such communication is Maya, and she remains on an auxiliary assignment. I doubt that the call would be detectable in an area as energy-dense as this to the untrained mind.

“Damn,” I muttered. “It was worth a shot.”

I applaud the evolution in your thinking, he said. Unlike your depressing attempts at creating a festive atmosphere.

“Goddammit, Marcus, I’m trying,” I said.

And failing.

I chuckled at his ball-breaking comments as I made my way along the wall, taping streamers as delicately as I could. I wanted to hang one nice-looking streamer so I could throw it in my centurion friend’s face, but the task was infinitely more difficult since I kept glancing around the mess hall. I hoped to catch a glimpse of Steph or Veronica signaling that our plan was moving forward. Then, all I had to do was open a certain door.

Five minutes passed. Then ten. At the fifteen-minute mark, jitters kicked up in my chest, and a dozen worst-case scenarios ran through my head. The general must have been onto us from the beginning. He’d intercepted them while they were setting up our little scheme, and now, he would come for me. On instinct, I put my hand to my belt. The Gladius Solis was still not there.

I cringed, remembering that the officer, my current Public Enemy Number One, had duped me out of it before I’d even set foot inside the fort. If the whole operation went south from there, I had no one to blame but myself.

Eyes up, Victoria. Our allies are entering.

My roll of streamers was about to run out. “Perfect timing,” I said, taping the end haphazardly and hopping down off the ladder.

Veronica’s intense head of hair stood out, bobbing in my general direction. I angled myself so we would “just happen” to cross paths on my way to return the stepladder to its corner.

She smiled and winked when she saw me. “Ready to get this show on the road?” she asked.

“Understatement of the year,” I told her.

She glanced at the wall behind me and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, what’s going on with these decorations?”

“Shut it, Big Red,” I said through gritted teeth. “Where’s Frank?”

She brought her focus back to the task at hand. “In position with the double payload. We briefed him on everything. He’s very excited.”

I snorted. “All right. I’m gonna go pull the pin.”

We separated. I weaved my way toward the door on the right and saw that Steph had beaten me there. She gave me a look of subtle inquiry, and I nodded.

In one quick motion, so fast I almost didn’t see it, she flashed her hand out and pulled the door ajar. Instantly, the air filled with wild bleating as the blurred shape of a baby goat rocketed into the hall.

For about a second, the intrusion went more or less unnoticed. Then a gruff voice bellowed out, “Hey! Get back here, you ugly little devil. Jeezum Crow!”

Frank barreled in, his jowly face bright red from exertion, wheezing like a freight train. He was hot on the heels of a second goat that took to its new freedom with unrestrained joy, tearing through the busy throng.

“Ah, shit.” The mobster stumbled forward, catching the edge of his hat as it tumbled off his head. Laughter and screams of surprise and delight pierced the general hubbub.

“Excuse me,” he said, wading into the crowd. “Excuse me. Pardon me, ma’am. I’m sorry, sir. Goat problems. You understand.” He made a grab for the first goat as it streaked past his knees, but he missed and toppled over. Frank lay sprawled on his ample stomach on the floor, and his face turned even redder. “Damn it to hell. Don’t make me chase you.”

The goats disobeyed gleefully and slalomed between table legs, their hooves clattering on the tile. A crowd formed inside the crowd. The large man pushed himself to his feet and lunged after his fleeing livestock. He was neither aerodynamic nor graceful, and the limited space didn’t allow him much freedom of movement. Tables and benches flew across the floor with surprising force. I could hear him shouting like a freight train, swearing up a storm. For the moment, the thought of children’s innocent ears had slipped the mobster’s mind.

“Why’d it have to be fuckin’ goats? You smelly little shits. I’d shoot ya if I had my gun.”

The kids, of course, found this whole scene utterly hilarious. I watched until he knocked a whole table over with his lurching super strength, then I slipped away unnoticed through the exit. Someone else waited for me outside in the hall.

“Sounds like Frank got a real party started in there,” Deacon remarked. “I’m kind of sorry we have to miss it.”

“With any luck, we’ll be back before he catches them,” I said. “Let’s get out of here. That old war room won’t break and enter itself.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Still no sign of Dan or his boys?” I asked on the way. Since the whole fort had been commissioned to help with the feast, the halls were mercifully empty. Still, we stuck as much to the shadows as we could, just in case.

“Not one.” Deacon frowned. “I have a real bad feeling about all this shit, Vic.”

“That’s why we’re on our way to figure it out,” I said. We picked the pace up a little, and in a matter of minutes, we slipped out the side door near the garden. “Keep an eye out for guards. They can really sneak up on you.”

The watchtowers were also a concern, but there wasn’t anything we could do about those. We made ourselves as small as possible and darted across the vacant yard. The close-cropped grass made practically no sound beneath our feet.

“How is this going down?” Deacon asked softly once we were within a few yards of the abandoned building’s wall. He looked closely at the chained front door. “That’s a pretty serious lock. Too bad you—” He stopped short and pressed his lips together.

“Too bad I what?” I demanded under my breath, side-eyeing the shit out of him. “Too bad I willingly surrendered my magic sword that would’ve cut through this in a second?”

“Those are your words, not mine,” he answered.

I huffed. “Hindsight is twenty-twenty, jackass.” He chuckled and stopped when I said, “Bet you I don’t even need the sword anyway.”

“Oh, so you’re the Hulk now, too? Well, Hulk-smash this fucker already.” He followed me toward the door.

“Watch your back,” I warned. “They got me right around here last time. The towers are manned.”

Deacon glanced over his shoulder, his brows knitted. “How much personnel does this bastard have?” he muttered.

I tuned him out and shook my hands to loosen them up, rolling my wrists in anticipation. The chain was old and rusty, oxidizing in places from constant exposure to the elements. The coarse surface grated on my palms. I took a deep breath, drew all my strength inward, and channeled it down my arms.

May the nectar of Carcerum guide you, Marcus intoned sagely.

“If this doesn’t work,” I replied, “I’ll look stupid as hell. And I’m gonna be pissed.”

At my back, Deacon said, “Whoa, wait, are you for real?”

Instead of answering him, I clenched my teeth and pulled with all my might. At first, the natural response to the limit of my human strength was pain. Undaunted, I tightened my grip and squeezed my eyes shut. Then I felt the nectar kick in like a car’s turbo engine, and raw energy hummed through my veins. The thick chain scraped against the door. It began to strain in my grasp. I stifled the urge to emit an earth-shattering war cry or to howl at the moon.

“Damn,” Deacon whispered.

Another breath poured into my lungs. Images of the overturned bus in New York City splashed across the inside of my eyelids. I had lifted the whole side of that thing, so breaking this chain ought to be a piece of cake. The links creaked and groaned. Heat seemed to sizzle off my skin. Each second went on forever until I finally heard it—the thunderous, telltale snap of victory.

“Yes!” The chain went slack in my hands, and I dropped it to the grass. As I opened my eyes, I noticed a faint, radiant glow fading from my arms. The giddy rush of dopamine into my brain made me want to kick a car in half. I was pumped. I turned around and grinned at my companion. “Now who’s the fucking Hulk?”

“Holy shit.” He eyed the broken lengths of chain at my feet. “Remind me not to make you angry. God damn.”

“I knew you’d like it. Let’s go.” Placing one hand on the newly unburdened door, I pushed it open gently, peering around into the room. A faint smell of must invaded my nose.

“Hey, you got a light?” I asked. The whole swordless excursion made me realize how much I’d come to rely on the Gladius Solis. Weapon, all-purpose demolisher, ambient torch—it was basically Kronin’s Swiss army knife.

My friend stepped up beside me and pressed the button on his Maglite, flooding the chamber with a bright white cone. “See? You need me for something after all.”

“Duh, I need someone to be impressed by my feats of strength,” I retorted. It was sort of fun to be one-on-one with Deacon again, just the two of us, like co-stars in a buddy-cop movie. Not that I would ever have admitted it to him.

That brief feeling of levity quickly evaporated when I looked around the inside of the building. I’d expected something official—a long table emblazoned with a crest and screens and maps covering the walls. There was none of that. All we saw were cobwebs and piles of boxes.

“This is a warehouse,” I said out loud. “What the hell?” We moved deeper into the room in sync, Deacon sweeping his light into the corners. “Why did he tell me it was top brass only?”

“Let’s check the boxes,” he suggested. “It could have more to do with what’s inside them.”

I shook my head. “No, I knew it. That old prick was lying out his ass the whole time.” The creeping suspicion that something was fishy exploded into full-blown certainty. “No way would there be a war room separate from the actual fortress in a place like this.”

Agreed, said Marcus. He must have assumed that your lack of military experience would lead you to believe whatever he said. The title of general does imbue his words with a certain weight. His tone grew dismissive. It does not, however, transform this act of fraud into truth.

“Why would he lie about it, though? He could have simply said it was extra storage.” I walked to one of the boxes and folded back the top flaps. Dry rations were stacked inside. Other containers had water, linen sets, batteries. “Yeah, these are all more supplies. That’s, like, the least weird thing for him to have in here.”

“I don’t know about that,” Deacon countered. “Strange that they’d be out here, so far away from the rest of the fort. If there were an emergency and people were trapped in the main building, all of these would be out of reach.” He studied the boxes. “There’s enough room in the main complex to store these in a more accessible location, even if they’re in a corner somewhere. That seems like the most logical thing to do.”

“Maybe this is a contingency plan?” I suggested. “In case the opposite scenario happened and everyone had to leave the fort?”

“I doubt it.” The agent shook his head. “The guy seems to think you could drop an atom bomb on this place and it’d be fine. He doesn’t have any contingencies. I don’t think he’s a general, either.”

“True, but he could have been saying all that to try to make us feel safe,” I said, rifling through more boxes as I talked. The fourth one I opened had a host of glass tubes in it, each one labeled with the word “ricin” on the side. They were filled with a fine white powder.

Deacon stopped short when he saw it. “Don’t touch that,” he commanded suddenly. “Put the lid back on and close the box.”

I gave him a look. “Relax. It’s probably cocaine or something.” The joke didn’t register on his face. “What is ricin even? Sounds made up.”

“It’s poison,” he said, still watching the tubes like a hawk. “Close that thing, Vic. I’m serious. That stuff makes cyanide look like a joke. A few grains of it will kill you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Well, then.” The lid went back onto the box of poison, and I made sure it was tight. “Remind me to wash my hands.”

“It wouldn’t do any good,” he said.

“Well, shit.”

“I’ve never seen so much of it in one place,” Deacon said. “Usually, it’s wives using it to kill their husbands. That amount could waste an entire city.”

“Jim Jones’s wet dream,” I quipped, half smiling. Then the smile fell off my face. “Oh shit, Deacon.”

He had the same thought at the same time. “The feast,” he said, staring at me. “That nutty bastard wants us all to drink the Kool-Aid.”

“Fuck!” I jumped to my feet and turned to bolt for the door. “We have to get back and warn the others.” The eye of Deacon’s Maglite swung around to track me, but it stopped short.

“Oh, no,” the agent murmured. The second he said it, I saw what he was talking about. The general, flanked by a faction of goons, stood blocking our path. His wide, toothy grin gave off a mocking gleam.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said. “Where do you think you’re running off to, my dear?” He motioned for his men to advance on both sides. They all had their fingers on the triggers of loaded guns. The closest thing to a weapon between Deacon and I was the flashlight in his hand. The General laughed. “That’s right, Vic. Your fancy sword was the only thing that got you this far, and you handed it over to me without so much as a question.”

I glared, looking him dead in the eye. Every cell in my body wanted to fight, to go apeshit on these assholes with the steadfast belief that things would work themselves out somehow. But I knew that without the sword, I stood no chance of protecting both myself and Deacon. Worse, if we died out there, no one would be able to stop this madman from poisoning everyone we’d promised to keep safe.

“Fine,” I said at last, forcing the word from my throat. “You win.” I raised my hands, palms out, to confirm that I was unarmed. A moment later, the Maglite went out as Deacon did the same.

The general let out another self-satisfied chortle that made me want to punch him in his stupid fucking face. “And to think I’d heard you were so unreasonable.” He gestured to his men. “Tie them up, boys. You know where to take the riffraff.” He watched as they twisted our arms behind our backs.

I never took my eyes off him. He never stopped smiling.

Chapter Twenty-Four

While the goon squad moved into position to take Deacon and me away, I geared myself up for the inevitable humiliation of being returned to the fort as captives. I wondered how long it would take the others to notice that we were gone and what crazy stunt they might try to pull to find us.

Maybe if we picked a fight as soon as we got back into the fort, we could jumpstart an impromptu rebellion. Then I remembered the conversation our team had recently had about how the survivors craved stability and safety above all else. As much as I hated to acknowledge it, there was a strong likelihood that my former allies would assume we were turncoats being justifiably punished. Or they would convince themselves that was the truth, anyway.

Still, I prepared myself ready to raise hell at the first opportunity, but the lackeys didn’t take us to the fort. They didn’t even take us outside. The biggest, burliest goon grabbed Deacon by his restraints and hauled him across the room to a door in the opposite corner that I hadn’t noticed. Someone else got behind me, shoving from behind.

“What, no blindfold?” I asked coolly. “I thought those were complimentary with every kidnapping.”

The general’s laugh boomed out like a clap of thunder. “Any other day, that wit might be enough to earn you mercy. You’re an exceptionally funny pain in my ass.” He sighed. “If you must know, it’s simple. There’s no blindfold because it doesn’t matter what you see. You’ll never have the opportunity to describe it to anyone else.” The door was oddly incongruous in comparison to the rest of the room as if it had been added later as an afterthought. It was shorter than the main entryway—Deacon, the general, and several of the goons had to duck down a little bit to get in. My own head barely cleared the top of the frame.

The stiflingly narrow passage beyond required single-file marching, and as the grade of the floor sloped increasingly downward, I began to smell a putrid, rotten stench. The goon prodding my back stopped to pull a mask up over his face. The farther down we went, the worse it got. By the time the corridor opened into a cave-like basement, the thick air was stinging my eyes.

The general stopped at the end of the chamber and turned to face us with the flair of a performer greeting his long-awaited audience. He spread his arms wide in the same magnanimous gesture he’d used when we first arrived. Now, it was a bad omen, no longer a sign of hope. “These are your new quarters,” he announced. “Like them? You’ll spend your last hours here until we’re ready for you in the main hall.”

“I know what you’re planning, General,” I said, locking my gaze onto his. The warmth had fled from his eyes but not the fire. He stared back, unblinking. “It’s too late. I saw the ricin.”

“Too late?” The man guffawed. I was sick of that sound. “My child, there is no possible way you could know the extent of my plans. I was adrift, directionless, lost in abyssal despair before the gods arrived. But, of course, you can’t comprehend what that’s like, can you?”

“Sure,” I said, through gritted teeth. “You were a loser. I get it.”

His façade of benevolent normalcy was in tatters. He barely looked like the same person. The rounded gut still bulged against his uniform, but his face had transformed into something lean and sharp. A hunter seconds before the kill.

“In a sense, you’re right,” he said. “I lost everything. My wife, my sons and daughters, my congregation. Being driven in disgrace out of the only life you’ve ever known—indeed, the only one you ever wanted—is a pain that is truly unique. No one cared that it was she who committed the original sin, as foretold by the book of our Lord. She got the house, the children, and all that I had built with my own two hands. The day she locked the door behind me was the day my life went up in smoke.”

I stole a glance at Deacon to make sure we’d heard the same insane drivel. He had long since given up the effort to maintain his stoic FBI-agent poker face. Now, he regarded the other man with a mix of open disbelief, anger, and pity. “Man,” he said. “What the fuck are you babbling about?”

That is my sentiment as well, Marcus chimed in. This man is clearly not in a hurry, but perhaps he should be for all our sakes.

“Save your breath,” the general said with a sneer. “I need not remind you that as long as you remain trussed up like turkeys in my own personal dungeon, I can do with you what I please. And truth be told, I want to savor this moment of total victory a little longer.” He began to pace back and forth in front of us, taking long, measured strides. Whenever he met a wall, he’d pivot precisely on his heel. “You see, I have waited for this moment since the gods rewrote my destiny.”

I rolled my eyes. “I wish they’d written you a shorter monologue.”

His face contorted into a disturbingly impish expression. It was almost like a mask, the skin capable of twisting into whatever grotesque caricature of humanity he chose. “Vic, my dear, don’t you see? You’re the one who’s slashed at the knees of the colossi.” He shook his head. “In a world as cruel and unthinkable as this, death is the greatest gift. The gods have come to grant us freedom from our wretched plane. I am simply a facilitator.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “But maybe start with yourself first.”

Deacon ignored my comment. “You’re sick,” he interjected. “That’s what you are. Look at you, a damn soldier! You swore an oath.”

“And that is where you’re wrong, my friend. You came to this place seeking soldiers to defend you.” The general stopped pacing. He backed into the shadows. A bare lightbulb flickered to life above him, dousing his sturdy physique in yellow light and revealing the mountainous blue tarps that lined the chamber. “I’m no soldier. I was a pastor, once upon a time. And I served God faithfully until He abandoned me. Those were dark days.” The terrible smile turned into a grimace. “All was lost. I could no longer see the light. But then, the truth arrived—the real gods, who showed me that I had only ever pretended to worship before.” He paused in his stride, directing his gaze upward. “Penitence was necessary, of course. And what better way to repent than to sacrifice in the way of the ancients?” The grin returned. “No, my boy. I am not a soldier.” He reached back, grasped the edge of a tarp, and whipped it up with a flourish. “These are your soldiers.”

The smell of decay became overbearing. I fought back my gag reflex. Deacon fell silent. His whole posture seethed with such palpable rage that I half expected the goons around him to keel over.

“There, there,” the General told him. “No need to look so upset. It would have been useless to make these men suffer. They died easily in their sleep.”

“How’d you get them to let you in?” I asked, stalling. The story he told was repulsive, but it gave me time to think.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I was a man of the cloth in my other life. Naturally, they assumed that the disciples I had gathered, others who had seen the light, were the remnants of my flock, and we deserved to be saved.” A shadow of something like sorrow passed briefly across his face. “If only they’d let us save them in return. We tried to bring them into the fold, but they resisted. They gave me no choice.”

“This is monstrous,” Deacon growled.

The crazed man paid him no mind. “After those poor fools were dead, we moved the bodies, put on their clothes, and sent out the safety signal. The only hitch in our perfect plan was that at first, nobody came. But now you’re here. You and your band of lost souls, seeking asylum from a world torn asunder.” A dreamy look descended on his lean features. “The gods could have freed you if you let them. Now, I will free you on their behalf.”

“So that’s why you got rid of Dan,” I said suddenly. “Because he would have known within a day that you were faking.” The revelation spawned a cold dread in my stomach. “Where is he? Dead?” Though the thought pained me, I kept my tone flat and unemotional. We were playing a power game, where weakness equaled defeat.

The general smirked. “Clever girl. No, they await their ultimate fate as you do, bound in a cell, surrounded by the corpses of their brethren. Why spill blood early when it could serve a greater purpose?”

I frowned. “What kind of purpose? You going to lead a modern Crusade? I hate to tell you, but those gods you venerate? They’re nothing more than monsters.”

“My sweet foolish child,” the general said almost kindly. He took his hat off and ran a hand over the top of his dome. “There is no difference between gods and monsters. None at all. You’ll see that soon enough.”

He knows not of what he speaks, Marcus declared. The loss of his human life has driven him to fill the void with unspeakable atrocities.

“Then why are you doing this?” I asked.

The general grimaced. “Because they are right about this forsaken world.” He spoke almost in a whisper. “It deserves to burn.” He stood motionless for a second or two, staring at empty air. Reeking pools of rancid blood coagulated at his feet. “The preparations were complete before you arrived. Something is on its way, full of power and inimitable grace.”

A flash of recognition seared through my mind. I saw Maya in the teepee and heard her voice.

Killer cats. Apex predators. At that moment, I knew for sure—we weren’t dealing with bobcats.

“I sense it as surely as I breathe the sweet air of redemption,” the madman continued. He closed his eyes, drank in the moment, and smiled serenely. “You are simply the final perfect touch.”

He strode past me, beckoning his henchmen to follow. We were left in the tomb of a cellar, alone, unarmed, and suffocating in an atmosphere of decay.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Deacon strained against his bindings with all his ability. His mouth was set in a hard line, and every time the ropes resisted his attempts to break free, he scowled. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. I had never seen him so close to losing his cool. “That fucking scumbag traitor,” he muttered, his voice dripping with venom.

“Hey,” I said. “Chill out for like two seconds. That crazy fucker will get what’s coming to him.”

“How can you know that for sure?” He had managed to get his arms partway from behind his back, but the knots at his wrists wouldn’t budge any farther. “Right now, it feels like he’s about to get off scot-free after murdering and impersonating the staff of an entire military base.”

“To hear him tell it, he gave them the gift of death,” I said. “He’s like a shitty Santa Claus.”

Deacon stopped struggling for a moment and looked at me. “That’s not funny.”

I sighed. “No, I suppose it’s not.” I nudged him gently, teasingly, hoping to calm him down so he could think straight. “You know, this kind of reminds me of the last time we were tied up together. Remember how much fun that was?”

He snorted. “Fun for you, maybe. As I recall, I was the only one tied up in that fleabag motel. And I was the only one without any clothes on.”

I smirked at the memory of his flabbergasted face the moment he’d realized I was really leaving him at the mercy of housekeeping. “That’s technically true, but I mean, I was there. It was still a joint activity.” I paused. “Besides, it was for your own good.”

“I would have begged to differ at the time,” he answered. Once more, he tugged futilely at the rope. “Dammit, where did they get this stuff? It barely has any give at all.”

“Relax,” I told him. “All you’re gonna do is give yourself some nasty rope burn. There are way better ways to do that.”

We were huddled up at a weird angle to each other, shoulder blade to shoulder blade. All his frustrated tension radiated into me like a slow-moving brick wall. For once, Deacon St. Clare was a ball of stress and nervous energy, and he couldn’t settle down to save his life. Every second we sat in that dark, nauseating dungeon, he kept trying to outsmart the rope somehow. With each consecutive unsuccessful strategy, I started to wonder if he might do more harm than good.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I need to get my hands—”

“Seriously, Deacon. Be cool. You’re going to cut your circulation off.” I laughed. “You can tell me if it bothers you to be this close to me.” I made a show of scooting half an inch in the opposite direction. “There, see? Don’t ever say I don’t know how to give you your personal space.”

Deacon twisted around to stare at me, evidently stunned into silence. Then he burst out laughing. “What the hell are you talking about, Vic?”

I shrugged. “Listen, here I was thinking we were finally getting some nice, quality bondage time—I mean, bonding time—and you’re trying to get away at the first opportunity. It’s a little hurtful. Can’t you take my emotions into consideration once in a while?” My straight face faltered in the middle of the last sentence, and we both cracked up. Deacon’s body relaxed against the ropes.

“Man, I don’t know how you do it.” He shook his head. “All this shit would probably have driven me out of my mind by now if I had to deal with it the way you do.”

I arched my brows at him. “Last I checked, you showed up to fights like everyone else. I’d say you’re dealing pretty efficiently.”

“There’s a difference between shooting at them and having to be the one to track them down and figure out the current problem and how best to take care of business. Don’t get me wrong. That was part of my job too, and I like to think I was good at it, but the FBI used to deal with strictly human shit—at least the parts of the Bureau that I saw. Every single thing that’s happened since we broke out of there has been outside my wheelhouse.”

“Thank God I’m leading, then,” I replied.

“That’s kind of what I’m getting at. A federal agent has to be their own leader, in a way. You get handed a case, and you’re expected to solve it. Doesn’t matter if the file’s incomplete or if it’s been cold for twenty years already. Details like that are part of the challenge, and with such a burden of responsibility, it’s easy to lose yourself in the obsession.”

“Don’t lecture me, dude,” I interrupted, a little tersely. “Marcus still has that covered. I don’t need it in stereo.”

My lectures happen to be entertaining and informative. You are very welcome.

“That’s not what I mean.” Deacon smiled wryly. “It’s like, this time, I don’t have to worry about any of that because you somehow manage to handle everything. Even when the whole damn city’s either falling down or on fire and gods are descending from the sky. You held your shit together, and now…” He paused, frowning. “Well, now we’re here. Maybe this was a bad example.”

I grinned. “I can see how you might think that, but no, I’ve got something for this, too.”

“Really?” He looked skeptical. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Right on cue, the entrance to the dungeon, which the general’s men had closed and locked behind them, busted open. A trail of smoke curled up from the glowing red crater that used to be the lock. Brax filled the doorframe with his hammer braced in his hands.

“Feel free to start believing any time,” I said.

Deacon barely kept his jaw from dropping. He glanced between the two of us as the demon advanced into the room. Brax’s nostrils flared at the oppressive stench. “I knew something was fucked about this,” he muttered. He hurried close and made short work of our ropes.

My hands and fingers tingled with the rush of returning blood. I shook them out. “Thank you. It might’ve been a while if you hadn’t been on standby.”

“I thought you left,” the man interjected, eyeing his rescuer warily. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but what are you doing back here?”

“Contingency plan,” I told the agent, covering my mouth and nose. “I didn’t have time to tell you before we got here, but I’m happy to fill you in after we get out of this death smog.”

“Agreed,” Brax grunted. “The smell reminds me of the food in Asphodel.”

He led us back up the ramp to the ground floor of the abandoned building. All was quiet. The general and his cronies appeared to have returned to the main fort. The three of us stood in a small cluster, none of us with our backs to the door or windows. We stayed out of the moonlight that striped the floor.

“It was back at the camp that he first brought it up,” I said, nodding to Brax. “He told me he didn’t really want to come to Fort Sigel, that the whole thing gave him a bad feeling. Plus, we had no idea how they’d react to us bringing a bona fide demon in. Obviously, I wasn’t willing to jeopardize our people by keeping them away from a potential stronghold, so we came up with a compromise. He’d pretend to leave the moment we arrived and before anyone from the fort had a chance to lay eyes on him. Then he’d infiltrate after we were inside. That gave us an ace in the hole for emergencies such as this one. Brilliant fucking job, by the way.”

Brax’s dour expression eased into a very brief smile that faded as fast as it had appeared. “High praise, but in fairness, this douchebag isn’t very subtle. I knew something was going down the second I saw you two slipping out. All I did was follow you here.” He shrugged. “No big deal.”

I must admit, it is sometimes wiser to dance with the devil than it is to risk his wrath, Marcus said. I held in an exasperated sigh. The old centurion would never get over his obsession with the Marked.

“Now what?” Deacon turned and looked down the ramp toward the dungeon. The smell of the bodies wasn’t noticeable up there, but if I searched for it, I could still detect the faintest hint. That basement of horrors had upped the ante big time. The general wasn’t a savior. He and his men were an infestation.

I pointed at the agent. “I need you to figure out where Dan and his crew are and get them out. Brax, you come with me to the main building. Go let everyone who’s anyone know what’s happening. Tell them not to eat or drink a single thing. Not anything. Not alcohol, not juice, not soda. Not even water. And tell them to get ready for a fight.”

“And then?” The lenses of his dark glasses fixed on my face. “We wait for you? What are you going to do?”

“Simple,” I said, heading toward the door. “I’m going to get my fucking sword back.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Deacon took the plunge back into the awful dungeon in search of Dan and company, and Brax and I raced toward the fort. Outside, the sun had reached its highest point, a furious white eye against a porcelain-blue backdrop. The biting wind stole all semblance of warmth from its light. My breath steamed like a dragon’s, and my feet crunched over the lightly frosted ground.

I went in alone through the garden door, my fingers crossed that there would be no new guard detail moved mysteriously into the hallway. Deacon and I had to be high on the list of the general’s enemies, and we were absolutely not supposed to be roaming the fort anymore. Whether or not he had already told his soldiers, I couldn’t say, but I knew I’d have to be a little more careful than usual until I got my hands on the Gladius Solis again.

This will be an interesting evaluation of your current skills, Marcus declared. I am looking forward to it.

“Oh, come on.” I hunched over and ran toward the fort wall and pinned myself to the frigid concrete. Listening for approaching footsteps, loading guns, or radio chatter, I inched along the side like it was the edge of a cliff, my arms braced out to my sides. “It’s not a fair assessment if you’re handicapping me.”

I have said many times before that although Kronin’s sword is mighty, it is only as strong as its wielder. The more you improve as an individual, the worthier you will be.

“Don’t you worry, buddy. This is the shit I’ve trained for. These assholes will get their shit jacked up.” I eased my way around the corner of the building and, seeing no one, decided to run the rest of the way. We were losing valuable time, and they would soon know I was there in no uncertain terms anyway. On my approach to the door, I leaned into my run, picking up a good head of steam before achieving lift-off and bashing the door in with a flying kick. The latch bar splintered into an empty passage that wouldn’t be that way for long. I could already hear boots on the tile—a whole herd of them.

It is time, Victoria. Make this old centurion proud.

The general’s men all had the guns they’d pilfered from Fort Sigel’s doomed staff. Having witnessed Marcus’s transition into portable ghost counsel, I was pretty sure the nectar I’d drunk wouldn’t bring me back from a fatal gunshot wound. The easiest way to solve this conundrum was to level the playing field.

The first goon came into sight, already shooting though not aiming precisely. He sprayed a fan of bullets in my general direction, and pieces of the floor and walls shattered. The guard was too preoccupied with covering as much ground as possible to notice me rush directly at him, my head down and shoulder out like a football player or a bull. The gun spat fire into the air as we collided hard. I felt the breath crushed from his lungs.

Barely slowing, I wrenched the rifle from his slackened hands, hit him in the head with the butt of the stock, and swung around the corner myself in hopes of recapturing the element of surprise.

Very smooth, Marcus applauded. I cannot say I wholly approve of your current weapon, however.

I glanced at it. “It’s not about the weapon, baby. It’s about the wielder.”

The gun felt cheap and the firing mechanism hitched when I shot it, but it got the job done. At the end of the new passage, I used the sights to pick off approaching baddies, but as the distance closed, the gun became more reliable as a bludgeoning weapon. Or maybe I’d simply gotten used to swinging a big old sword around all the time.

I grabbed it by the barrel and whacked bad guys with the fat stock end. Unfortunately, the rifle wasn’t built nearly as well as the Gladius, and after a few good hard swings, it broke against a soldier’s jawbone. Both the thug and the back half of the rifle crashed to the floor.

“Let me guess,” I said. “You guys blew your whole budget on razor wire and army rations? Because this is shameful.”

I dropped the rest of the weapon and grabbed another from a different man sprawled beside me. I wielded it in the same way—first, the way it was intended with middling results and then as a souped-up billy-club. This one had a sturdy metal ammo clip affixed to the bottom that removed a few teeth.

I retract some of my earlier statement, said Marcus. This method is rather crude but also effective. I should not have doubted your ability to achieve success via brute force regardless of the circumstances.

I smiled. “And you doubted me. Shame on you.”

Making my way down the endless gauntlet of foot soldiers, I watched carefully for any refugees who might happen to wander too close to the crossfire. Other than my aggressive fan club and me, however, the fort might as well have been empty. Over and over, I told myself to keep my eye on the prize and focus on recovering my sword. It wasn’t so much that everything else could wait. It was that everything else had to.

Deep down, I knew we were cutting it close. Hell, we might already be too late. There was no clock to tell me the exact time, but I had a feeling the pervasive lull of activity in the fort meant that the populace had already gathered in the mess hall. An image of the general appeared unbidden in my mind’s eye, beaming and sprinkling white powder into giant trays of glasses.

The feast would start very soon. Time to pick up the pace. I dropped my latest and now shattered rifle butt and resorted to punching my assailants directly in the face. It was faster and probably as effective.

I did not know you thought yourself a pugilist, Marcus said. He sounded like we were sitting in a bar, having a revealing conversation.

“I don’t.” I adjusted the angle of my fist and kept punching. “But I really, really need to get back into the general’s study. I’m sure the Gladius Solis is there in that lockbox. And every time I think of myself putting it in there, I get a little madder.”

We had been vulnerable, in desperate need of food and shelter and medical care, and the old snake had taken advantage of that. He would pay. All these bastards would.

My punches grew harder and more vicious, and I barely even noticed.

Your hand-to-hand form is…intriguing, Marcus said. Be more careful, or you will risk injury. You must preserve your dominant hand for when you retrieve the blade.

My knuckles sank into the right side of another flunky’s head. He crumpled to the floor at my feet among a growing trail of his comrades. “This isn’t hanging fucking streamers, Marcus. I’ve got this. Let me do my thing, all right?”

He didn’t respond directly, but I still sensed him fretting. For a brief moment, I wanted to take the medallion off and put it in my pocket. He was a tad distracting at that moment. Then I recalled how put out he’d been the last time I had pulled that stunt, and I took a deep, stabilizing breath instead. The faint red tint faded from my vision. My swirling thoughts cleared and focused on my goal.

Get the Gladius Solis.

I finally made it to the hallway leading to the general’s study, the one protected by an electronic lock. At the same moment, the door opened to admit yet more soldiers. Intent on seizing any opportunity, I snatched a loose weapon from the floor and fired its clip into the mass of troops. They broke apart like a flock of birds. I threw the gun aside and ran toward the open door.

“Close it!” someone shouted. “She’s making a break for it!”

With a grinding noise, the door began to close slowly. I saw it and launched my whole body forward into a slide.

“Close it!” came a second cry. “Don’t let her get past.”

A host of hands grabbed at my clothing, but none caught me firmly enough to slow me. I barreled on my stomach toward the steadily lowering door. As I slid under the wide steel lip, a storm of cursing followed before the barrier closed all the way.

“Safe!” I declared, umpire-style. Then I stood and bashed in the electronic panel on my side on the off chance that it would force that portal to remain shut completely. Satisfied with my handiwork, I turned and headed quickly toward the study door.

“You can’t tell if he’s in there, can you?” I asked Marcus.

I cannot. He is but a villain, not a true Forgotten.

“Damn. Well, here goes nothing.” I put my hand on the knob and my foot against the door and pushed inward.

The study was empty. The general’s enormous desk stood opposite the open threshold, as tidy as the last time I’d seen it. The man himself was nowhere to be found, so I took the liberty of stepping behind the desk and pulling the drawers out one by one. Each was full of mundane things that didn’t look altogether out of place inside a desk—staples, index cards, boxes of pens, and notepads. I pushed the high-backed leather chair away from the desk. The lockbox wasn’t under there like I’d hoped, but I did see something that looked suspiciously like a switch.

I leaned down and pressed it. Behind me, something mechanical hummed to life. I turned around in time to see the bottom row of the bookshelf disappear.

“Huh.” I knelt in front of the exposed alcove. “I thought they only made these things for movies.”

It is highly irresponsible to dispose of precious books in such a manner. Parchment is difficult to come by.

“Don’t worry. They’re probably all fake.” I peered intently at the shelf and found myself staring at the top of the lockbox. “Bingo.” I reached down, grasped the handles on either side of the box, and lifted it out onto the floor. It was crazy heavy, and it had a complex lock on the front. At first, I was discouraged. Then I remembered where I was and what I was doing.

I rotated the box to face outward, retrieved the battered, discarded rifle I’d dropped in the hall, and used it to shatter the lock. With an audible release, the lid lifted about an inch.

It could be trapped, Marcus warned.

The thought had crossed my mind as well. I stepped forward and nudged the box with the tip of my boot until the lid popped open on its own. Nothing happened, so I reached in and felt for the Gladius Solis near the bottom, the only sword hilt in a pile of guns. When my fingers finally closed around the hilt, it was like being reunited with a missing limb.

I held it flat in both hands, examining the exterior for any signs of damage. The sword looked pristine. “Oh, I missed you,” I said. “Now, it’s time to go to work.”

As a little warm-up test, I summoned the blade right there in the study. Its ambient heat washed over my arms, and I felt the familiar energy spread through me, reconnecting.

“Okay, new rule,” I announced. “Never, ever give up the sword.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

It is raining, Marcus observed.

“What?” I glanced up, stepping carefully over the bodies of henchmen littering the path from the back door to the general’s study. Some of them—most, in fact—weren’t really dead, but I didn’t care. They couldn’t fight me, and that was currently all that mattered. I paused for a moment to watch raindrops spatter a nearby window. The sliver of sky that I could see had gone from a hard, clear blue to sooty-gray in less than an hour.

If I believed in omens, that would not have been a good one.

The halls of the fort were still eerily quiet, as they must have been right after the general’s initial massacre. No one had even raised the alarm about the platoon of downed soldiers outside the officer’s quarters. There was only one reasonable explanation for the emptiness: the feast had definitely begun.

And that meant we were down to the wire. I hoped Brax had been able to reach someone before things got underway. But when I saw him standing out in the rain, his arms folded and face completely impassive, I knew otherwise. He was alone.

“No dice,” he said when he noticed me. “They had started already. I couldn’t go in.”

“Is everyone in the mess hall?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“I couldn’t tell you,” the demon answered. “I didn’t stick around long enough to get a real good look. But there were a lot of people. Your friends too, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. Shit.” I shot a glance toward the looming shape of the abandoned building and caught sight of several shapes hustling across the wet grass. Deacon and Dan were the first to come into focus, tailed by Dan’s troops. Except for Deacon, they all were dirty and pale, and I smelled them almost immediately.

“Lovely,” Brax deadpanned. “Now we’ll all stink of rotting corpses.”

It may work to your advantage. I doubt the general will be intimidated, but his troops might be.

Marcus’s theory struck me as wildly optimistic at best, but there was nothing to be done about the stench anyway. I met them on the approach to make sure they were all fit to fight. “Good to see you, Dan,” I said. “You had us worried there for a minute.”

He grinned, snapping a salute. “I’ll admit to being caught off guard, but every one of us has been through worse.” His face darkened. “Can’t say I’ve seen much worse than what was under those tarps, though.” He turned to survey the men who had formed up at his back. “I don’t think I need to tell you we’re all gunning for a fight. The military is our family, and we don’t take kindly to people who kill our family.”

The men bellowed in vehement agreement and raised their guns. The level of anger smoldering in their eyes worried me for their sake, but it would certainly help with the task at hand.

“No backup?” Deacon asked. Brax shook his head. The agent looked at me. “What’s the call? I’m deferring to you.”

“You know what it is,” I said and smiled. “Time to crash this party.”

With another rallying cry from Dan’s squad, we turned and stormed the front door. None of the guards were on duty. They’d probably been summoned to the feast with everyone else to make sure the plan went off without a hitch. Or maybe he wasn’t above sacrificing his own men. Whatever the case, even the front foyer stood as empty as a tomb. As we crept closer to the mess hall, we heard signs of life—silverware clinking, dishes and plates rattling around, and the constant hum of conversation. There was laughter too. A lot of it. The sound tugged at my heart. None of these people had any idea what was coming. Nobody knew, except us.

Suddenly, the noises stopped, and momentarily, so did my heart. Our little group was almost at the hall door now, and the two men watched my every move, waiting for the go signal. We were all as tense as hell, like coiled springs ready to explode. I put my hand gently against the center line of the double doors in case the last person in had been stupid enough to leave them open.

They were locked, but a voice boomed from the other side. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the general began. “Thank you for attending this most victorious of celebrations. The road we have traveled has been long and difficult, full of trials and tribulations. Many have not been blessed with the good fortune we share today, and we will mourn those souls as we move forward into a new era.”

Dan nudged me. “I can’t listen to this horseshit,” he growled. “Let’s go.”

“Stand back,” I replied. “I’ll kick it in.” They fanned out behind me. I took a step back, gathered my strength, and struck the doors with the heel of my boot. They were tall and sturdy but weren’t reinforced like some of the others. Both burst inward with a sharp crack.

Hundreds of heads turned to watch us stroll across the threshold. Almost everyone had their glasses raised to the general, ready to drink at the conclusion of his little speech. The man of the hour stared at us, his eyes full of surprise and fleeting rage. Then he smiled. Only this time, it was more like the grin of a hungry shark.

“Ah, the guests of honor have arrived!” he announced. With a hint of venom, he added, “You’re late.”

I glanced around the room at the ocean of refugees. The uplifted glasses sparkled. I had no doubt that every single one was laced with ricin powder.

“No,” I said. “It looks like we’re just in time.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I gave him no opportunity. The whole room blurred as I charged toward the head table. The crowd erupted in confused babbling as people fought to see the commotion. I heard Dan and Deacon call for calm and tell people not to drink anything. My mind and vision focused entirely on my target. If Marcus spoke just then, I didn’t hear him.

The blade of the Gladius Solis didn’t appear until it was inches from the general’s heart, and when it did, it emerged with such fury that I saw his uniform scorched instantly from the blazing heat. His face morphed from smug self-satisfaction to shock and then to horror and fear as he realized he had no time to stop me. The sword plunged into his chest before he could utter a single word.

He crumpled on the floor behind the table. I did hear something after that—the sound of a dozen guns cocking. When I looked up, it was into a row of barrels. But most of the men behind those guns weren’t looking at me. They gazed with dismay at their leader’s dead body, the remains no longer imposing and charismatic.

“Listen.” I readied my sword, and a few of them flinched. Up close, I could see that many of those boys were young, impressionable, and scared. The guns began to waver in their hands. “I’m only here for him. This could easily get worse, but only if you want it to.”

A beat of silence passed. “No,” one man said at last. His voice cracked a little. He cleared his throat and looked to either side. “No, he’s dead. You killed him.” He dropped his gun with a clatter. “You don’t need to kill us too.”

Very quickly, the rest of the men followed suit, raising their arms in surrender.

“All right,” I said. “Kick those guns away. We’ll figure out what to do with you from here.” I glanced back at Dan. “I can promise we won’t kill you, but something tells me the actual military is gonna have a real bone to pick with you.”

The young man went as white as a sheet.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“What the fuck? This is bullshit!” A ripple went through the cluster of fake soldiers as one shoved his way to the front. He still clutched his rifle, and his eyes blazed with righteous fury. He rounded on his former comrades. “What the hell is wrong with you pansy assholes, huh? We didn’t sign up for this because it would be easy. We weren’t promised a walk in the park or a damned Sunday drive, okay? You think that’s why we took out all those other guys? Call me crazy, but I did that because I believed in the general.”

He held his gun tightly in one fist and gestured wildly with the other hand. The others stood motionless in front of him, transfixed by his passion.

“You’re crazy, man,” someone muttered. “It’s over.”

“It’s over?” The single loyalist let out an uneven laugh. “You hear this guy, trying to tell me it’s over? I’ll tell you when it’s fucking over, man. For you? Right now.” He raised the gun in a flash and pulled the trigger.

The crowd of spectators screamed.

“Stop him,” Dan shouted. “Now, before there’s a riot.”

“We’re going to rebuild,” the loyalist yelled. “The general may be dead, but his dream is my dream, and it lives on.” He held the trigger down again, and in the second before I reached him, a few more of the surrendering men fell. I lunged from behind and tackled him to the floor. His rifle skidded toward the refugees, who shied away as if it might explode.

I held the Gladius Solis to the man’s back—not close enough to immolate him, but close enough to make him sweat. He grunted and tried to twist away.

“Uh-uh.” I held him fast. “You’re not going anywhere, friend. It’s time to sit in the corner and think about what you’ve done. And when I say the corner, I mean the dungeon. With the bodies of all those soldiers you killed.”

“It wasn’t only me,” he spat, his face pressed down sideways against the floor. “We were all there. We all followed orders.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I assured him. “Your buddies will be there too. Don’t mistake mercy for forgiveness.” That said, I turned to find Dan. “Hey, Dan? Do me a favor and round these guys up, will you? If anyone else tries to dissent, tie ʼem up before you taken them down to the basement.”

“Don’t worry,” he told me grimly, looking over the prisoners with a cold and critical eye. All traces of his trademark friendliness were gone from his face. “We’ll handle it from here.”

I nodded. “Thanks.” To the general’s men, who suddenly seemed much less intimidating, I said, “Good luck.”

“We can bury the bodies,” one of them piped up. “If-if you think that would help.”

Dan glowered at him. “You know what would help me, son? If you shut your mouth.” He motioned for his squad to join him, and together, they herded the unfortunates through the broken doors. The throng of survivors watched them leave in relative quiet before they turned back to me.

“Vic?” Veronica emerged at the front. I saw Jules right behind her. “I think it would be an awesome idea to explain what just happened.” She came up to the table and stood beside me. “Please don’t worry, everyone. It might not seem like it right now, but I assure you that Vic’s done the right thing. She can tell you everything.”

“This had better be good,” a woman shouted. She was instantly bolstered by outraged agreement. “That guy was taking care of us. What will happen now?”

“Yeah. I’m not following your ass anywhere else, lady. We had it made in this place.”

“You can’t bust in, take our drinks away, and kill people outta nowhere. Where the hell have you been, anyway?”

“Hey!” Veronica shouted. “Let the woman talk, will you? She’s on our side. I swear it.” She nudged me in the ribs as if to tell me to get on with it.

“Okay, look.” I held up my hands, one of which still held the sword. “I understand that this looks bad. And I understand that you’re probably super angry at me for ruining something that looked like a great thing. I wish it was, guys. I wish we could have ridden this whole thing out in this base and been perfectly safe. But the general wanted to kill us all.”

It took a few minutes simply to make myself heard over the clamor that erupted after my last statement. What was supposed to be a joyous feast had turned into an impromptu town hall, where I was the elected official, and they were the loud, opinionated public.

They barely stopped short of throwing things at my head, but I could tell that some of them wanted to. I could hardly blame them, considering they didn’t know the whole story. Eventually, I was able to explain everything to them, and Veronica convinced them to believe me. The survivors’ rage at me turned slowly to the general instead, and to the gods he had meant to serve through his grand sacrifice.

“For now,” I said, “we can stay here, and we will.” A resounding cheer went up, and it felt like a two-ton boulder was lifted from my chest. “My team and I will defend this place from whatever comes our way. If we play our cards right, maybe we can get reinforcements and make this a real settlement. Until then, it’s up to us to make sure this place keeps running smoothly. Can we do that?”

Another cheer sounded. “Yeah!”

“Good job, Vic,” Veronica said, grinning. “You were on pretty thin ice there for a minute, but you pulled it off.”

“Hey, why don’t we rename the fort?” suggested a teenage kid near the front. “The general’s not runnin’ it anymore, so it makes sense, right? Fresh start, clean slate, all of that. It’s our place now.”

“That’s a great idea,” said Veronica. “What should we call it?”

I shrugged. “I’m only one person. I think it should be up to them.”

“How about Fort Victory?” the youngster asked. “That’s like, your name, isn’t it? Vic for Victory?”

I laughed. “That’s not really how it works, but you know what? Sure, I’ll take it.”

I wholeheartedly support this notion, Marcus agreed. It is quite a magnanimous gesture after the contention which you faced. I admit I am somewhat surprised.

“Hey, man, people can be pretty great,” I told him. “And kids think swords are cool.”

This has been a fact since the days of the Roman Empire.

“To Fort Victory!” A third cheer went up.

Frank pushed to the front of the crowd with a glass in his hand. “I’ll drink ta that,” he yelled, placing the cup to his lips.

The cheer turned to a cacophony of terrified screaming.

“Frank!” I suppressed the urge to laugh. “You can’t do shit like that.”

His shoulders slumped. “None of you can take a damn joke.” Then he looked at the glass, sniffed it, and drank anyway. The survivors who saw him held their breath until they realized he was fine, and then they broke into laughter.

“Don’t do this,” he warned. “Don’t any of you do this. I can do it because I’m already frickin’ dead.” Their laughter ceased. “Inside,” he added quickly. “I’m dead inside. Aren’t we all? Haha!”

Veronica sighed.

I said, “Dude, don’t quit your day job.”

The mobster threw his hands up. “I just—I’m tryin’, all right? Ol’ Frank is tryin’ his best.”

After that, it seemed easier to breathe again. We cleared the broken doors away and dumped anything from the tables that might have been poisoned.

“Let’s figure out a way to test the food in the kitchen,” I said. “If it’s good, there’s no reason not to have the feast now.”

“Good call,” Jules said. “Everyone’s probably hungry anyway. It’ll be a good way to defuse tension.” She and Veronica headed into the back. A moment later, they reappeared. “Bad news,” Jules informed me. “No one actually cooked anything. It seems the general didn’t expect anyone to make it that far.”

“Wow. What a total jackass.” I rubbed my face. “Okay. Should we adjourn, then?”

“I mean, we could still cook,” she said. “We’ll need some help, but we can definitely pull it together.”

“I’ll put out a call. I bet they’ll be willing.” I stepped to the front of the mess hall. The general’s body no longer lay where he had fallen behind the table, which I was glad to see. I cleared my throat, and a hush coursed through the group. As I was about to speak, a familiar voice interrupted me.

“We’ve got a problem.” Maya stood in the open doorway, dripping wet, with Luis at her side. They were both out of breath. “A huge problem.”

“Maya!” Two people cried her name out in unison. One of them was Frank, and to my surprise, the other was Steph. Deacon raised an eyebrow.

They both said, “I love you,” still in concert. Deacon raised the other eyebrow. The two immediately turned to stare at each other in horror.

“Thanks,” Maya said. “There’s no time for that right now. The gods are coming.”

“Oh, fuck. Of course, they are.” I hurried to pull Veronica and Jules out of the kitchen. “Change of plans. It’s fight time.” They followed me, and I grabbed Deacon. “Come on. We have to distribute some weapons. Where’s Brax?”

“Here.” He stood by the exit, so quiet that I’d almost walked right by him. “Tell me I can kick some ass since you didn’t save anything for the rest of us.”

“It was only one guy. Or two, I guess.” I shook my head. “Whatever. Yes, you will get to kick ass, but first, I need you to get Dan and help him with the guns he confiscated. We might need them all.” He looked doubtful, but he agreed and slipped past Maya and Luis. I turned to them next. “Did you see them? What are we up against?” I held my hand up. “Wait, don’t tell me. Cats, right?

“Cats?” Luis looked at me like I’d grown another head. “I don’t know man, but she’s no joke,” he answered. “She’s got a whole army behind her. I’m talking waves.”

“It’s true,” Maya confirmed. “She must be a real god. There’s no other way she could control so many. They’re still a good way out, but they’re moving fast as hell. We got back here as fast as we could. I don’t know how much time we’ve got before they arrive. Not much.”

“She?” I asked. “Is it Tahn?” Thoughts of a rematch danced in my mind.

Maya shook her head. “I don’t think so. It didn’t look like her. It’s someone new.”

I nodded. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough. Deacon, come with me. Maya, Veronica, Luis, Jules, help everyone else get ready. See if anyone will join the fight. We’ll need as much help as we can get. Everyone else needs to stay in the fort, no matter what.”

“Roger,” Luis said. He and the three women moved past me into the mass of refugees that was once again awash with confusion.

“Where are we going?” Deacon asked.

“The general’s study,” I said. “He hid the lockbox with all our shit in there. I’m willing to bet he has a secret stash, too.”

But we had to move fast. Time was already running out.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

The fort came alive again. Deacon and I ran for the commander’s office as everyone else streamed out of the mess hall behind us. The rush of people was loud and chaotic, but the tone had changed. They were scared, of course, but also determined and hopeful. We were no longer a herd of victims. We were rising up against a common enemy to fight for our new home.

Their courage inspired me.

The door to the corridor still lay in pieces where I’d broken through it. Deacon saw it and chuckled. “If I ever need to find you, all I gotta do is follow the trail of destruction.”

I shrugged. “I was a lot more subtle before I got my hands on a sword that cuts through everything in the universe. Besides, it was a gift. It’d be rude not to use it.”

“That sword still blows my mind,” he said. “I can’t believe someone gave that to you, but I’m so glad they did. You’re the best person for that thing.”

I stepped across the splintered wreckage. “It’s worked out so far, more or less,” I said. “I’m making it up as I go, but I think we all are. You get good at improvising when it’s your only choice.”

The door to the study was open as I’d left it, and so was the bookcase with the lockbox. The first thing we did was shovel out the rest of the weapons. Deacon slipped his guns back on and smiled. “That’s better.”

I nodded. “I know the feeling. Now, let’s make sure he wasn’t hiding a special secret in here. He seemed like the type of guy who’d have something up his sleeve just in case.”

We tore that room apart quickly. I dumped the desk drawers on the floor and scoured every inch of the frame for any other secret switches. No luck there.

Deacon pulled down everything he could reach from the walls and knocked the shelves clean. He found nothing except a few colonies of dust bunnies—until his fingers hit a groove as he slid them across the room’s longest wall.

“Wait,” he called. “Here.” The panel was almost five feet tall and as heavy as shit. It took both of us to roll it back. A light went on in the exposed compartment. We looked at each other.

“What’d I tell you?” I asked triumphantly. “Look at that thing.”

“Talk about a contingency plan.” Deacon planted his foot on the compartment ledge and undid the metal clamps holding the RPG in place. He hefted it to his shoulder, testing the weight. “Yeah, that’ll leave a dent.”

A black case lay in an alcove in the floor of the hidden compartment. I took it out and found four pristine rockets laying in a thickly cushioned base. “Good enough,” I said. “Time to get this show on the road.”

Deacon slung the launcher onto his back, and we beat it out of there as fast as our legs could carry us. It wasn’t quite the treasure trove I’d hoped for but having a rocket launcher was better than not having one. Worst-case scenario, a few rockets could do a lot of damage to an incoming horde.

Hopefully, Dan or his people knew how to handle the thing.

A truly monstrous machine, Marcus commented. I suppose in some ways, we are fortunate that the gods waited so long to attack. The technology of war has developed in frightening ways.

“We’re fighting bullshit with fire, my friend,” I said.

The scene outside remained largely unchanged, aside from the fact that no more families were running around the halls. The fort belonged to fighters now, and the big mess hall stood empty. I spotted my team rejoining with Dan and Brax near the front entrance, divvying up a big pile of guns between them. Some of those rifles looked pretty damn lethal.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “That’s where all his good weapons went. He was expecting a much bigger fight, wasn’t he?”

Alas, foiled by the element of surprise.

“Thank God.” I shuddered to think about what a bloodbath it would have been otherwise.”

“Hey, there’s our fearless leader,” Maya quipped as Deacon and I drew closer to the group. “I finished bringing everyone up to speed. We’re almost ready to move out.”

“Civvies are in position,” Steph announced. She very pointedly did not look at either Maya or Frank. “They’re waiting on a go word.”

“We don’t have enough,” Brax cut in. “Not by a long shot. We’re damned if we do this.”

I gave him a look. “You’re damned as it is, so what’s the difference? And we can do this.”

Uncharacteristic surprise softened his face, and he shrugged. “Fair enough.”

“What about the guards we stuck in the dungeon?” Jules asked, loading her gun with impressive deftness. She had really adapted well to the situations she’d been thrown into head-first. “There are a lot of them. If we let them help us, we might break even.”

The suggestion made everyone skeptical. “How can we trust those pricks?” Luis demanded. “They already murdered a shit ton of people. How do we know they won’t turn on us once we let them out?”

I had no good response to that, and I could see the others came up empty too. Deacon was the one who spoke as the voice of reason. “Well, maybe this is reckless, but under these specific circumstances, I think we can put some faith in them. You guys saw how fast the vast majority gave up after Vic took the General out. They were basically brainwashed. Plus, they know that if the fort is overrun, they’ll be slaughtered.”

True. I would be very surprised if the gods planned to honor whatever deal the general believes he made, said Marcus. I do not think these men will curry any more favor than anyone else on the battlefield.

I nodded. “Settled. Dan, I know I asked you to lock them up, but can you—”

“We’re on it.” The soldier selected a handful of his men and sent them off to the dungeon. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to stay for the rest of the briefing.”

“Not at all.” I arched my eyebrows at him and Brax. “How’s the internal militia coming?”

They looked at each other. For once, the silent exchange didn’t feel outright belligerent. “With the new recruits, I think we’ve figured it out,” the demon said. His tone was as flat as ever, but at least there was no apparent disgust in his voice.

I motioned to Deacon, who presented the rocket launcher and its ammo. “Maybe this will help.”

Dan whistled. “You’re damn right it will. I got a guy who’s gonna love that shit.”

I laughed. “That’s good because I’d rather not get blown up by our own artillery.”

He gave me the hugest shit-eating grin. “We ain’t gonna live forever, but this might help us live till tomorrow.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “Make every shot count. Get moving, soldier.”

He did as he was told, heading off to the wall surrounding the fort. After he’d gone, the dusky evening air filled with an ominous sound—marching. And it was coming our way.

Steph sighed. “Well, that doesn’t sound great.”

“Jeezum Crow,” Frank muttered. “You poor guys must be flyin’ completely blind. I’ve got super-vision, and I can’t see a damned thing out there.”

“We can fix that.” Luis glanced at Maya. “Let’s light ʼem up.” He nodded toward the watchtowers standing silent guard over the gates.

“Hey, yeah! Don’t worry, Vic. We got this covered.” Maya took off at a dead sprint, and the kid raced in the other direction. Seeing them working so well as a team lifted my spirits. That was the kind of mutual support we would need if we wanted to survive.

Luis and Maya made it to the guard towers, and the giant searchlights snapped on, blazing huge swaths of light down onto the area in front of the garrison. I expected to see shapes in the distance, but they were right up close to the first gate and in perfect formation, stopping for nothing.

The lights panned across ranks and files of staring, baleful faces. Each set of eyes flashed back a distinct yellow-gold. They were tall and lithe, and they looked as lethal as anything I’d ever seen before. It didn’t take an expert to know they would move incredibly fast.

Next to me, Deacon chuckled nervously. “Man, I’m glad this is happening here instead of our shitty camp in the woods. We’d have been dead as dog shit.”

I agreed, but I was too busy searching for the god among the army to respond.

She was maybe four rows back and moving forward rapidly. I had no doubt she was the goddess leading the charge because she towered over her underlings, and her gaze had focused immediately on the Gladius Solis. Her eyes gleamed a deeper, more potent gold than those of her followers, and even from that distance, I could see her narrow, malevolent pupils. They were like Tahn’s, in a way, but it definitely wasn’t my previous adversary.

I had no idea who she was, though. She moved with a grace that was beautiful and eerie. It marked her unquestionably as a creature not from this world. Had I not known at a glance what she really was, I might have been transfixed by her beauty. She sang no siren song, but she really didn’t need to.

“Oh, shit.” Frank mopped his forehead with the remains of his sleeve. “That’s one hell of a broad.” Steph shot him a dirty look. He held up his hands. “We were all thinkin’ it.”

The goddess reached the front of her army and stopped, halting them behind her without a word. Dan’s soldiers rejoined us with the general’s formerly imprisoned men, and she watched them take position intently. Her mouth dropped open, and she hissed a command. The word, in some unrecognizable tongue, sliced through the air. In less than a second, the humanoid figures amassed in front of us had transformed into hundreds of big, feral cats. Their eyes bored through the darkness. Doubtless, they could see us with perfect clarity.

“Uh, Marcus?” I asked. The cats released a piercing, unearthly scream. Their razor-sharp fangs stood out in brutal relief. Every one of them was a deep, inky black that made it almost impossible to pick them out from each other or from the lengthening shadows around them. They swarmed at the first fence, a living, writhing mass. We watched them scale it like it barely even existed. They seemed to melt through the heavy links, and the razor wire on the top had no observable effect at all. Some of them simply made gaping tears in the bottom and squeezed their bodies beneath.

Cats? Marcus sounded perplexed. I suppose this must be Bastas. I have not laid eyes upon her in centuries.

I groaned. “Oh, good. We just won the shit lottery.”

“Speak for yourself,” Steph said, leveling her gun. “I fucking hate cats.”

Chapter Thirty

I had thought that the double fence would buy us a little time, but it was an insignificant hurdle to Bastas’s minions. The cats were up and over in no time, a sinewy flood with claws and teeth bared. They struck the ground with impossible lightness, sprang up, and transformed yet again. This time, they launched into the attack.

“What the hell are those?” one of Dan’s men hollered. He was too well-seasoned a soldier to be panicked by the unusual, but he was definitely confused. I locked my eyes on one of the rushing assailants and saw why. Only the humanoid proportions had returned, and coarse fur covered their otherwise naked bodies. The claws and teeth remained, jutting from fingertips and gums. They moved like torpedoes. The only thing I could get a reliable bead on were the eyes.

“They’re the bad guys,” I yelled back. “Cut them down.”

Dan’s voice soared above the cats’ wild screams. “Not yet!” He held up a closed fist in plain view of all his men, including the new ones. “You turncoats in the back, I know we’re not on the best of terms, but believe me, you want to listen. I’m the only one who’ll get you out of this clusterfuck alive. Hold your fire.” Dan stared straight ahead, cold as ice and soaked with frigid rain. He didn’t move so much as a muscle. His fist stayed airborne.

The cats barreled closer. I measured the distance—forty feet. Thirty. Twenty.

“Now!” Dan’s arm chopped downward. The encroaching night lit up around me with eager muzzle flashes that were all but drowned in a sudden clap of thunder. Some of the howling creatures fell into the dirt that was slowly churned into an ocean of mud and stones. Undaunted, the others pressed onward, an endless torrent. They were now slick with the blood and fur of their brethren, and their eyes glowed even brighter.

“I think we made ʼem mad,” Deacon remarked. He fired a bullet directly between a cat’s eyes and watched it crumple beneath the stampede. “Good.”

“That’s the spirit,” Steph shouted over the rain and wind. Strands of her blonde hair had slipped free of her ponytail and lay plastered across her face. She grinned from ear to ear, holding her handgun with both hands to steady the shots. “Don’t give these pussies any mercy. This is what they deserve.”

The rain sizzled off the surface of my flaming blade, which didn’t seem affected at all by the burgeoning storm. I was as ready as hell when the cats came within striking distance, practically vibrating in my boots.

The first one to reach me made a vicious swipe with its humongous claws, and as I was about to retaliate, a coin-sized hole appeared in its furry forehead. The yellow eyes rolled back, and it dropped dead at my feet. Seconds later, all that remained was a matted haystack of dark fur. No teeth, no bones, not even blood. It felt like I’d gutted a stuffed animal.

“Hey!” I took my frustration out on the next unlucky monster to leap at my face, slicing it neatly in two at the waist. The smell of burning hair filled my nostrils, and then it, too, was a shoddy pelt rippling in the wind. “Who the fuck is out here sniping? I had that one.”

Dan shot me a giant grin. I couldn’t quite see under his hat, but I thought he might be waggling his eyebrows. “That would be the snipers, Vic,” he yelled, gesturing madly toward the top of the fort. “Feast your eyes on that shit.”

I speared a couple of Bastas’s cat-men together and turned toward where he pointed. The fluid momentum tore through their bodies, and I saw shadowy figures nestled in parapets on the roof. Their guns fired less often than those on the ground, but as far as I could tell, every shot was a critical hit. The cat beasts dropped like flies under the hail of bullets, popping like fur grenades as the bodies hit the ground.

But whenever I peered into the distance, all I saw was more of them. Yeah, they were dying in droves, but that wouldn’t matter if we ran out of ammo before they ran out of troops.

“Use the rocket!” I shouted in the general direction of Dan’s squadron. “On the little ones, nothing else. Take out as many at once as you can. I’ll find the god.” A few seconds later, I heard something heavy loaded into a cylinder.

“Go, go, go!” Dan commanded. “Get as far forward as you can without having your face ripped to shreds. I wanna see these pussycats light the fuck up.”

The rocket man darted forward with the RPG on his shoulder, screaming out a bloodcurdling war cry. When he fired, the blast from the rocket nearly knocked him on his ass. He landed on his knees in the mud as the payload sailed through the air. It blew a hole in the ranks where it impacted, cat monsters exploding amid wild scatterings of fur and blood. Something about their uncanny silhouettes gave me the serious creeps.

“Yes!” Dan bellowed gleefully. “That’s what I’m talking about.” Still shooting, he pumped his fist. He was fairly far forward, but his men had him covered. The army seemed to break at his position like waves on a stark, unforgiving beach. He was clearly having as much fun as one could have in the middle of an all-out war.

On the other end of the spectrum, Brax smashed grimly through legions of beasts with his flaming hammer, not even blinking as they fell around him. He cut a wide path through the chaos, and his movements were so deliberate that I wondered what he was doing. “Looks like Dan had the right idea after all,” I shouted. The guns made a rhythmic chorus in the background, punctuated by the wet thud of brand-new corpses.

The demon glanced up. “Oh, you think so?” He still had his sunglasses on, even though they were streaming wet. “Watch this.” He signaled a nearby soldier, who responded by raising a snub-nosed gun and firing a flare in a high arc.

“Stop!” Dan yelled. “Flare out.”

The gunfire ceased immediately. I hacked and slashed at the relentless cats in the path of my sword without actually looking at them. My eyes were trained on the trajectory of the flare. That inattentiveness earned me a nice scratch on the arm.

“Bad kitty,” I said as I severed the creature’s head.

The rain washed the blood from my wound, and the pain hardly registered. Though these cats were tough, they weren’t worse than anything I’d faced before. About the same as a pretty good vamp, actually, but the big issue was their sheer numbers. No matter how well we fought, we could be overwhelmed if we weren’t careful.

Unless Brax’s plan was a real show-stopper.

The flare dropped amid the crush of monsters. Those at the point of collision jumped away, some severely burned. They shrieked and hissed like the animals they were. Then a wall of flames erupted in a significant radius, immolating all the enemies within. The blaze raced helter-skelter down a line of accelerant that had soaked so deep into the ground, it was untouched by the rain. I watched the fire carve out a huge piece of the horde before curling around the rear so that they had no means of escape.

“Damn,” I said to Brax. “I’m not gonna lie. That’s as impressive as hell.”

“It’s not over yet,” he said. Two of the gatehouses which were inside the blazing cage belched out twin torrents of roaring men. The soldiers smashed into the panicking cat-men like a hammer on an anvil. Their makeshift weapons—shovels and fire pokers, beat-up wooden baseball bats, and rough, hand-carved spears—weren’t pretty, but infused with the anger of a hundred ragtag warriors, they were equal to the challenge. The clash was fierce and bloody, obscured by the thickening haze. Tufts of burning hair were everywhere, and patches of it whipped by on the stiff breeze.

The cries that shattered the night’s stillness became less like threats and more like death throes. The onslaught of pissed-off cats flagged. Clouds of fur drifted across the war zone.

I swore I heard somebody sneeze.

Tons more of the feline figures moved steadily toward us, their unholy eyes glowing like disembodied orbs in the smoke and rain, but we had slowed them down.

“I’m glad you guys finally got your shit together after all,” I told Brax as I pulled my jacket up to shield my nose and mouth. “Remind me to look for some gas masks or rebreathers or something next time we hit a store. These assholes stink.”

“Work hazard,” he said nonchalantly. “Can’t stand the smoke, get out of the fire.”

“That is not how that saying goes,” I said. “You guys will never blend in if you can’t grasp the vernacular.”

“Blend in?” He laughed gruffly. “Not a chance, Vic.” A smoldering creature lurched at him from the screen of smoke, and he brought the hammer down on its head. “That’s the silver lining to all this mess, I guess, if you can say there is one. As long as all this unbelievable crap is still going on, I don’t seem that strange.”

“You wouldn’t seem that strange if you dressed in normal clothes, Brax.”

We waded through the battlefield, our boots squelching in the ankle-deep mud. All semblance of order had gone from Bastas’s army, and in the far distance, they began to turn tail rather than rush into the war zone.

“Keep going,” I shouted to anyone who could hear. “They’re turning back.”

The hurrah I got in response was louder and more fearsome than I’d expected. Whether through luck, skill, or sheer determination, much of our fighting force was still on their feet, and by the sound of it, raring to go.

My heart almost burst with pride. And even though I was soaked through to the skin, covered in filth, blood, and cat guts, I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt.

The army you have built is more than admirable, Victoria. This is because all militaries reflect the qualities of their leader, no matter what stock they are made from.

“That’s cool of you to say, Marcus,” I answered. “And I really do appreciate it. But I’ve got a real big question that hasn’t been answered.”

What is that?

I scanned the area, doing my best to peer through the acrid smog. “Where the hell is Bastas? That’s what you said her name was, right?”

Yes, and it is a valuable inquiry. I am sure I need not say that she can be rather slippery if she likes, although she must be annoyed that her minions have fallen into shambles.

“Historically speaking, cats don’t do that well against guns, swords, or fire,” I pointed out. “Or vacuum cleaners. Too bad we don’t have a bunch of those. Anyway, I’m not sure what Bastas expected.”

I am in agreement, but I am also certain she will not see things that way. Be prepared for a long and difficult fight.

“Noted.” I paced farther into the field, angling away from Brax. “Hey,” I called across the widening gap between us. “If you saw a tall, slender, evil-ass cat goddess, you’d tell me, right?”

He stared, his face impassive. “Like that one?”

“What?” I realized at that moment that he had been looking over my shoulder through the dark glasses. “Damn it, Brax. I’m over those shades.”

I turned to face the still-roaring barrier of fire, and I froze where I stood. A clearly defined female silhouette approached from the other side. She moved with ethereal grace, as if her body belonged on another plane entirely and did not need to obey our pathetic laws of physics. I watched, mildly entranced, as she stepped directly through the licking flames. Those minions who tried to do the same were consumed posthaste, but she emerged unscathed.

“Yeah,” I said, too quietly for Brax to hear me. “That’s her.”

Bastas’s unmistakably feline features revealed no expression except a quiet haughtiness housed mainly in the brilliant eyes. I felt that she could see through me as easily as if I were a window and that she wasn’t too impressed by what she saw. She glided toward me, her lips curling to reveal nasty fangs that jolted me from my reverie.

I sprang backward, brandishing the Gladius Solis in a flourish of flame. Unlike her underlings, the goddess did not flinch. Bathed in the insistent glow of the blade, she smiled cruelly in the dispassionate way of cats.

I could suddenly see why Steph might not be a fan of the species.

Remember, Bastas is very fast, Marcus warned. You will never have as much time as you think you do.

As he spoke, I was already backpedaling. “Here, kitty, kitty,” I shouted. The sword drew ribbons of light through the dense, smoky fog, sizzling and steaming from the still-falling rain.

Your taunts will only serve to displease her, Marcus said. Bastas is not like the others in the way that she interacts with humans.

“That’s fine,” I said. “Maybe she’ll get curious. Don’t you know what that does to cats?”

Chapter Thirty-One

I found out very quickly that Marcus was right about at least one thing. Bastas did not appear to give two flying shits about me. No matter how much I danced around and waved my giant laser-pointer of a sword, she seemed content to watch me make an ass of myself for a while, her eyes narrowed. I caught sight of various members of my team during this display, and all made the judicious call to steer clear, even Brax. I was glad for that, deep down. This one, I thought, was best handled one on one.

Assuming I could get in range of her anyway. Where was a giant ball of string when you needed one?

“Come on, kitty kitty,” I yelled, pirouetting with the Gladius Solis. “I think you and I ought to have a little chat about what’s going on here, maybe over a saucer of milk. Your pets aren’t looking so hot anymore.” I paused. “Well, the ones on fire look pretty hot, but you know what I mean. Did you see that a lot of them ran home? How embarrassing. One might even call it a catastrophe.”

Her eyes narrowed even further. A little voice in the back of my head told me I was officially stomping around on thin ice. I ignored it. Sometimes thin ice got results, depending on which of us fell through first.

“You want to make a deal?” I went on. “I’ve made a couple of those today. One guy’s dead now, but it doesn’t have to be like that. We could come to an understanding. How much catnip would it take?”

Bastas twitched her long, elf-like ears. She was agitated. I could tell by the way her long body had trouble staying completely still. Her fingers, in particular, fidgeted around. The sharp claws sheathed and unsheathed in quick succession. She wanted to sink them into my throat.

I wanted her to come close enough to try.

“Let’s go.” I beckoned to her with the sword. “Are we going to fight, or are we going to make a deal?” Again, I brandished the sword. “You don’t say much. What the matter? Cat got your tongue? Maybe you’ve got a furball stuck in your throat. Honestly, if you don’t answer me, I’m gonna keep making shitty cat jokes all night. You have the power to stop this.”

The goddess took a step forward, and she was at my throat faster than my eyes could see. Her perfect, otherworldly face stared down into mine. The slender fingers gripping my neck didn’t press down too hard—just hard enough to give me a clear picture of her strength. I blinked, regulated my breathing, and forced my brain and heart not to skip automatically into panic mode. Up close, her eyes were swirling golden galaxies, deep with wisdom and something more sinister. Bitterness, maybe, or pure hatred.

“Do not speak to me as though I am a child,” she snarled. Her voice was not silky smooth. It carried the coarseness of the command she had uttered at the start of the fight. “Compared to one such as me, you are little more than a mist of blood in the wind, unpleasant and soon forgotten.”

As you can hear, Bastas possesses a trait quite characteristic of her feline kin—a rough tongue.

“She speaks,” I told her around a slightly strained smile. “And I would gladly return the courtesy if you’d be kind enough to let go of my throat. If not…” I brought the sword around and wedged it between us, holding it steady even though the heat on my own skin was searing. Bastas jerked away from both the heat and light, hissing sharply. The moment her grip loosened, I used the butt of the sword to knock her hand away with one sharp blow. She cradled her wrist, seething.

That was something I knew about cats. They were sensitive and highly strung, and they did not like pain.

“I offered you the chance to make a deal,” I said. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but that seemed like a blatant rejection.”

Bastas bared her fangs and circled me like a fighter searching for the best angle of attack. “Insolence,” she burst out. “How dare you assume that I, the luminous Bastas, would deign to make a deal with your brand of lowly mortal filth?” She sniffed and tossed her head. “What could you know of deals in the first place, having spent the whole of your pathetic life on a tiny, dismal rock? I have dealt in stars, in planets and galaxies, and in realms. There is nothing you could give me that would even begin to tempt me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” I replied. “I mean, I’m sure I could scrounge up a big juicy mouse.”

This is a vain, prideful creature. She adores herself, no other.

That much had become abundantly clear. I turned in place so that I could keep my eyes on her, primed to fend off an attack at any moment. But she seemed more interested in preening for the moment, tending to whatever mutilation she thought I’d inflicted upon her wrist. Never mind that she had been the one inches from choking me to death.

“Child,” she said at last, her voice dripping with disdain. “Before I eliminate you forever, I want you to know how little you mean to me and how insignificant your demise will be in this world. You are a drop in the vastest of oceans, a grain of sand on an infinite beach. You are less than a blade of grass, less than a speck of dirt. I will grind you beneath my feet, and there, you will fade into nothingness.”

“Wow,” I said. “So you’re gonna bury me like a turd in kitty litter? That’s not very nice.”

Bastas pinned her ears against her head, and her lips twisted into a feral grimace. The words that leapt from her throat rose partially into a shriek, and I knew I had her.

“You are null and void!” she screamed.

The flurry of teeth and claws that flew at my face distorted her enough that for a split second, she didn’t look like anything other than pure, vengeful darkness. Her lithe form melted in and out of the shadows until I could have sworn there was more than one of her.

“Is she a master of illusions, too?” I asked Marcus, half joking.

Given her penchant for what you have so often termed, ‘total bullshit,’ I would not be surprised in the least, he answered honestly.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you swear,” I said. My head constantly swiveled, trying to keep tabs on where she was. She moved so quickly that I could barely depend on hearing rather than sight. It was like she was everywhere all at once.

Now I understood why this might take a while.

Breathe, Victoria. She is a different breed of god, to be sure, but she is not invincible. There is no such thing as a flawless deity, for even Kronin could die.

I spotted the vaguest hint of a cat shape leap from shadow to shadow. A pair of golden eyes appeared and streaked away. “She’s making me dizzy,” I said to Marcus. “Will she stop if I throw up on her?”

Trust your sword, as you have learned to do, he said. Your human senses may yet fail, but the Gladius Solis will not. It is, after all, the armament of a king.

I examined the blade beneath the flames. It made me a little nervous to take my eyes off Bastas’s potential attack, but it did help clear my mind. The longer I studied the sword in my hand, the more confident I became. It had brought me through all kinds of fresh new hells without missing a beat. I had seen it topple gods before, and I knew it could do so again. We could do it together.

The goddess disoriented me, but she was merely an obstacle, not invincible. I felt as if the sword spoke to me through my hands, sending its energy up into my body. The skin on my forearms picked up its glow, and a matching warmth spread through me. This, I realized, was what it felt like to truly be one with the weapon.

“Bastas,” I whispered. “Where are you?” I could almost see her now, even though my gaze was fixed downward at an angle toward the burnt grass. Her quiet, ever-moving presence stood defined in my mind’s eye. She was finally, finally getting ready to strike. She thought I was distracted.

But she was wrong.

She launched at me from above and behind, and in the two seconds that she was in the air, I whirled and blocked her claws with the flat of the blade. Instead of that exquisite humanoid face, I found myself looking into the eyes of a great black leopard, its paws braced upon the sword.

We stared at each other. A curl of dark black smoke rose from the blade’s surface, and Bastas jerked her paws away. A harsh, dark smear marred the underside of one great padded foot, which she now favored. She shrank back to the edge of our self-determined arena, but not far back enough that I couldn’t see her. The sneak attack she’d thought was foolproof had failed. She seemed strangely unsure about her movements now.

“Not used to fighting on your own?” I asked. “I get it. You have people to do that for you.”

Her hackles rose. She screamed again and launched her massive body at my head. A foot away from impact, she shifted into a humanoid and swiped at my chest with her naked claws.

“I will rip out your unworthy heart,” she growled.

I jerked my arm back and threw the sword overhand. It struck her in the left side of the ribcage, knocking her off balance. She tried to snatch it from the air, but my recall proved too strong.

“Jeez, lady,” I said. “At least buy me dinner first.” I flashed the sword at her. “Nice try, though. I think you almost had me.”

Bastas’s eyes were wide, fixed on me and wild with rage. Her pupils had shrunk down to nothing in spite of the darkness, and the wide expanse of yellow around the slits glowed like lamplight in the night.

“How can a human dare to mock me so?” she demanded. “From whence does this fool’s courage stem? There is no ending for you, save for a painful death. Do you not understand?”

“It might be painful if you killed me, yeah,” I acknowledged cheerfully. “But you won’t do that, will you?”

She lunged from the ground, seeking to rip my stomach open. “You will writhe in a sea of your own offal.”

I stepped aside, slicing neatly at her as she tumbled past. “No thanks. I’m keeping organs on the inside where they belong.”

The goddess whipped around and threw her body through the air. She morphed into the black leopard, and as the sinewy limbs stretched toward me, I leveled the edge of the Gladius Solis and thrust it directly into the center of her left paw pad. She couldn’t stop in time, and the steel traveled up and out the side of her leg, scraping the bone. Dark, pungent blood showered me.

Bastas hit the ground hard and wrenched her injured leg. A shattering, soul-rending cry shook her whole body, but she still managed to leap to three of her feet and bolt raggedly off toward the forest before I had taken more than two steps toward her. Heavy drops of blood trailed in her wake. I watched her shape, robbed of its grace, race off until she faded from sight.

Seconds later, Dan, Deacon, and Brax appeared, looking for the source of the horrible screech. “What in the blazes was that?” Dan asked. “Did you find a damn banshee somewhere?”

The demon shook his head. “Bastas is dead.”

“No, she’s not. I couldn’t seal the deal.” I extinguished the sword’s blade. “But one of her legs is pretty fucked up, and I’d say it’s a job well done for now. If she comes back, I’ll kill her for sure. If she doesn’t, I’ll hunt her down. Either way, she’s no longer a present threat.”

He looked me over. “That her blood, at least?”

“Hell, yeah,” I said.

Brax nodded his approval. “Nice.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

True to Forgotten form, Bastas’s minions didn’t last long after she abandoned them. My team and I mopped up the fight before we retreated into the fort, leaving some of our soldiers on watch. I lingered at the front for a while, keeping a personal eye out for any sign of Bastas’ return. She never appeared. I figured that her leg injury had at least bought us a chunk of time, though when she eventually did return, it would probably be with a vengeance.

By then, we’d be ready for her.

The first thing I did once I went inside was take a nice, hot shower. The mud, sweat, and cat-god blood ran down the drain, and I soaked in the steam and soap. The things a hot shower could do for the soul were truly amazing. I emerged from the stall rejuvenated, ready to face the new challenges awaiting us.

No doubt, there were worse things than a horde of feral cats on the horizon, but we had proven tonight that we had each other’s backs—all of us. I smiled, thinking about the way Dan and Brax’s plan had gone off without a hitch. Sure, it turned the whole field into an awful burning mess, but it took care of the horde. An encouraging step forward.

I took my time getting dressed, brushed my hair, and went to the table by the bed to slip Marcus’ pendant back on.

Hail, Victoria. You are looking as well as I’ve ever seen you.

I chuckled. “That is almost certainly not true, but thanks for making the effort. What do you say we get down to the mess hall and check on the status of the feast? My stomach is feeling pretty empty.” Right on cue, a gurgle emanated from my inner workings.

Certainly. Hunger pangs do not suit a hero.

I sighed, smiling in spite of myself. “I’m not a hero, Marcus. I’m simply doing the job you gave me. Without pay, I might add. All I have for compensation are warrants for my arrest, people trying to kill me, and tons of blood on my hands. I’m not sure I would have taken this gig if I knew the perks were so nonexistent.”

That is almost certainly not true, Marcus echoed, but thank you for making the effort. I had thought you were too pleasant as of late.

“Oh, please.” I waved my hand dismissively. “You’ve come to love this sparkling personality.”

As sparkling as grains of salt in an open wound, he said.

I frowned. “You’re getting sassier. Maybe you’d like to hang out with someone else for a while. You could roll with Deacon instead. Or Brax. How about that?”

If you forced Abraxzael to wear this medallion, I assure you, I would find a way to transcend the boundaries of death and die again.

“I’ll never understand you two. He’s not that bad.” I entered the open-front atrium and turned right toward the mess hall. A couple of Dan’s men were hard at work replacing the broken doors. They grinned at me on my way past.

“Hey, Vic,” the older one said. “You’re looking mighty fine tonight.”

“C’mon, dude.” His younger colleague looked mortified. “You can’t say that to her. She totally outranks us.”

I smirked. “What he means to say is that I’m way out of your league. See you at the feast, boys.” I passed into the hall without giving them a second thought.

“Oh, shit,” the younger one said. “I should have high-fived her for that.”

The tantalizing aroma of food drifted from the open kitchen as I made my way to the back. I could see Veronica’s crimson hair tied up in a giant bun on her head and encased in a makeshift hairnet. She looked up when she heard me enter. “Hey, Vic. How are you feeling?”

I scowled. “Fine. Why? Do I look like crap?”

Big Red rolled her eyes. “No, you look fine. I asked how you are because of that fight you were in, remember?” She palmed a dinner roll from a nearby baking sheet and tossed it at me. “Here. Shove this in your face. You’ve gotten skinny.”

“Okay, Mom.” It was still warm and soft and buttery on the inside. “What the hell? This is so good. Did you make it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Veronica held up a tube of premade dough. “Me and this cardboard tube.”

“Is that Vic I hear out there?” Jules stuck her head out from one of the pantries. Her smile lit up her whole face. “Hey! You look awesome. It’s good to see you not covered in dirt or blood for once.”

“You make it sound like those are things I want to happen.” I took another bite of the roll. “Those are simply things that happen to me.”

“We’re grateful for it, make no mistake.” Veronica opened one of the ovens and peeked at what was inside. “But that doesn’t make it less gross.”

“Fair,” I said. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”

It was Jules’ turn to roll her eyes. “Get out of here with that. Good food is like art. It takes time.” She looked me over. “Why don’t you go find Deacon so that clean, pretty face doesn’t go to waste?”

Veronica laughed before she could hide it. Her enormous bun wobbled.

“You guys are jerks,” I said. “Don’t blame me if you come to tell me the food’s ready and all you find are some skeletonized remains.”

Big Red groaned and tossed me another roll, and I made off with my prize before either of them could change their minds. I’d given them a hard time for fun, but actually, I didn’t mind that the feast wasn’t ready yet. I wanted to take another spin around the fort and assess the situation.

The common areas were full again. Families sat talking on the furniture, and mothers cradled babies in the crooks of their arms. Older children zipped around the adults, shrieking and laughing with pure glee. I found Maya putting puzzles together with a whole gaggle of kids, while Steph conspicuously read a book nearby. Frank and a kitten took up the opposite corner. None of the parents shot him suspicious looks any more or whispered to each other when he went by. He let the kids use his bulky physique as a jungle gym, rifle through his pockets, and even wear his hat. He studiously avoided both Maya and Steph at the moment, but I guessed that couldn’t be helped.

“You seen Deacon?” I asked him.

“Nah.” He shook his head. “I been busy, you know? Keeping the cat is a full-time job.” He scratched her between the ears.

“Right, don’t forget the feast,” I said as I walked away.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” he replied. “I’m dead, not…dead. Wait a sec—”

Dan and his men were outside under the glare of the spotlights, working to clean up the aftermath of the battle. Thick, tufted tumbleweeds dotted the scarred ground, dissipating gradually in the knife-like wind. I spotted Luis in the mix, his rifle on his shoulder, chatting with Dan as the two of them gathered heaps of charred grass. The soldier’s cheerful smile was once again a permanent fixture on his face, and his boisterous laughter rang out as I watched him interact with the kid. They were both laughing by the time I turned away.

I felt good inside. Deacon was nowhere to be found until I headed back to my quarters. He stood in the hallway outside my door, apparently waiting for me to answer. “You looking for something?” I asked.

“Yeah, and I just found it,” he said. “I thought we could find a way to kill some time before we eat. Did you know there’s a game room in here?” He pointed down the corridor. “It’s over near the regular barracks. They have an old arcade machine.”

“No way.” I inspected his face, trying to gauge whether he was screwing with me or not. It was true I hadn’t had the chance to fully explore the fort yet due to extenuating circumstances.

“For real. Bet you ten bucks I can beat the high score.”

“I’ll take that bet,” I said.

That was how we whiled away the hour before the feast was ready. Deacon labored mightily to win the bet, but he couldn’t succeed. To be fair, neither could I. But I still relished that time we spent together, for once not worrying about where the gods were, what they did, or how we would orchestrate our next move. It was only the two of us fighting over the stool in front of the machine, ribbing each other mercilessly, and sitting real close without stinking to high heaven.

I’d missed that kind of human contact.

I was in a great mood when we found seats in the mess hall. He brought us a couple of drinks, and I sat and watched the scene. More and more of the faces at these tables had become incredibly familiar to me. We were a huge, rambling family—definitely not where I thought I’d end up at the start, but I really couldn’t complain.

I sipped my drink, my eyes closed, when someone screamed. Immediately, I sat bolt upright as my eyes jerked wide open. Another murder was the first thing on my mind, another mangled body discovered inside the fort. That would dismantle this hard-won peace. I braced myself for the worst.

The crowd rippled and eventually ejected Frank almost in front of me. He was clearly on the way down from vamp mode, and he had a big bundle slung over his shoulder. On closer inspection, I realized the bundle was a person and a dead one at that. He dumped it unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Frank!” I jumped forward. “What the hell is this?”

He glanced up at me and rolled the body over. “Look. Remind you of anyone?”

I turned my gaze downward and felt my blood chill in my veins. The corpse belonged to the beefy guy who’d set the mob on Frank after the second murder in the woods—except he had changed. His face was sharp and lean, and fangs protruded from the slackened jaw. A forked tongue lolled out of the bully’s mouth.

“It was him,” Frank said vehemently. “The whole time, it was him. I caught him on his way to go skulkin’ through the woods. He was probably after one of Dan’s crew.” He scowled. “He wouldn’t come quietly, so I dealt with him. I know you said I’m not supposed to, and normally I’d agree, but…” The look he gave me was faintly beseeching, begging me to understand.

“Nah, you did good, Frank.” I clapped him on the shoulder and looked at the rest of the survivors watching us wide-eyed. “You hear that, guys? Frank got rid of the son of a bitch who killed our people in the Delaware Water Gap.”

The crowd cheered. The mobster smiled sheepishly. “It was nothin.’”

“Aw, Frank. You’re a hero.” Maya, still surrounded by kids, beamed at him, and a blush actually crept into his vampy cheeks.

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Deacon muttered.

As have I.

“Let him have this,” I said. “Look, I know it’s pretty weird that he’s a vampire, but he can obviously control himself, and he’s been on our side since he changed. There’s no way we can say all Forgotten are bad now. You know that, right? Some of them, at least, have demonstrated a capacity to do good.”

This much, I must concede, said Marcus.

“I’m not ragging on the guy,” Deacon answered. “It would’ve been just as weird if he was alive.”

I gave Deacon a look and stepped up beside the rotund man in front of the survivors. “Can I say something real quick before the feast begins in earnest? I want everyone here to know how badass they are. Each and every one of you has done incredible things to get where we are today, especially over the last twenty-four hours. I have seen more strength, more courage, and more undiluted human spirit here in this fort than I have ever seen in my life. I mean it. And I will never forget it. We are in this together now, for as long as this struggle lasts. It doesn’t matter if you don’t like me, or you don’t agree with me, or whatever. I’ve got your back until the world is ours again.”

The crowd whooped. Someone had taken some of my sad streamers off and tossed them around.

“What’s next?” asked a wiry youth with scuffed-up glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Where do we go from here?”

I thought about that for a minute. “We go up,” I said. “We gained a foothold. We won a battle. I think we’ve been on defense long enough, don’t you? It’s time to start winning the war.”

The cheers were raucous, bouncing off the walls. “Fort Victory! Fort Victory!” Then the chant devolved into, “Vic for Victory! Vic for Victory!”

I couldn’t help the laughter. “That’s not how it works.”

They didn’t care. And it didn’t matter, so I let it slide.

Vic for Victory.

Epilogue

The pain in her leg was excruciating, worse than any Bastas had ever felt in her long, long life. Although she was hurting, her injuries took a backseat to the blind, seething rage that boiled through her veins. The fact that it was a human who had done this to her, accursed god-weapon or not, was enough to drive her to the limits of her sanity. How could that vermin have inflicted such a wound?

How could this have happened?

The goddess’ vision blurred for a moment, doubled, and grayed out. Her quick steps faltered as the blood poured unabated from the open gash in her limb. She hadn’t had time to tend to it before her flight from the charred and bloodied battlefield. The smell of carnage still lingered in her sensitive nostrils, already haunting her senses. She squeezed her eyes shut, and again, she stumbled. Her jaw scraped along the half-frozen ground.

Another wound. Another failure.

The heart perched inside her ribs pounded desperately, attempting to correct for all the things it knew were wrong within her system. The blood was a river now, trailing black in the silver moonlight behind her. She could not go on much longer without doing something about it. Even if she wanted to—which she did—Bastas’ grievously damaged body would not let her.

The only refuge she found was beneath the barren boughs of a tree. The wet stormwind still cut her to the bone. The shaggy dark coat which she had always loved so well offered little protection to her on this night. It had not saved her from the edge of the fiery blade, and it would not shield her from the elements’ wrath.

She collapsed at the base of the wide, gnarled trunk. Her leg throbbed in time with her panicked heart. The fur was matted red, and instead of soothing, the touch of her tongue intensified the agony. The goddess felt her grip on the leopard soul slipping in a way it never had before. She moaned softly to herself, the closest approximation to a keening wail that she could muster.

Everything fell apart, collapsing into dust and sand. This was the world for which she had waited so long.

The color began to bleed from the night, turning velvet blue into shades of flat gray. The bleeding wouldn’t stop. Bastas found herself half in and half out of her beloved animal form, heaving draughts of the crisp, cold air. Each breath brought her a little further back from the edge. She counted them in her head. One. Two. Three.

Four. The shadows were blue and purple again. Five. The blood on the ground was red. Six. The blue-purple shadows were moving.

She blinked. Moving? That wasn’t right. She had purposely gone off to the most desolate reaches of the woods to be alone and have time to recover. No one had permission to see her this way, disheveled and scraping herself off death’s doorstep.

But indeed, someone had come.

She didn’t recognize him at first. The word was that he had become elusive and that his machinations worked far beneath the levels of even the other Forgotten. Bastas had never believed it. He was an Apprenti and an orphaned one at that. No fool bound to a dead master carried that kind of power.

Even if he did move cloaked in shadow.

“Good evening, Lady Bastas.” His voice was silky smooth and unassuming on the surface, as it had always been. It rippled with something else now too, an undercurrent of darkness that made him sound richer and stronger.

The goddess’ golden eyes widened in their sockets. She forgot the persistent dizziness in her head and the weakness engulfing her body.

It was Delano, but it couldn’t be. The metamorphosis he had undergone made him tower over her, shrouded in swirling black mist and his face a lean, angular moon in its midst. He watched her with those pale, expressionless orbs, waiting for a response. Over his shoulders, huge furled wings rested dormant on his back.

Bastas refused to show the fear that lapped bitterly at the back of her throat. She sneered from her place on the ground. “I see the Apprenti has been busy now that his god has fallen. What have you done to mutilate yourself so?”

Delano’s thin lips curled into a smile, and he laughed. The sound of it gripped her in an unshakeable chill. “Irreverent to the end, Lady Bastas.” He sighed. “I had hoped it might not come to this, that you might succeed in your every endeavor and we could rule as equals, more or less. I had a faith in you that I did not have in the others. Alas.” He stroked her hair. “You are no more worthy, in the end. You too have failed me.”

The words cut deeper than the sword into her flesh. “Listen to you,” she hissed. “An abomination speaking as a god.” She moved to turn her head away from him. “Some of us will never forget where you were born, Delano. In the gutter, with the trash of a hundred others before you.”

His hand tightened on her hair. She clenched her teeth. Delano forced her to turn and meet his gaze. “My birth is of no consequence,” he said softly. “The new generation of gods are not born, darling. They are made.”

Bastas’s head rocked backward, the movement beyond her control. The wind ripped across her cheeks. She opened her eyes and stared at the slivers of night-blue sky through the naked branches of her last bastion.

The goddess barely felt the Apprenti’s teeth puncture the skin of her neck.

She barely felt anything as the sky bled slowly to white.

Author Notes

Written November 18, 2018

Dear Readers,

I’m sitting here on the couch with Mrs. Raymond.

The lights are off, the fire is roaring, and we’re both sipping on mint tea. It really is the perfect end to a weekend after running the daughter to rehearsals (Elf, Jr. musical), taking the boy ice skating, and raking six tons of leaves.

It’s also the perfect breather because I stare Thanksgiving in the face and tremble with fear.

Don’t get me wrong. I love Turkey Day and all of its accoutrements. But we do it at the in-laws (who are great), and we’ve added a few more bodies and a couple of dogs to the invite list, which is going to make it a super-packed house… and I’m kind of an introvert in disguise.

Guess I’ll just have to hide in the bathroom and write some stories. Might be a good writer’s retreat!

Okay, speaking of Thanksgiving, I’ve gotta say, I’m in a damned grateful mood. There’s a lot of blessings to count. Family. Health. Daily sustenance. My writing partner. You know, the usual stuff.

But since Lee and I are coming up on an anniversary of writing together, I find myself more and more thankful for you, the readers.

Seriously. Can you imagine how cool it is to make up stories and have people read them WAY faster than you can write them? Well, take my word. It’s a freaking blast, and we are truly, truly grateful.

Also, there are the folks that make up team ST Branton. There’s a lot of moving parts, but one of the most important parts is the JIT (Just in Time) Readers. These are folks that will blow through our book in the matter of a day or two. They catch typos that our editor missed, offer some comments on form and content, and most importantly, they grab some ridiculous continuity errors.

Listen, we all know Lee and I aren’t writing technothrillers. In fact, we are kind of firearm idiots. We don’t know at what speed the bullet-slug-bit is travelling when it comes out of the end of the gun-nose-thingy. See what I mean?

This is usually not an issue. We’re pretty good with magic and maces.

Unfortunately, for us, there were firearms in this one.

Fortunately, for us (and you), we have some JITers who know more about guns than I know about breathing. Looks like he’s saved our gun-ignorant butts more than once.

Anyway. Our readers are great. Our Team is great. Life is good!

On to book seven...

For Kronin,

Chris (for Lee and Team Branton)

Haunted By The Gods

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 7

Prologue

The girl with the pink ribbon had been warned not to go into the forest alone. As she ran, she could hear her mother’s voice, full of loving concern, filling her ears with words of caution. Her voice spoke of darkness, of monsters, and of shadows that moved on their own. She thought those were simply old wives’ tales meant to scare babies, not big kids like her.

Until now.

She could barely hear anything over the sound of the wild drum of her heartbeat in her ears and her own frantic footsteps as she crashed through the brush, but the child didn’t dare slow down. She knew it was there behind her and probably gained ground with each passing second. She thought she heard it breathing.

The taste of fear was bitter on the back of her tongue. She was so focused on flight that she barely noticed the dark, gnarled branches that snatched at her face and left scratches on her arms, legs, and cheeks. One branch caught the end of her pink ribbon and almost ripped it from her hair. The girl yelped in protest. She struggled to free herself, but the ribbon went taut in her hands, hopelessly entangled.

She couldn’t leave it behind. Her mother’s hands had woven it into her hair after breakfast that morning. “My little princess,” Mama had said.

The girl glanced over her shoulder and back down the path of tangled undergrowth. Nothing stood out, but the thing had to be there somewhere, still hunting. Her little heartbeat went into overdrive in her chest. Her every instinct told her to abandon the ribbon and run as fast and as far as her body allowed. If she escaped, she’d be hopelessly lost, but being lost was better than being caught.

The pink ribbon frayed from her desperate tugs. She set her feet in the underbrush and yanked with her whole body. The more she tried, the tighter the knot became. The air weighed heavily around her. Was it darker now too?

A sharp snap brought her attention to the now slack pink strip in her hands. For a moment, her heart sank at the sight of the damaged ribbon, but her disappointment was quickly replaced by relief. Now that the bow was broken, she was free to escape. Guilt welled in the back of her mind, but she could resolve it later.

She spun and fled deeper into the forest, where the sunlight didn’t seem to reach. The trees arched over the narrow passage and their boughs twisted like long, clawed hands locked together. Out of the corner of her eye, they seemed to move—not sway with the breeze but deliberately reach toward her. Behind the mask of branches, knotted faces set with deep, dark eyes grinned maliciously.

A lump grew in the girl’s throat. She pushed it down and willed herself not to cry. Already, the breath ran short in her lungs. She couldn’t afford to waste it sobbing. Still, a few stubborn tears blurred her vision and almost leaked out. She lifted an arm to brush them away and didn’t see the root that jutted from the soil directly in front of her foot. She barely even felt herself trip. All she knew was that suddenly, she sprawled forward and landed hard.

Pain radiated from her ankle but it was dulled by an immediate rush of panic as the girl realized she had stopped her frantic run. She rolled onto her back, and her gaze searched the dimness for a sign of her pursuer. Shadowy tree trunks rose around her, and she knew for sure they were moving now. She could see them shift position and trudge closer to where she lay prone. The movement made the ground tremble—or maybe that was simply her imagination.

The girl choked back more tears and kicked her good foot to scoot herself back along the dirt. Her ankle felt hot, and it throbbed in time with the side of her face that had struck the ground. She was smeared with dirt and leaves, and her once neat hair was now a mess of tangled curls.

Mama would be so upset. But being in trouble was better than being caught, even if it was big trouble.

That was what she thought when the hulking shadow obscured her field of view. Slowly, cold with terror, the girl whose pink ribbon had been lost to the trees turned her petrified gaze upward. The creature she beheld at that moment was almost beyond her comprehension. It had a wild and grizzled, fur-covered appearance, and its wolfish features shielded bronze eyes that gleamed in the shadows. Patches of gray and white stood out along the muzzle. It stood on two feet like a man. That part, she didn’t understand.

The shock gave her enough time to notice the fangs in its mouth. Her senses returned, and she began to scream.

Chapter One

The early winter sun shone brightly, but its warmth did nothing to thaw my numb face and hands. The frozen earth drained my body heat as I lay on my stomach in the grass at the top of our lookout knoll. Dan, our resident military expert, held a position on my right. Luis, reformed small-time gang member extraordinaire, had taken point slightly ahead of us. We peered over the edge of the rise at the scene sprawled below. A group of soldiers about ten strong had huddled all their shit around them as a protective barrier. From my vantage point, I saw a wagon, a couple of beat-up Humvees, and a horse cart minus the horse.

Their protection was nothing fancy, but these guys clearly understood that any barrier was better than none. My interest, though, focused on the boxes in the center of their makeshift hold. A fort like ours could use the large, roomy storage crates.

I glanced at Dan and he nodded.

Luis shot us a look over his shoulder. His trusty rifle was strapped to his back, and he reached tentatively for it. His eyes waited for a signal from either one of us. The problem was that he was in front, which meant he called the shots. The three of us and the group that waited quietly at our backs currently followed him on his first mission.

“Now?” Luis mouthed. He’d given up on the subtle plea for help. As one, Dan and I both shrugged. He rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the cluster of guards around the boxes. With a small frown, he studied them for any obvious weaknesses. I clearly saw an opening at the back of their formation, and I knew Dan had noticed it too. But we kept our mouths shut. The kid had to learn. If things went bad, we could salvage it.

Luis took a deep breath and shook his head from side to side. He held his right hand up in a fist, which quickly sprouted two fingers, and finally morphed into a single forward point. “Now or never,” he said out loud and lowered his head to speak into the walkie-talkie secured to his shoulder. “Go.”

Down below, a swarm of friendlies emerged into the open and engaged the enemy on the front side. As I’d hoped, Luis took our contingent around to infiltrate the back while half the guards were otherwise engaged. We stuck to an army crawl for as long as possible and slithered through the frosty grass.

“Up!” Luis commanded. We sprang to our feet and hit the ground running. I drew the pistol at my hip. It felt weird and oddly wrong not to have the Gladius Solis right there, but I felt that to wield a god-weapon might undermine Luis’s authority a little. Besides, we all knew it was overkill against presumably human opponents. Plus, I had the hilt tucked safely away on the other side of my belt, just in case.

Our bull-rush into the guards at the rear tumbled them like bowling pins. Rather than fire his gun outright, Luis used it as a bludgeon, a much quieter strategy I approved of. Maintaining stealth under these circumstances demonstrated that he had thought ahead and analyzed our best options. I flipped my pistol and head-whipped the nearest guard. He crumpled into a pile, and I moved on. Business as usual.

“Get to the crates!” Luis called. A second enemy appeared in front of me, and I struck him in the face. My concentration was on those boxes. Everything else was a subroutine and nothing I hadn’t done a hundred times before.

Then I saw something new. The center crate, larger than the others, shifted. The side facing me fell open to reveal a masked figure dressed in black. In an instant, I stared down the barrel of a gun.

“Well, well,” a voice said from behind the mask. The words were low and menacing. “Time’s up, hero. You walked right into death.”

I lowered my stance instinctively. The muscles in my core coiled and tightened to propel me the hell out of harm’s way. But before I could react, the masked man pulled the trigger.

A gasp of air rushed into my lungs at the moment of impact. My only thought was, Damn, that hurts. I looked down as a bloom of red burst across my chest and spread so fast that it was hard to tell where it had started, except for the pain.

“Shit!” I shouted. “I’m hit!” That was not how I’d expected my day to go.

Dan swiveled toward the sound of my voice, his eyes wide. “Vic, no!” He charged toward me.

I dropped to my knees. “You’re too late, Dan.”

He slid beside me as I collapsed. Some of the scarlet liquid dripped onto the ground.

“No!” Dan grasped me around the torso and lifted me gently into his lap. “Stay with me, Vic. You can make it.”

I coughed as my hand fumbled toward him. “Tell Luis…this is his fault.” My head rolled to the side, and I exhaled a final breath.

“Vic? Vic! No.” Dan laid me back onto the grass, clenched his fists and lifted them toward the sky, and screamed, “Why?” at the top of his lungs. The sound echoed through the open area. He pointed his finger at the man in the mask. “You!”

The masked man’s laugh started out sinister. “Not so tough without that sword, are you?” he asked. Dan held his defiant position, and after a beat of silence, the bad guy busted out into real, genuine laughter. He pulled his mask off. “Sorry! I’m sorry. This dude cracks my ass up.”

Dan’s face immediately eased into the familiar gregarious grin. He stood and held a hand out to help me up. “I took drama in high school and college, and…uh, obviously, I missed my calling.”

I dusted myself off and winced as my hands brushed over the scarlet paint stain on the front of my vest. “That’s definitely gonna leave a mark.” I wouldn’t say it out loud, but the paintballs packed way more of a punch than I had expected. My left boob was not happy.

“That’s my bad,” Deacon said apologetically. “I didn’t want to fire on you at such close range, but I was too swept up in the plot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “The point was to make it as realistic as possible so Luis can learn. Speaking of…”

I turned as the kid jogged toward me. He took one look at my chest and grinned.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I told him. “But remember, I’m a member of your squad whom you lost on this mission, and that might change things dramatically for the rest of the team.”

He grew solemn. “Right. I gotta work on keeping tabs on all my guys. Or, you know, girls.”

“Nice save,” I answered. “That said, each operative carries the burden of responsibility to make choices that will keep themselves and their squad mates safe. You’re the leader, but once you’re in the thick of it, there’s only so much you can do to protect your crew.”

“Don’t I know that,” he muttered.

I continued. “What I’m saying is, I probably should have prepared individually for the possibility of a trap, even if we didn’t discuss it. And I should have been more cognizant of where I was and what could have happened. If there’d been more than one baddie in those crates, I would’ve been more screwed than I already was.” I gestured to my “bullet wound.” “Assuming that’s possible.”

Luis nodded again. His face was completely rapt, and he hung on to my every word. I would’ve been the last person to appoint myself as a teacher, but he could’ve learned from anyone. He was a sponge for this stuff. “Gotcha, chief,” he said. “Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re not off the hook yet.” I clapped my hands to get everyone else’s attention. “Let’s break for a post-training debriefing in ten.”

They all stopped and snapped a salute. “Sir, yes, sir!”

I gave Dan and Deacon both a look. “Which one of you is running Bootcamp behind my back?”

Chapter Two

The whole company from the training exercise gathered in front of me and filled the middle of Fort Victory’s second common room. We had defaulted to using the living areas for everything, including strategy meetings because no one had yet displayed any desire to enter the building that still stood unoccupied behind the garden. Aside from removing the bodies, not a single soul had set foot in that place since the general’s death. There seemed to be a tacit agreement to try to maintain the fort’s warm, safe atmosphere as long as we could.

To that end, the men and women before me held steaming cups of coffee and hot cocoa in their hands. We were bundled in hoodies, sweaters, and blankets against the cold, and the peaceful drone of quiet conversations permeated the room. I stood with Deacon, Dan, and Luis and surveyed the sea of faces. With a rare sense of peace, I drank in the way things were in that moment. No chaos and no intrusions of sickness or violence. Nothing more than a self-built, self-trained citizens’ militia, working through its training on a normal day.

It felt awesome. We all savored it because we all knew deep down that it couldn’t last for much longer. The gods were still out there. I still had a job to do.

As usual, Dan started the debriefing with a general recap. “Numbers in the casualty reports are down on both sides, which is great news,” he announced. “The fewer people who give up the ghost when it’s all fake, the better. It means you’ll know what to do if it ever gets real. And don’t forget, even if you’re a baddie in training, we want you to live ʼcause when the shit hits the fan, you’ll be on our side.” The recruits murmured. “Now, let’s give our young commanding officer Luis a hand. This was his first mission in the lead, and I think he did a commendable job.”

Applause rose from those assembled, punctuated by a few cheers. Luis smiled somewhat awkwardly in acknowledgment. “Thanks, guys. I’m doing my best out there.”

Dan clapped him on the shoulder. “I see real improvement, my friend. Keep up the good work.”

Luis glanced at me, and I echoed Dan’s support with an encouraging grin. Over the last week especially, the kid had come out of his shell and had proven his worth. Hell, he was the one who’d uncovered the massive stash of paintball equipment in the first place and so made training operations possible. The least we could do was make sure he benefited.

“How are we doing supply-wise?” Deacon asked. “I think these simulations are valuable enough that they’re worth scrounging for stuff if we need to. It wouldn’t be impossible to find a store that carries ammo.”

Dan scrutinized the inventory list he had put together after the cache was found. “If everyone has reported their usage accurately, we’re still good to go for a while,” he said. “I’m thinkin’ by the time we start to run real low, training will be over and we’ll be in the shit again.”

“That works for me,” Deacon replied. “How do you think we’ll look by then?”

Dan winked. “Like a million bucks.”

“Oh, yeah!” a recruit shouted. “We’ll fuck ʼem up!”

Dan snorted. “Settle down, Macho Man.” He scanned his list one more time. “Yeah, it’ll be fine. I don’t think they used much of this stuff before the general showed up, and we all know he didn’t give two shits about training.”

Luis raised his hand and asked, “So who won today?” He had an expression on his face like he knew the answer, but he still asked. I was sure he’d kept a record over the last week or so.

Dan thought about it. “Well…” His gaze bounced between Deacon and me. “All right. Now, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. It’s important to know that the perceived outcome of battle situations often doesn’t reflect directly on individual contribution.”

Luis laughed wryly. “That means our side lost.”

“In the sense that we lost a key member of our battalion, yes.” Dan waggled his eyebrows at me. “Here’s looking at you, Vic.”

I held up my hands in mock surrender. “Sorry, Luis. Deacon got the drop on me.”

“No one expects the jack in the box trick,” Deacon said.

“More like the jackass in the box,” I muttered.

Deacon grinned. “You’re merely sore that you died. It was pretty solid work if I do say so myself.”

“It’s cool,” said Luis. “I’ll take the L for now, but you best believe I’m gonna come back stronger. Next time, we burn everything we see.”

“That could work,” I admitted.

Deacon frowned. “Well, hold on a minute—”

“Not during training,” I interrupted. “But in the field, it’s not a bad idea. Last I checked, the gods are still flammable.”

Shortly thereafter, the meeting was adjourned. I hung around in the front of the room while the recruits dispersed to make the most of their downtime. Dan and his men headed off to change the patrols. Deacon moved in the general direction of the mess hall. Only Luis and I were left. The kid planted himself in a chair by the window. He looked a little bummed out, so I approached carefully.

“Hey,” I said. “You wanna talk?”

He raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

I shrugged. “The training? You did a great job bringing us in the back like that, you know? Dan wasn’t being harsh.” I pulled up another chair and sat before he could wave me off.

“Yeah, I know.” Luis kept his gaze trained on the tree line. “I guess I’m…competitive, you know? I want to win, and it makes me kinda salty if I don’t.” He chuckled and shook his head. “That’s a stupid way to think nowadays, but I can’t help it. Back home, winning was how you survived. You didn’t have any allies. You didn’t trust nobody. If you worked together with someone, everyone else would come and kick the shit out of both of you.” He tapped the side of his head. “I know I gotta adjust my thinking. It’s a real frickin’ process.”

“It is,” I agreed. “I had to do some of that, too. It’s hard, and sometimes it’s scary, and I’m proud of you for being all in on this. We’re in a situation where we don’t have a choice but to depend on each other, so we all have to learn to take care of ourselves as a group. Hell, there might come a day when we’re the strongest ones around and someone else needs our help.”

“I think about that a lot,” Luis said. “How it feels like a free-for-all, but it’s really not anymore. If I kill the group, I kill myself.”

“And everyone else,” I prompted gently.

“And that.” He turned his gaze to me. “I guess I care. Which is hard when you come from the place I did.”

I squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not there anymore, Luis. You’re here, and so are the rest of us. We’re here for you and for each other. I doubt that will change anytime soon.”

He nodded. “Thanks, Vic. Don’t let me keep you.”

I smirked. “You’re eighteen, my man. You can tell me to get the hell out of here and leave you alone.” That finally made him smile again, and that was how I left him. It had to be tough at his age and in the thick of this mess. He was too young to have already lost so much.

But he was alive, at least. That definitely counted for something.

The mood throughout the fort was drastically different than Luis’s sour mood. I felt my spirits lift as I headed to the front exit. The new name over the door was only about two months old, but Fort Victory had so far held true to its title.

At first, the continued attacks had been harrowing, if not quite as dangerous. Once we’d started training extra forces, the clashes turned more and more decisively in our favor. None of the Forgotten who had shown up on our doorstep were anything like the ones I’d seen before in terms of power. Marcus identified them as mostly minor gods and their associated Apprenti, basically wandering riffraff looking for a quick conquest that would boost their notoriety.

Each force soon found out that the people of Fort Victory wouldn’t go down without a fight, and with each successful battle, our collective confidence grew. Dan led small exploratory parties on raids against surrounding outposts he’d found during his efforts to map the area for training. Our territory had gradually expanded, and our supplies with it.

Eight weeks in, it was still too early to tell conclusively, but I certainly felt we flourished. Tucked into our sturdy fortress, we slowly built an oasis, one brick at a time.

That was only inside our walls, though. Outside, the gods and their minions prowled in droves. I could see them from the watchtowers at night as their eyes reflected in the searchlight beams. There was no way to tell how many lurked in the shadows, but I suspected they were like all other vermin—if you saw one, there had to be many more.

They are all in search of their own kingdoms with which to gain prestige among their ranks, Marcus said disdainfully. Soon, this world will be overrun by Forgotten who vie to be seen.

I frowned. “Not if I have anything to say about it.” The cold air smacked my face like an open hand as I stepped across the threshold. There was no snow on the long, wildly overgrown grass, but the threat of it lingered in the atmosphere. I tried not to even consider the possibility. That was a bridge to be crossed when we came to it—if ever.

Most of the Fort Victory watchtowers were now manned around the clock by small teams handpicked from Dan’s best snipers. I shielded my eyes against the sun and noticed the men on shift in the nearest tower. One of them had a pair of binoculars slung around his neck. The lenses flashed as he panned them down toward me.

I waved. He waved back and gave a distant thumbs-up. I returned the gesture and proceeded on my customary rounds outside the gates. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Dan’s men, but I trusted my own instincts first and foremost. And I wanted to be the first to know if anything strange appeared.

This time, there was nothing of concern. The woods were silent except for a constant whistling wind that shook the naked trees. I moved slowly so the background sounds wouldn’t be drowned out by my footsteps. My nectar-enhanced senses caught nothing. I was glad for that, but as I completed my circuit and returned to the fort, I made sure to keep my guard up. A lull in activity meant nothing as far as long-term threats were concerned.

And we still didn’t know shit about the situation in other regions of the country, let alone the rest of the world. I’d learned to be patient about many things, but the communication issue still drove me nuts. Especially because we had a solution already—or we would have if we knew how to make it work.

I shook the heavy winter coat off my shoulders and headed for my room. The halls to and from the residential blocks were crowded, and I didn’t recognize many of the faces. Fort Victory was in the middle of a population boom of lucky survivors who’d been rescued during Dan’s outside missions. It seemed like the closer we looked, the more people we found hunkered down in nooks and crannies the gods had passed over. Someone had commented that we were a colony of people who had squeaked by under the radar. An apt description, but it didn’t sit right with me, and over the past few days, I realized why.

It made us sound like the vermin instead of them, which irked me because it was so untrue. We worked on creating an immovable stronghold, a bulwark against the gods’ dark tide. They were the unwelcome ones. We simply fought to reclaim our rightful place.

I thought about these things a hell of a lot whenever I walked the halls and looked into the happy, earnest faces of everyone we had saved. Long ago, I resolved not to consider the past, but I had the future almost constantly on my mind. How long could we stay there? Where would we go next? Who was out in the wild wasteland right now and possibly moving toward us?

It was impossible to know, and that was why we really needed a functioning communications network. At that point, I would’ve settled for tin cans on a string—anything to make it feel that we weren’t the last human holdout. I pursed my lips, shook my head, and willed the frustration down. Some things were still beyond my control, as much as I hated to admit it.

Odd, Marcus said suddenly. I thought I was hearing things until he added, I have never seen Abraxzael willingly associate with a human other than you. There is a first time for everything, I suppose.

“What are you talking about?” I frowned. “That dude hates humans. He still only tolerates me, and I think that’s mostly because I have a sword that can cut him in half.”

It would appear that his list of exceptions has expanded to include one more. Marcus directed my attention to an open doorway on my right. The room within had been repurposed into a classroom for the fort’s many children. It was currently dark but not dark enough to prevent me from seeing who was in there.

“Wait, is that Jules?” I was too far away to call to her over the background din of so many other residents. As I struggled to approach, I noticed her join the foot traffic moving away from me. “Damn.”

But my timing was perfect to align me with Brax at the door. He barely noted my presence.

“I thought you didn’t trust any humans,” I teased lightly. “Does that mean you know something about Jules that I don’t?”

I’d only meant it as a joke, but his face hardened even more than usual. “None of your business,” he retorted. “I have other shit to do.” He pushed away and strode down the corridor at a fast clip. Others scrambled to get out of his way.

“What the fuck?” I raised an eyebrow. “Why does he have to be such a prick about it? I was kidding.”

We have talked about the beef before, Marcus said. It appears that Abraxzael may be a purveyor of bovine meats after all.

“Yeah, of course, he is.” I turned and continued toward my room. “But not with me.” A feeling of general unease settled in the pit of my stomach, and I suddenly wondered how much I truly trusted Brax. One thing was absolutely for sure. If he was messing with Jules, we would have some really big problems.

“Vic!” The voice reached my ears after I rounded the last corner leading to my room. That stretch of the hallway was significantly quieter, and I turned with some unease, reluctant to get stuck in the crowd again. A few seconds later, Veronica appeared and came toward me with a huge, eager grin on her face. “Hey, I thought that was you I saw! I have some amazing news.”

I smirked. “Oh, really? Tell me you found someone who can build another wing on this place.”

She laughed. “Well, no, but don’t worry. We still have tons of empty beds and supplies.” Her smile brightened. “And believe it or not, people are super happy, Vic. They love living here. We’ve done a good job.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Positive status reports did a lot to ease my mind.

“But even that’s not the great news,” Veronica continued. “You know we’ve processed many people these past few days for intake, yeah? There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I folded my arms. “This is new. Should I be worried?”

“No, you should be pumped,” Veronica said. She practically bounced up and down with excitement. “This lady’s name is Marge, and she’s an engineer.”

I frowned. “Like she drives a train? I’m not really sure how that will help us—”

“No, moron,” Veronica interrupted. “I think she can help us fix the radio.”

Chapter Three

My mouth fell open. “Oh, shit. Seriously?” A grin spread across my face. “Man, screw getting changed and taking a shower. I need to see this lady now. Choo choo! Full steam ahead.”

Veronica laughed. “Dammit, she’s not a train engineer. She’s like an electrical engineer or something.”

I frowned. “You mean she runs on electricity? Like a robot?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “You know what? Forget I mentioned it.”

I grabbed her arm before she could turn away. “No way, Big Red. We could use a robot on our team. We’ve got a werewolf, a vampire, and an FBI agent, but no robot.”

Veronica shot me a quizzical look. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or if you’re fucking with me right now.”

I laughed. “I’m fucking with you. That’s what friends do. Whatever. I’m simply excited.”

She grinned in response. “It is pretty exciting. Being able to find out what’s going on out there? That’s a game-changer.” Veronica led me back through the hall. “I rushed her through as soon as I learned about her skill set. She’s waiting in the front room.”

I wanted to break into a run, but I forced the urge aside and kept pace with Veronica. We’d sat on the radio ever since Steph had happened upon it in the days following the fall of the general. It was sequestered in a room at the back of the fort, and of course, it was smashed to shit. I figured the general probably broke it intentionally after broadcasting his original message. That way, whoever wandered into his lair would have no way of alerting anyone else to where they were.

The broken radio was intensely irritating like he’d found a way to get the last word from beyond the grave. Deacon, Steph, Dan, and I had pored over it for hours in the beginning, but none of us had the required expertise. Marcus, obviously, was no help whatsoever. I knew that if I had a way to contact Namiko, she might be able to fix it. In order to do that, however, I needed something that could transmit.

Like a radio, for instance. The irony was not lost on me.

Eventually, duty called us all back to the responsibilities that evolved into our day-to-day routines, and the radio continued to gather dust beneath its covering. Life at Fort Victory took on its deceptive veneer of normalcy, which we accepted with no small measure of relief. But I didn’t forget about the busted radio shrouded against a back wall.

Our stockpile of provisions began to overflow the pantry, and Jules and Veronica moved the excess into the radio room. Boxes and cans were now stacked around the dead device. Frank and Steph were sent on a side mission to DC to scout out any remaining government or military presence. Dispatching them in person still felt like we had given up on the easiest possible answer to our problems, but the radio remained beyond our abilities to fix. For a while, I’d wondered if there would ever be a day when it was usable.

That day might be today.

Veronica took me to a corner of the front room, where a spindly old woman with a cottony explosion of gray hair sat ensconced in a recliner. Her sneaker-clad feet dangled a good four or five inches off the floor. I did my absolute damnedest to keep my face neutral when it became apparent what kind of individual we had to deal with.

“Marge?” Veronica asked gently and touched one skinny shoulder. The woman’s walnut of a face turned toward her, and two bright, fiercely intelligent eyes stared out. “This is Vic.” Veronica gestured at me. “She’s the one I told you about.”

The old lady’s eyes snapped instantly to me. She gripped the arms of the chair and pulled herself forward until the soles of her sneakers rested flat on the floor and she practically tipped off the seat. “You’re the one in charge here?” Her voice was high and reedy but sharp. She meant business.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “It’s wonderful to meet you. I hear you might be able to help us with some of our tech.”

“Now, don’t go getting too excited just yet, kids.” Marge sniffed. “I’m an engineer, not a miracle worker. If the thing is kaput, it’s kaput, and I don’t want to hear any groaning about it, you understand?”

Veronica hid a smile. “Yes, of course. We appreciate you agreeing to even take a look at it.” She picked up a simple wooden cane that leaned against the wall. “Would you like to do that now?”

The little old lady scrunched her wrinkled face, but she shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “Yes, yes. Let’s see what all the fuss is about, shall we?” She hoisted herself out the chair, took the cane from Veronica, and stomped ahead of us. “I assume one of you would tell me if I was going the wrong way,” she called, “but I don’t think I am. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Where did she come from?” I asked Veronica quietly.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But wherever it was, she’s awesome.”

Apparently, she comes from the rodeo, Marcus added. Although she seems awfully small to be a horse wrangler.

I didn’t have the energy to correct him.

Marge found the radio room without much difficulty or aid from us. She pushed the door open with the end of her cane and hobbled inside. “That it?” she asked and pointed the cane at the radio cover. Her eyes gleamed and zeroed in on the trace evidence of debris still scattered around.

“That’s it.” I grasped a corner of the sheet and whipped it away to reveal the radio’s ruined face in all its jagged, demolished glory. Marge took one look at it and cackled as she leaned on her cane.

“Is that reaction good or bad?” I asked and dropped the sheet to the side. It had been a while since I last saw how bad the radio looked, and I had to admit, the prognosis seemed grim at best.

“Too early to say.” She eased in closer. Veronica brought her a chair, and she plopped her skinny butt down on it and scooted it as near as she could to the radio casing. “We’ll need a screwdriver. Phillips head, if you please.”

The toolbox we’d originally brought in to tinker with the thing still sat in the corner. I rummaged through it for the proper tool and used the screwdriver to remove the front plating of the machine. The inside was a mess of dials and wires and circuitry that I couldn’t begin to understand.

Marge rubbed her chin and mumbled to herself. She leaned in closer and squinted in concentration. Veronica and I stood poised and ready to catch her should she topple off the chair. A few long minutes passed. Eventually, her mumbles stopped.

“What do you think?” I ventured hesitantly. Every fiber of my being was prepared for the worst diagnosis.

This contraption utterly confounds me, Marcus declared. There is something to be said for the written word, I think.

“Not bad,” Marge decreed. “Not bad at all.” She jabbed her thumb in Veronica’s direction. “This one here talked like all you had was a pile of glass and plastic.” She chuckled. “It could be how it looks like to you, but to me?” She nodded serenely. “We can fix this old thing up in a jiffy. I need some new parts, mind you.”

I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. “Are you sure you can salvage it?”

Marge wrinkled her nose. “Honey, you listen to me. I worked at NASA, back in the sixties, on the telecom systems that kept Houston in touch when we got to the moon. Those turned out fine if I recall.”

“Wow,” I said. “Okay, that’s one hell of a resume.”

She shrugged like it was no big deal, but I thought I saw a hint of pride in her eyes. “And that’s only the job I can tell you about.”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asked.

“I think she means she did classified work,” I said. “Top secret stuff, right?”

Marge smiled enigmatically. “You didn’t hear it from me.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, and she looked at the old woman in awe. “I bet you’ve got some great stories to tell.”

Marge nodded. “We all do these days. Everyone here is a survivor, and one way or another, we all went through hell before we got to Fort Victory.”

“That’s the damn truth,” I said. I scrounged up a pen and a scrap of paper. “Tell us what you need to fix the radio and we’ll find a way to get it here for you.” The tip of my pen hovered over the paper and practically vibrated with anticipation.

The old lady looked at me from her perch atop the chair. Her crinkled eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “I can’t say you’re not determined,” she said. “Good. Now make sure you get this all down exactly as I say. If the specs are wrong, the parts won’t work.”

She proceeded to rattle off a list of things that dampened my new-found hope a little. We’d probably be able to gather it all at a regular hardware store, but the hard part would be to head back into civilization. Anything could be out there waiting for us.

I read the list back to Marge to make sure I had everything right. She made a few corrections and finally nodded her old head. The cloud of grey hair bounced around her temples.

“Give us a day or two,” I told her. “A trip to the store isn’t as simple as it used to be, but you’ll have your materials, I swear.”

An impish smile deepened the furrows in the engineer’s face. “Oh, I don’t give a hoot how long it takes.” She chortled. “I’m not going anywhere. Unless I die before you get back, of course.”

I blinked. “Please, uh…please try to stay alive, ma’am. We’ll move as fast as we can.”

Marge scooched her chair back, pushed to her feet, and gripped the top of the cane. “Well—”

Her voice was cut off by a massive, rumbling crash. The entire building trembled, and her balance wavered. Veronica rushed to steady the ancient woman while I raced to the nearest exit, which happened to be the door nearest the garden. From there, it was impossible to see anything other than a huge cloud of dust.

Shouts rang out, quick and panicked. I lunged into a sprint toward the scene of destruction, dreading whatever new surprise the world had in store for me.

Chapter Four

The pile of rubble was taller than me, and it still hadn’t settled when I reached it. The dust rose like smoke and swirled in the breeze. I stood there for a moment, stunned. Only a few minutes ago, this had been a watchtower.

And people were inside it.

The thought cut through my shock and spurred me to action. I bolted toward the jagged mess of broken support beams with my sword at the ready. A couple of the guards had started to work their way out of the tower ruins, but I knew there were more.

“Stay still!” I called. “I can cut you out.”

The men froze. They looked like mice trapped in a maze and stared at me with wide, apprehensive eyes. Around them, the remains of the watchtower creaked and groaned. Pieces of the structure still broke and crumbled away. I had to be careful. One wrong move would start an avalanche of debris that could crush the survivors.

I’d never used the Gladius Solis for this kind of precision work, but I refused to let fear stop me from saving lives. I had to work carefully to ensure these guys escaped unscathed. It was like a high-stakes game of Jenga.

With that perspective, I moved in and began to widen openings with steady care. Where I was able, I lifted rubble out of the way with my hands. The men coughed and shielded their noses and mouths.

“Be careful getting down,” I told them. “This doesn’t look too stable.” They nodded as they scrambled through the exits I had carved.

“Help!” The scream was muffled and weak. “Help me. I’m down here.”

Our heads snapped toward the source of the sound. I threw some of my previous caution to the wind and hacked away a larger portion of the wreckage. A massive support beam lay diagonally through the middle of the watchtower’s former base, and as I moved closer, I saw the lower half of a human body pinned underneath.

“Help!” he shouted again, though his voice was already hoarse. “Can anyone hear me?”

“It’s okay,” I answered without knowing if that was the truth. “I’m here. I’ll get you out.”

I reached the fallen beam, brushed my hands off, and gripped it under the bottom edge. Resolute, I lifted with all my strength. The trapped guard’s compatriots who had already been freed ran up behind me. They joined the effort on either side, followed by several others. We strained together to pick the damn thing up, but it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s caught under something,” someone yelled. “We have to break it somehow.”

I glanced at my sword. The blade would make short work of our task, but at what cost to the man underneath? I couldn’t risk it. Instead, I readjusted my grip on the beam and pulled as hard as I could. The girder shifted slightly. On the other side, the guard made a strangled, hopeless sound.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Shit!” My brain raced for a solution and came up empty. The situation seemed hopeless. If we weren’t able to lift this thing up off of him, there seemed to be nothing left to do.

No. That was unacceptable. I took a deep breath and reached for my sword. As long as I was extremely careful…

Victoria, this is an exceedingly reckless course of action.

“I have no choice, Marcus,” I retorted tersely. “It’s either this or leave him to die, which will not happen.”

You have seen the effects of the Gladius Solis on flesh, both human and monster. Indeed, you have used these effects to your advantage. I should not have to tell you it is inadvisable to expose this man to the blade for any length of time.

I ground my teeth in frustration and wondered how it was that Marcus could manage to be both right and wrong at the same time. Of course, I knew the risk I took, and of course, I hated it, but I couldn’t think of another option.

Before I could formulate a reply, however, my thoughts were interrupted by a fierce female voice at my back. “Move!” she bellowed. The crowd around the beam scattered. In the next moment, Maya grabbed the beam beside me. “Ready, Vic? We can do this.”

I nodded, suddenly filled with a renewed sense of vigor. She triggered her transformation, and we lifted together. Her hulking Were-form dwarfed us all. I heard gasps and whistles from the onlookers. More importantly, the collapsed support moved. Maya roared and surged upward until the end of the beam hovered above the ground. Instantly, the bystanders swooped in to recover the injured guard. They dragged him to safety, and I signaled her to drop her section of the load. It settled into the imprint it had left in the dirt, and we backed away.

“Thanks,” I said to her as I rubbed my shoulder. The nectar gave me super-human strength, but those muscles would be sore tomorrow. “I don’t think we could have pulled that off without you.”

She shrank down to her human form, picked up her coat, and dragged it on. “Don’t worry about it. Do you think you could grab me some clothes? I have to make sure this man gets taken care of, and I’ll work better if I’m not showing my naughty bits off to the entire fort.” She turned toward the place where the rescuers had laid down their injured colleague. “If he’s stable enough to move, we need to get him inside and warm. There’s a stretcher inside with the medical supplies.”

“I know where that is,” a young woman said and darted toward the fort.

Maya knelt by the guard’s side. Very gently, she worked the boots off his feet. “Can you feel this?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” said the guard. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Maya said. “Wiggle your toes for me, please.” Once he did, she breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. You’re not paralyzed. That’s one thing we don’t need to worry about.”

I tore myself away from the scene to fetch the doctor some clothes as she’d requested. The population of Fort Victory knew about Were-Maya, and they knew she protected the shit out of them, so they embraced her. Not least, I thought, because she was so damn great with people. In a group full of well-meaning assholes who were more than a little rough around the edges, I couldn’t have been more grateful for her overflowing compassion.

The girl with the stretcher passed me at the front entrance, a look of absolute determination on her face. I turned for a second to watch her dash to Maya, and a swell of pride formed in my chest. The people in the fort had become a community like one big family brought together through struggle and perseverance. These were my people, and they looked out for one another.

Seeing it reminded me that humanity was worth saving from the gods’ invasion. This was why I fought.

Ten minutes later, I stood guard while Maya ducked behind the watchtower to change her clothes. The stretcher and its human cargo were on its way to the fort infirmary, and everyone else had slowly begun to disperse back to their normal activities.

“Thanks for bringing these,” Maya said from behind a section of the tower’s base. “I didn’t think about the aftermath when I sprang into action.”

“You saved that man’s life,” I told her. “The least I could do is get you a shirt and some jeans.”

“I guess that’s true.” She emerged and grinned as she pulled down the hem of her shirt. “Give me fifteen minutes before we debrief. I want to check on that poor guy and make sure he’s really all right.”

“Lead the way.” I stepped back to let her move in front of me. “I’d like to have Dan take a look at this tower and see if he can figure out why it collapsed. I didn’t realize they were so rickety.”

As if summoned by my words, Dan strode across the grass toward us, his face a mask of concern. “What happened out here?” he asked. “I received a distress call while I was out on patrol.” Maya slipped passed him, and he glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, shit.”

“Everyone’s okay as far as we know,” I assured him. “Maya’s on top of that. But I need you to go over that thing with a fine-toothed comb until you find out why it fell. The towers are useful, but we can’t station anyone up there if it means our troops are in danger.”

“Agreed,” he said. “I’ll have a report for you as soon as I know the cause.” He used his radio to call for assistance and jogged toward the tower site.

Satisfied with his response, I followed Maya toward the sickroom. I trusted her judgment, but it never hurt to see things for myself. And I also tried hard to be more visible around the fort, more approachable—which meant developing some sort of bedside manner. For that, I felt I needed all the help I could get.

Chapter Five

“Hey, Vic.” Maya stepped out from behind the curtained-off section of the med room where the injured guard had been taken. “He’s sleeping at the moment. If you want to talk to him, could you do it later? His body needs the rest right now.”

I blinked. “Oh, yeah, sure.” The realization washed over me that I was out of my element there. More than anywhere else, this was her turf.

“Thanks.” She put her notepad on a table and went to the sink to wash her hands. “Never a dull moment here, is there?”

I shook my head and chuckled. “That’s one way to put it. Actually, I hoped I could grab a minute with you if you have time. We haven’t been able to talk one on one since we got here.”

She smiled. “That’d be nice. Meet you in the common room in five? I have to file my notes before I forget.”

We separated, and I took my time through the halls and absorbed the cozy rhythm of life at the fort. Kids put puzzles together under the watchful eyes of their parents. An older man wearing a bandana on his head gave me a grin and a wave as he methodically mopped the hallway floor. In the common room itself, two teens stood on stepladders and cleaned the windows. I could even smell the aroma of food wafting in from the mess hall.

The gods were still out there, but humanity wasn’t finished yet. We were really making a go of it.

Maya showed up not too long after I made myself comfortable on one of the sofas. She took a seat on the cushion beside me. “Man, it feels good to sit,” she said and closed her eyes. “I feel like I’m constantly on the run.”

“You kind of are,” I said with a smirk. “People probably think you never sleep.”

“I’ve found that naps are a godsend,” she said. “Catnaps.”

“Dog naps,” I responded.

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “If anything, they’d be wolf naps. But I grab them when I can and pray the cumulative sleep deficit doesn’t catch up with me during a crisis.” She paused. “Although I will say, there haven’t been a lot of real disasters since we took the place over. This might be the first one.” She looked proud. Tired, but proud.

“It’s incredible that we haven’t lost anyone,” I said. “And it’s all thanks to our amazing chief medical officer.”

Maya smiled. “Well, I do my best, and conditions here are certainly much better than they were in the woods. Plus, no one has been murdered, which is great. But we’re still a far cry from pre-apocalypse standards. Our medicine stock is limited, and I mean, I’m a vet. I didn’t go to med school, so I can’t definitively give diagnoses if something major goes wrong.” She frowned. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m really, really glad we’re here. But it feels like we’re sitting on a time bomb.”

I’d had that feeling myself more than once. Hearing it articulated by Maya only strengthened my determination to get the ball rolling as far as the gods were concerned.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “The good news is, we’ll finally make some headway on the communications front. Veronica found someone who can fix the radio.”

Her expression brightened. “Hey, that’s great! I’m dying to know what the situation looks like beyond our little sphere. How many people out there haven’t been as fortunate as our little community?”

I sighed. “I know. Honestly, I’m a little afraid to find out, but I have to know the circumstances. And at the same time, I think I’m the only one with a weapon like this, so things can’t look too good everywhere that I’m not.” I glanced at her. “I’m not in a lot of places.”

Maya placed her hand on my arm. “You’re doing great, Vic. We’re so thankful for everything you’ve done. The bottom line is that none of us would be here if not for you.” She chewed her lip. “That said…”

“You won’t offend me, Maya,” I replied. “Trust me. I want what’s best for the group, and if you know what that might be, I’m all ears. At this point, there are no stupid suggestions.”

“Yeah. But we worked so hard to get here that it seems like…” She trailed off. “I guess things are always changing, and the longer we stay here, the more I can’t help thinking that this isn’t a tenable long-term solution.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “We can maintain our defenses and make regular supply runs, but even though this setup is sustainable, we still live in what basically amounts to a prison for however long this lasts.” She looked at me. “I don’t want that for you, or myself, or any of these people. It’s good that we’re safe, but we can’t stay locked up in here forever.”

I nodded slowly as I considered how I wanted to answer. Her point struck a deeper chord with me than I wanted to admit. Part of what had made life bearable in the hellish underbelly of New York City was the complete and utter freedom from everything, even laws. I hadn’t answered to anyone or anything, except the gnawing desire for justice against my parents’ killer, and that had been thrilling in a lot of ways. Granted, I was no longer the unprincipled wild child I’d been back when my quest against Rocco Durant first began, but the idea of spending the rest of my days confined in the fort for safety’s sake hardly appealed to me.

The world did not belong to the gods. It belonged to us. And I needed to get off my ass and take it back.

“We have a ton of work to do still,” I said to Maya. “But I promise, there’s an end to this. I’m not sure when, and I’m not sure how it’ll happen yet. All that matters is that we’ll go after the jackasses who think they can take over. We won’t hide here. We’re merely regrouping, training new people, and building our strength. The gods caught us with our pants down when they invaded. I won’t let that happen again.”

“That sounds good to me,” she responded. “I simply wanted to know we’re not dead in the water, is all.” She gestured around the room. “Two months ago, this felt like paradise to me. I pushed hard for it. Now, I know it’s a necessary compromise. I hope we don’t have to make it forever.”

I shook my head vehemently. “We won’t. I won’t let you down, Maya. You or anyone else in Fort Victory.”

“Of course you won’t, Vic.” She smiled. “You never have.”

We walked out of the common room together and she peeled off to return to the infirmary. I was on my way to take that long-deferred shower when I heard purposeful bootsteps behind me. I turned to see Dan, fresh from outside and his cheeks ruddy with the cold. “I have a preliminary report,” he said, slightly out of breath.

“That was fast,” I said.

He shrugged. “It wasn’t hard to reach a conclusion once we found what we were looking for.”

The phrasing piqued my interest. “And what was that?”

Dan held his hand out and opened his fingers. A few thick bolts rested in his upturned palm. “It was a little hard to determine at first, but once we recovered and organized the supports, we saw a pattern. That tower was riddled with loose bolts. It was simply waiting to come down.”

I furrowed my brow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” He stuck the bolts in his pocket. “My guess is that the general did it when he moved in, perhaps to keep his guys on their toes or to thwart any attempt at a coup. Or this place is simply in worse shape than it looks. Either way, I’ve dispatched task forces to the other towers to make sure they’re sound. I’ll let you know what we find.”

“It’s been months,” I said. “Why did it take so long to fall?”

Again, he shrugged. “Not all of them were compromised but enough to throw structural integrity off. It’s possible the general didn’t even know and we drew the short straw. In any case, we can make sure it never happens again.”

“Right. Good. Go do that.”

He left and I went to my room, gathered a towel and some fresh clothes, and sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes as I mulled things over. Maybe that crazy old coot had meant for us all to be part of his grand sacrifice—including his own men. “Hey, Marcus? Sorry I snapped at you before. I was stressed out.”

It has all worked out for the best, Victoria. What troubles you? You never apologize unless your mind is heavy.

“Wow, that’s cold,” I said. “But also true.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “I want to be prepared for what lies ahead, and I realize now that it’s already pretty bad, isn’t it? These fuckers are totally ruthless.”

I believe it would be best for you to focus on one thing at a time, rather than get mired in possibilities. There is nothing you have learned here about the Forgotten that you did not already know.

“Yeah.” I sucked in a deep breath and told my mind to be quiet. There was no point in getting nervous about a bridge we hadn’t crossed yet. “Okay. What’s next, then?” That last question was more to me than to Marcus, but he answered anyway.

The future device requires repair.

“It’s not a future device, dude.” I laughed a little. “Radios have been around for over a hundred years.”

And I have been around for two millennia. Almost all things are the future to me.

“Nah,” I said, still smiling. “You’re the distant past. When this is over, we’ll find you a nice museum to settle down in.”

He grumbled. I find this retirement plan…objectionable.

Chapter Six

I handpicked the squad for the radio run—it was me, Deacon, Dan, Luis, and a couple of Dan’s best guys. Dan nailed down the location of a place that might have the parts we needed. “Twenty miles out,” he said. “It’s a medium-sized town, so that might mean it’s more dangerous, but it has a hardware store. And a mall, if that fails. I think it’s extremely likely that we’ll run into someone down there, so it’s best to be prepared for anything.”

“By ‘anything’ you mean ‘the worst,’ right?” I joked.

He winked. “You got it. But I, for one, will expect the best.”

“We don’t have any intel at all about possible enemies?” Deacon asked. “Not that I don’t think we can deal with whatever we find, but it’d be nice to know in advance.”

Dan pointed at my sword. “Unless that thing is secretly a metal detector for all things unholy, we’re shit out of luck.” They looked at me expectantly.

I made a face. “What, like it’ll start to screech every time a god is near? I don’t think so.” I patted the hilt on my hip. “Don’t worry about it. We can handle this. We’re cool.”

Deacon smirked. “Some of us are, anyway.” He gave Dan a meaningful look. They high-fived.

“I take it back,” I said. “I’m cool. You guys are lame.”

We loaded into the trucks and headed onto the road. Deacon and I led the way in the vehicle with the smaller cab, armed with a map Dan had drawn us from his satellite information. The highway was long and emptier than ever. Cars stood abandoned on the pavement although all their headlights were now dead. I hoped their occupants had fared better.

Deacon glanced in the mirrors as we drove. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to a sight like this,” he said.

“Good,” I answered. “We’ll put it all back to normal, so you don’t have to.”

“I look forward to that day.” We reached an open stretch, and he put his foot down on the gas pedal. The engine rumbled. “One good thing about the dissolution of the police force is that we’re allowed to have a little fun.”

“Weren’t you a cop at some point?” I asked.

“It seems like another lifetime now.” Deacon kept his eyes on the road. “To answer your question, yes. But doing the work doesn’t mean I always believed in it, or that I can’t appreciate the joy of driving real damn fast on a clear road.” Having said that, he stepped on the brake almost guiltily. “But I better make sure we don’t lose the others.”

“Uh huh.” I nudged him playfully. “Show off.”

Deacon laughed. “Caught me. Any chance to look good in front of the resident badass.” Our eyes met in the mirror.

I smirked. “Talk is only gonna get you so far, Agent St. Clare.” I held his gaze for a few moments longer before the smirk turned into a laugh. “It’ll have to be later, though. We have to take care of business first.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play,” he quipped. But I could see him getting into the zone as we drew closer to our destination. The telltale signs of urban sprawl popped up along the edges of the highway. Restaurant and hotel signs dotted the landscape that rolled by outside the window.

Deacon glanced at the map and pulled off on a long, curving exit ramp that brought us down onto the main road of a sizable town. It had undoubtedly once been lively and bustling, like so many of the places we passed. As it stood now, the sheer emptiness was overwhelming.

“Keep an eye out for a hardware store,” I said. “Or that mall Dan mentioned.”

“Let’s do the hardware store first. I have a feeling we might regret the mall.” He cruised down the center of the street and paid little mind to the streetlights still hanging overhead.

“In case of more zombies?” I asked.

“More anything, really.”

We lapsed into silence for the next few minutes, and each of us diligently surveyed the surroundings.

I tapped his arm when I saw a weathered yellow sign on a pole. “Look, there’s a Value Hardware.”

“Bingo,” Deacon said. He stuck on his blinker and steered into the lot.

“I like how you blatantly disregard stuff like lanes and traffic lights but remember your blinker,” I teased as I opened my door.

“Some things are non-negotiable,” he responded.

We joined Dan, Luis and our two support guys on the asphalt. The six of us studied the front windows of the store.

“What’s the plan?” Dan asked. “Grab and go?”

I fished in my pocket for Marge’s list and passed it around the huddle. “Here’s what we need. Memorize as much as you can and grab whatever you see when you get in there. If we’ve got extras, that’s great. It means we won’t be completely screwed if the thing breaks again.” I hesitated. “And if you see something unfriendly, holler. We’ll back you up.” I surveyed my team. “Any questions?”

Dan shook his head. “It sounds simple enough. Let’s get this done.”

The automatic doors still worked in the front of the store. As on all the supply runs before, we stepped into an eerie oasis of stillness, a snapshot of a store suspended in time. There were more signs of distress there than in other places—merchandise on the floor, an abandoned employee vest with the nametag still attached splayed out on the tile, and a pricing gun that lay on its side where someone had evidently dropped it in a panic. But there was no blood, only signs of general chaos.

I clapped my hands. The sound rang out like a gunshot through the store. Dan’s two men jumped and wheeled to look at me.

“Sorry,” I said with a smile. “It’s time to make like this is a game show and haul some serious ass. No one’s here right now, but they could easily show up, and I’d rather not be caught in the middle of our shopping spree.”

“You heard the lady,” Dan said. “Scramble!”

I grabbed a basket off the rack near the front and darted down the aisles in search of anything that even looked like what we needed. Whole rolls of wiring went into the basket, as did tools and circuit boards and packets of tiny screws.

“Get the brand names!” I yelled to the others. “We’re not paying for shit, so you might as well.”

They laughed.

I felt pretty good. Oddly, these little errands were some of the times when I felt most at ease. They were fast-paced, I knew exactly what I needed, and I was always on the edge of a full-on adrenaline rush, ready for a fight.

This time, it didn’t look like we’d have to worry about any trouble. In the empty checkout lanes, we swiped some bags for our stuff, double-checked the list, and headed out with our arms full.

“I’d call that a roaring success, Dan proclaimed triumphantly. The words had barely left his mouth when they were abruptly punctuated by the crash of shattering glass. “What the hell was that?”

Luis’s mouth dropped open. “Over there.” He pointed. “Revenge of the Bros!”

At first, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I followed the direction of his finger and saw a whole brigade of all too familiar bronzed beach bodies pour out of the broken front window of the fitness center next door.

“Are you kidding me?” I clutched my bag tighter. “I thought we left these meatheads in the city.”

“They didn’t die?” Deacon asked, bewildered. “Or, I don’t know, turn back into normal people?”

“After that much tanner?” I asked. “There’s no hope.”

“Point taken.”

The bodybuilders in front put their heads down like bulls and charged headlong in our direction. Nothing appeared to deter them in any way—they raced over curbs, uneven grass, and the concrete bars demarcating the ends of the parking spots.

Deacon dropped his bag and drew his gun. “Fight!” he shouted.

They may be weaker without Beleza around to bolster them, Marcus advised. However, if they were converted of their own free will, his absence will not matter much at all. They may simply remain under his thrall as well. I am not sure of the length of his reach or his current location.

“He might be close,” I muttered. “Noted.”

The good thing about Beleza was that he wouldn’t be hard to spot if he did show his gleaming face. The guy would’ve stuck out anywhere, but I didn’t have time to think about that, even if I wanted to. His minions had covered the ground between us in a shockingly small space of time.

I had barely enough time to draw my sword before it was buried in the manscaped chest of a beach volleyball enthusiast gone wrong. His piercing blue eyes went wide and stayed that way. His features hardened, as did his hands around the sword’s hilt. I pried the weapon free, and his fingers broke off. There was no blood or even bones in the wounds. He was bronze, through and through.

“I saw these guys in New York,” Luis said. His rifle rattled off an automatic burst, and I saw another bronzed man become a statue. “What the fuck are they doing here?”

“Who knows?” Another took a powerful swing at me and I lopped his right arm off by reflex. Unbalanced, he lurched forward and received a sword in the stomach. “Get rid of them and let me know if you see anything bigger.”

Luis shot again. “I better not.”

I still had my eyes peeled for Beleza himself, even though I was fairly sure he would’ve made himself known if he was there. These dudes were mostly scantily clad sluggers and no match for the sword. I decorated the parking lot with weird, grotesquely hyper-realistic statues of beefy men in thongs.

“It looks like an art installation,” Deacon commented. “Do you think we could get a grant?”

“The National Endowment’s never seen anything like it,” I replied.

“Uh oh.” Dan stared at the broken window of the gym. “I retract what I said about a roaring success.”

Two musclebound humanoids, even bigger and bulkier than the rest, emerged from the fitness center and wielded long heavily weighted bars. Their faces were glued in permanent weightlifters’ grimaces, and the veins on their arms and necks protruded. They spun the weights like staffs, so fast that I could hear them slice through the air.

“You jinxed it, Dan,” I said. “Hang back. I’ll cut those things down to size.” The sword hummed in my hand.

Aim carefully, Marcus said. They will likely attempt to crush your skull.

“They can have it,” I said lightly. “It’s pretty empty anyway.”

The nearest guy lifted his weapon above his head. I dashed in and swept my blade up from the underside. A few sparks flew as the metal made contact before the two pieces of the bar flew apart. I gutted the wielder before he even had the chance to figure out his next move.

His partner, on the other hand, proved to be a little savvier. He had deflected half the flying weight, and now he brought his staff down toward my head. I flung my sword arm up and felt the Gladius Solis cleave through something. The edge of a bundle of weights clipped my ribs as it fell and a dull pain crashed through my side. I teetered, regained my footing, and parried the second strike. The cut end of the weight bar glowed and smoked, inches from my skin. Beleza’s minion reared back. I took the opportunity to run him through cleanly in more or less the spot where his weight had hit me.

“That’s payback for the bruise I’m gonna have tomorrow,” I said.

Deacon gave me a look. “Now who’s showing off?”

“Oh, please.” I waved him off. “If I was showing off, I wouldn’t have gotten hit.”

“To be fair,” he said, “that was more about physics than anything else.”

“It doesn’t matter.” I walked toward the trucks. “My perfect record is ruined.” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Wait a minute. Where the fuck are the bags?” Our sweet haul from the hardware store was nowhere to be seen. “Oh, no. No, no, no.” I grabbed my head in both hands and squeezed. “They didn’t get anywhere near the damn trucks. We made sure of it.”

“The bags?” Deacon’s look of confusion morphed into one of equal horror. “Shit.”

“How the fuck did this happen? What do they even need with all that stuff?” Legitimate nausea crept into the back of my throat. I looked toward the store. “We cleaned that place out—”

“Looking for this?”

I turned so fast I practically gave myself whiplash, only to see Luis sitting in the bed of one of the trucks with a huge, shit-eating grin on his face. He had every bag in there with him, laid down on its side so I wouldn’t see it. “You little—” I ran over and flicked his ear before he could dodge. The pain didn’t stop him from cracking up.

“You shoulda seen your face just now,” he hooted. “That was straight-up gold.” Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Deacon, Dan, and the two other guys struggle to keep their poker faces. Truth be told, so did I. Luis was a funny kid.

Even if it was at my expense.

“I’m glad you jerks think so,” I said and stalked to the driver’s side of my truck. “I’m driving back. Good job on this run or whatever.” But before I shut the door, I shot them all a massive, goofy grin. “Last one back to the fort’s a statue in a man-thong.”

Chapter Seven

Fifteen miles of breakneck highway racing later, the lighthearted mood was on the backburner again in my and Deacon’s cab. For the last five miles of the journey, I fretted quietly about whether or not the radio could actually be fixed or if Marge was merely quirky and bluffing. Everything she’d said about her past experiences was unsubstantiated, and yet, I’d trusted her. My excitement over the prospect of a fixed radio trumped all the lessons I had learned about blind faith.

I felt more nervous than doubtful, though. I was so desperate to hear something—anything—about the outside world that I didn’t want to even consider the idea that the radio might be unfixable. Still, it had looked smashed beyond repair to me.

We pulled into our spot outside Fort Victory, and I couldn’t shake the mounting apprehension as I killed the engine. I didn’t say much, simply grabbed some bags and rounded up everyone else. Dan and Luis still laughed and joked with one another, but by the time we made it to the radio room, I was ready to jump out of my skin.

“Luis,” I said. “Do you know anything about radios?”

“Me?” He laughed. “I told you the first time we looked at this mess, I learned how to put computers and electronics and stuff like that together when I was younger. I never said I knew how to bring them back from the dead.”

“If someone else did the heavy lifting, could you help?” I sorted through the contents of the bags at light-speed and put it all into piles that I hoped Marge would be able to navigate easily.

“I can do some of the heavy lifting,” Luis said quickly. “I remember enough, I think.” He frowned. “What are you doing?”

“I’m streamlining the process as much as I can,” I answered. “And when I bring her in, you’re gonna be her new best friend until that radio is functional again.”

“Her?” Luis arched his eyebrows.

Dan moved in and took the list. “We’ll handle the prep. You go get her.”

“Who’s ‘her?’” Luis asked.

“You’ll find out,” Dan said.

I located Marge in the same place I’d met her, perched in a chair in the front room. Her dark eyes scanned her surroundings like laser pointers. I almost heard the beeping of a target system when they locked onto me.

“Hello, dear,” she said as I made my way to her. That high, thin voice cut through the room and straight to my ears. “I trust you’re doing well on my little scavenger hunt?”

The words “scavenger hunt” did little to inspire confidence in me, but I hid my feelings behind a falsely enthusiastic expression. “Actually, we just finished it.”

“Oh!” Her crinkly eyes lit up with a mischievous sparkle. “I must say, I’m impressed.”

I shrugged modestly. “I guess you could say I was dedicated to the challenge.” Carefully, I offered the tiny old woman my arm. “We’ve put the supplies in the radio room if you’d like to take a look.”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Marge took one of my hands in both of hers and hopped down off the chair. Her cane was hooked over one of the arms, and I handed it to her.

“I’ll have assistants, won’t I?” she asked and gestured vaguely at her face. “These old eyes and hands aren’t what they used to be.”

“You sure will,” I said. “I assembled a team for you.”

“You’re too kind.” Once we reached the hall, she released my hand and went ahead. She moved so fast that I didn’t have time to warn anyone in the radio room about her arrival. The door was open, and she walked right in.

I heard Luis say, “Are you lost, ma’am? Let me help you.”

“You must be my assistant,” Marge said. “In which case, you can absolutely help me. This job is too big for one old woman to handle alone, you know?”

That was when I rounded the corner into the doorway. Luis stared at me, dumbfounded. He motioned toward Marge’s back and mouthed, “Her?”

I nodded and grinned. “I see you’ve already introduced yourself to Luis, here. Consider him at your beck and call for the duration of the project. Anything you need or want, he’s your man.” I could see his intense desire to object but bless his heart, he kept his mouth shut. He knew we needed her as much as I did.

If I’d been paying him, I would’ve given the kid a raise.

Dan was still there too, and as the great restoration got underway, he brought in more helping hands. Even with three personal assistants, the work was slow and painstaking, and Marge was clearly not the easiest boss to work under. After the first hour, her voice was like listening to nails on a chalkboard.

It was a good thing I couldn’t sit still anyway. I wanted to be in there and bear witness to the process, but I constantly jumped up and paced circuits of the room, which wasn’t that big to begin with. Also, I had a nearly pathological need to monitor the radio’s progress, and that annoyed everyone who actually worked on it. It didn’t take long for Luis and Dan to put their tools down, look me dead in the eye, and say, “Vic, you have to leave.”

“You’re driving us nuts,” Luis added helpfully. “You keep walking in circles like that, you’re gonna make me seasick.”

“And this is a landlocked state,” said Dan.

Marge interjected, “No distracting the personnel.”

I huffed. “Fine. See you guys later. Let me know when it’s done.” I slipped out of the room and resumed my pacing up and down the hallway outside. It was better, I had to admit. More space and less irritated glares. I walked up and down that corridor until my legs were too exhausted for me to continue and I sat with my back to the wall. Hours passed in fitful dozing while I listened intently for any sign of progress on the other side of the door. Occasionally, someone would leave to get a snack or go to the bathroom, but no one gave me a meaningful update.

They probably thought I would eventually go away. Instead, when I decided I couldn’t sit and catnap anymore, I stood and resumed my pacing. The back hallway was not near a window, so I had no idea what time it was. I fiddled absently with Marcus’s medallion while I moved. He had been quiet throughout this whole process. Even he didn’t want to deal with me in this state.

“Vic?” I was so lost in my own little world that the first utterance of my name didn’t register. “Vic? Are you okay?”

Jules stood in front of me, a worried look on her face. “Oh, hey, Jules. I’ve been exiled from the radio room, that’s all.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “It’s not going well?”

“I think it’s going fine,” I said. “I hope it’s going fine. I’m anxious about it, and that makes everybody crazy. They have enough to do without me hovering.”

“Well, that’s true.” She took me by the arm and led me to the nearest chair. “Sit down for a minute. You’re making me jumpy just looking at you.”

I didn’t want to sit down, but I did as I was told. All the energy that had been expressed through pacing immediately bubbled up in my core. I fidgeted. “I just…I want it to be over. I want to know if it’ll work.”

“It will,” Jules said. She put her hands on my shoulders. “Try to relax, okay? Working yourself up won’t make them go any faster or the wait any easier. You saw what shape that radio was in. It’ll take time.”

“Yeah.” I had already given myself the beginnings of a headache. “I don’t have any patience right now, and that’s a problem.”

“Let’s try this,” she suggested. “Is there something else you can think about instead? Sometimes, a distraction is the best medicine. Look at me and think of anything else. We’ll talk about it if you want. I’ll get you some coffee.”

She went toward a coffee machine situated on one of the tables in the closest common room. I stayed on my chair, watched her select a mug, put a filter in the machine, and fill up the grounds. She pressed the button, and as she watched it brew, a weird memory surfaced in my mind. Jules and Brax had stood alone in that converted classroom, talking. About what? Those two were like night and day.

This was my chance to get to the bottom of it.

She came back with the cup in her hands and transferred it to me. “Careful, it’s hot.” She’d stuck a stirrer in the liquid, although traces cream and sugar on top indicated I should stir it.

“Thanks,” I said. “I decided what I want to talk about.”

“Oh yeah?” She beamed. “See? I knew you could do it.”

“What were you and Brax discussing in that room?” The bluntness was calculated to catch her off guard, to make her slip and show her hand. I knew Jules better than I’d known myself for a long time. Public defender or not, if she thought she could keep a secret from me, she was sorely mistaken.

“What?” The shock manifested clearly on her face for a split second before she managed to mask it.

“I saw you,” I pressed. “You left before I could get in there and ask you what was up.”

Jules hesitated and pressed her lips together. “That’s private,” she said at long last.

Her response shocked me. “What? Jules, I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve said that to me in your life. And now you’re having private conversations with a demon?” I paused for emphasis. “You know that’s what he is, right?”

“I know that.” Her exasperated tone of voice suggested that she had expected this type of reaction. “He told me himself. He’s been very forthright.” She folded her arms. “You’ve spoken with him more than I have. You should know.”

“I don’t speak to him in private anywhere, let alone in dimly lit side rooms,” I insisted. “What’s going on here, Jules? Whatever it is, you don’t have to hide it from me.”

She gave me a skeptical once-over. “You’re literally judging me as you say that,” she said.

“I have never judged you, ever.” I crossed my finger over the left side of my chest. “Cross my heart.” She said nothing. “We’re best friends, Jules. You can’t leave me hanging like this.”

The moment she opened her mouth to respond, the radio room door banged open and stopped us both. Luis stuck his head into the hallway. He looked tired, frazzled, and exhilarated.

“Boom, baby!” he yelled. “This radio station is open for business.”

Chapter Eight

I stampeded into the room and left Jules in the corridor. Everyone crowded around the radio’s crudely repaired casing. Circuitry and wiring still showed through gaps and a constant buzz of static emitted from the speaker. Marge was at the tuner and turned the dial with her skinny fingers, her head cocked to the side. Dan and his men stepped aside to make space for me beside her.

“This is awesome,” I told her. “Thank you so, so much.”

She smiled without taking her eyes off the display. “Oh, it was nothing, dear. You went to all that trouble to get me my things. The least I could do was use them. Here.” She pushed her chair back. “You take over. I figure you must know what you’re looking for better than I do.”

“Uh, yeah.” I stepped in front of the device and looked at the dials. “This thing will broadcast to other radios, won’t it?”

“If they have a receiver, I don’t see why not,” said Marge.

My next question was the one that made me really nervous. It hadn’t occurred to me to ask while the radio was broken—I’d simply taken it for granted. “And how far will the signal go?”

“Hmm.” She scratched her chin. “Well, this is shortwave radio we’re talking about, which means skywave propagation. And it’s a good one, military grade…” She faded off into indistinct mumbling about digital modes and finally returned. “I suppose you could hear overseas with it if you wanted to.”

My heart jumped. “That’s more than enough. I was worried about reaching California.”

She barked a laugh. “California on this baby? Easy as pie. We might even be able to do it right now.” She scooted in and manned the dials. “Assuming whoever you’re trying to reach is listening, that is. The sun’s not awake over there yet.”

I cleared my throat. “Um, speaking of that, I’m sorry to have kept you up all night. I didn’t know it would take this long.”

She flapped a hand at me. “It’s been years since I’ve had this kind of mental stimulation. If it takes me to an early grave, so be it.”

The numbers on the digital readout cycled back and forth and the pitch of the static undulated. At moments of dead air, Marge stopped turning and picked up the microphone. “Hello?” she called. “Anyone out there?”

Five minutes stretched into ten, fifteen, and twenty. All of us except the old woman with the puffy hair held our breath and waited for a response. My high hopes flagged a little as we approached half an hour with no response.

Then the static skipped. Marge called out again. And a voice eked out from behind the veil of static. “Yes, I read you. It’s not very loud or clear, but I read you.”

“Excellent!” Marge exclaimed jubilantly. “Who is this?”

“My name is N—” The voice cut out, stuttered and returned shakily. “Namiko. I’m in California, and I’m trying to—trying to reach s—someone.”

“Namiko!” I practically shouted. I had known—or at least I had hoped—as soon as I saw the radio that I might be able to reach her on it. If anyone in the country had a working radio setup, it was probably her. The validation of my theory left me giddy with happiness and relief. “It’s Vic! I’m here!” I was reasonably positive that the person she was trying to reach was me.

“Whoa,” Namiko said. “No—no way. It finally worked.”

“Finally?” I leaned forward. The static was so thick she was barely audible. “You’ve been trying to get through?”

“Only every day for—five weeks,” she said. “Almost twenty-four-seven. I didn’t even know if it was possible, but I guess it paid off.” The static swelled briefly. “Listen, I don’t—time to chat. We’re not in the safest place, and we do what we can during the daylight, before the—comes out. I have to get going soon.”

“Okay,” I said. “Okay. Give me the quick rundown. How are things on the West Coast?”

“Could be better, could be worse,” she said. “On the—hand, there are gods all the hell over the place, and they—not friendly. On the other, I’m linked up with a citizens’ resistance—now, and we’re getting shit done. When—can, anyway.”

“Us too, sort of,” I replied. “We’re holed up in a fort with a big group, but I don’t know how long it’ll last.”

“Groups are—all over the place,” Namiko continued. “We’re trying to band together to fight the gods. I’ve established a communications hub where I am so I can try to keep everyone updated. Leave your radio tuned to this frequency, okay? I broadcast every night when we’re battened down.”

“Do you know what gods are out there with you?” I asked.

“Not—much. Whoever it is, they’ve taken over a huge part of the Pacific Northwest. You know anything about Olympic National—”

“National what?” I leaned even closer as if that would help. Marge twisted the dial a fraction of an inch, and Namiko’s garbled voice became slightly clearer.

“National Forest. They’re living in it. It’s huge. In Washington.” There was a pause. “I was in contact with a girl from there for a while. Out by that area where the werewolves were, near Seattle. She said she knew you.”

“Me?” I frowned.

“Yeah. Her name is Amber. She lives with her grandpa. He has a real old man name that I can’t remember.”

“Oh, shit! Amber and Smitty.” I couldn’t believe Namiko had been in touch with them. “Are they okay?”

“I don’t know,” Namiko said. “That’s partially why I wanted to get in touch with you so badly. I last heard from Amber a while ago, and I think something’s wrong. We had checked in daily before that.”

“Oh, no.” I ran my hand through my hair. What would I tell Maya? “Nothing from her at all?”

“Not a thing. I’m worried about her, and it extra sucks because she had a lot of information on those gods up there. They like the forest because they’re some sort of tree people, is what she said. But she also mentioned fire a lot, which I feel doesn’t really go with the forest thing?” Another pause. “Crap. I need to go soon. I have a name written down here somewhere.” The static took over again, then abated. “Here! Oxfam? Oxtail? Oxy…lean? That’s not right, but it’s something like that.”

“Thanks, Namiko,” I said. “We’ll figure it out. You get to safety. Take care of yourself.”

“I’m fine,” she said brightly. “No worries here. We’ll be in touch.”

“For sure. Over and out.” I set the microphone down and straightened to stretch my back and shoulders. A strange well of emotion had opened in me on hearing Namiko’s voice for the first time in ages, and I had to take a moment to shut it off. I turned to the team behind me who all awaited the next step. “Dan?” I asked.

He stepped forward, all business. “Here.”

I looked at him. “Is there anyone you know who could get us across the country?”

Chapter Nine

I squinted blearily at the sunrise over the rim of a coffee cup and tried to focus on anything but the dull, no-sleep headache that percolated at my temples. The urge to close my eyes was incredible, but I’d lost my chance to sleep. Any minute now, Dan would return with a pilot. If all went according to plan, we’d be in the air shortly thereafter and wing our way toward Washington.

The decision hadn’t been easy. All night, we stayed up and debated back and forth. Although I had wanted to go as soon as I heard Namiko’s voice, I understood why someone might want to stay at the fort. And whether I liked it or not, someone would stay—a lot of people. Fort Victory was home to our tribe now. Whatever we did, we had to make sure the facility remained up and running.

There was no way around it. We would need to split up. I made the choice to go after Smitty simply because I refused to abandon him. That little Washington hamlet stood out in my mind’s eye as clear as the day I first saw it. I remembered the old blacksmith and his strong-willed granddaughter and how they’d rallied behind me when I needed them. The way I saw it, to not go now would be nothing less than a betrayal.

I had to know what happened. Why did Amber and Namiko suddenly lose touch? I didn’t know Amber extremely well, but she wasn’t the type to abscond without a reason, especially in times like these. Namiko knew it too. If Amber’s radio went dead, there was a huge problem. The thought of what we might walk into made shivers creep along my back and arms.

And we had already lost so much time.

I took a long sip of coffee and hoped the strong, dark elixir could inject some calm into my jittery nerves. It had been weeks, Namiko had said, since she’d last heard from Amber. She’d been stuck in California running her comms hub, or she probably would’ve traveled north herself. Frustrated that her hands were tied, she had instead focused on compiling all the data she received from Washington, the same intel she passed on to me.

“Marcus, are you awake?” I asked a little drowsily. “I think we should review.” It was all information I had spent the past twelve hours scrutinizing in painstaking detail, but if nothing else, it would help me stay conscious.

Always. I no longer possess a biological need for sleep.

“Okay.” I shook my head. “That’s…weird. What do you do when—no, you know what? Some things should remain a mystery.” I set the coffee cup down, leaned back in my chair, and once again resisted the powerful compulsion to allow my eyelids to droop until they shut. “Anyway, Namiko says this god near Amber and Smitty has taken over Olympic National Forest. Well, I had Dan look it up, and guess what? The land is freaking huge.” I shuffled through the pad on which various notes were scribbled in my own sleep-deprived, barely legible hand. “Something like twenty-five hundred square kilometers. I’m not sure how much that is in miles, but it’s still a lot.”

I would call that a generally accurate statement, yes.

I stifled a giant yawn. “It makes me think there must be more than one holed up in there. We’ve never seen a single god dominate an area like that before. Not even Lorcan.”

It is quite a formidable tract of territory, said Marcus. We must assume its borders will be jealously guarded.

“Yeah, of course,” I agreed. “Whoever they are, they won’t allow us to simply waltz in there and take it back. What I want to know is what we’ll find. More werewolves maybe? A stronger kind?”

Lupres’s influence may yet linger, but since he is dead, I strongly doubt his remaining followers could grow in power. It’s more likely that this is a newcomer, one we have not yet seen. Your friend gave you a name, did she not? He paused. Although I believe her pronunciation left much to be desired.

“Oh, yeah.” I passed a hand over my eyes. “Ox-something. Oxford. Oxbow. Oxygen?”

The Centurion chuckled. I do know of a forest god named Oxylem. As for his powers, I cannot say for sure. His magic stretches back much further than many others. It is primitive in a way, ancient and wild. Its danger is not to be underestimated.

I fished a pen from my pocket and scribbled on the bottom of the note page as I repeated aloud. “Oxylem—old as balls. Don’t know what he does but can safely assume it sucks.” I thought briefly. “Maybe it has something to do with fire. Namiko said Amber always talked about fire.”

Marcus hesitated for a long minute. I cannot say I understand that piece of the puzzle. I would think that, of all things, a forest god could be expected to avoid flames at all costs.

“Or,” I volunteered, “that’s what he wants you to think. He might be a god of forest fires.”

No, said Marcus patiently. Oxylem is not that. In fact, I cannot think of any flame wielders at all who could be associated with him. This is quite perplexing.

“Well…” I frowned. “I guess it’s always possible that Amber was mistaken.” Even as I said the words, though, I knew I didn’t believe them. Amber was too bullheaded and inquisitive not to have thoroughly investigated any strange occurrences. Hell, she’d likely gotten close enough to get her eyebrows singed. “I could’ve misunderstood Namiko, too. The radio connection wasn’t great. I don’t know.” I ran both hands through my hair and blinked hard to keep the sleep away. “Where the hell is Dan? These three thousand miles won’t traverse themselves.”

He didn’t show for another twenty minutes, time I used to consider who was grounded on the home team and who’d go away. I already had a rough idea of the squad compositions I wanted. The problem was that the arrangement in my head wouldn’t be popular with everyone. I pinched the bridge of my nose as I did my best to anticipate reactions. I would’ve included everyone if it were feasible, but Fort Victory needed a few key personnel.

I was still hunched over, eyes scrunched shut as I rubbed my nose, when Dan walked in. “Bad time, chief?” he asked. “I’ve got good news if that helps.”

I opened my eyes and glanced at him. “It’s never a bad time, Dan. I could use a morale booster. What have you got?”

At that point, I finally realized Dan wasn’t alone. A squirrelly, ruddy man fidgeted intensely on his left. Sprigs of copper-colored hair catapulted from beneath a worn-out woolen beanie. The man’s iridescent green eyes bugged in their sockets. He shifted his weight constantly from one foot to the other.

Dan gestured to the guy. “I’d like to introduce you to our new ace pilot.”

A wide, misshapen grin spread rapidly across the man’s face. He stuck his hand out to me but still moved back and forth. Even our handshake felt restless. “Call me Ginger,” he declared enthusiastically. “Better’n any other name I got.”

I raised an eyebrow at Dan. “Where’d you find this one?”

He shrugged. “I pulled him from the group in the tunnel after you took down the one with the bull’s horns back in New York City. I’m not sure what he has left in terms of common sense, but he swears up and down that he can fly whatever we need him to.”

Ginger nodded resolutely. “Anything. If it’s got wings, you put me in that cockpit, and I’ll get it off the ground.” He offered his hand for another shake. “Want to see my license? I’ve got it right here.” His bulbous eyes fastened on my face.

This man is very odd, perhaps untrustworthy, Marcus commented in my ear. What is this license he speaks of?

Despite Marcus’s skepticism, Ginger pulled out a faded leather wallet and produced a blue-green card from within the pocket. The ID was emblazoned with a crest I didn’t recognize, and it listed his name as Henry E. Dobbson, certified for commercial and private flight. I looked at the man. He stood and watched me while he smiled broadly and continued that irritating rocking. “Hasn’t even expired yet,” he said proudly.

Dan cleared his throat. “I’m willing to vouch for our friend here, Vic,” he said and clapped the hyperactive man on the shoulder. Ginger, caught off guard, almost buckled to the floor. The soldier turned to him. “Why don’t you tell Vic what you found?”

“What I found?” An expression of pure bemusement skated across Ginger’s face and lingered for a moment before it cleared once again into that wide grin. “Oh! Oh, yes. Yes. I found a plane.”

My jaw fell open. “What?” I had assumed we’d have to steal one or that Dan had a special contact we could reach now that we had a working radio. “How do you simply find a damn plane?”

Ginger raised his brows and opened his green eyes wide. “I like to walk, y’see? In my free time, which I have a lot of these days, I walk. And one day, I walked around behind that place.” He pointed toward the dungeon. “Nobody goes there on account of it being so close to where the bodies were.”

I winced. We’d done our best to shelter the general populace from that particularly ugly truth, but there was no way to hide the procession of corpses that had to be removed. “Go on,” I prompted, eager to change the subject. “That’s where the plane is?”

“I tell you, I was as shocked as you are now.” Ginger threw up his freckled hands. “Another building. Who woulda thunk?” He leaned in. “But it’s pretty small for a hangar. You can’t see it from the front side, so I don’t want you feeling bad.”

“Thanks. Did you see the plane?” My impatience bubbled beneath the surface. I wanted to grab the pilot by the collar and shake him until all the relevant words fell out but I held back. He didn’t seem like he was all there, at least not all the time.

“Sure, I did. Big old honkin’ padlocks on the doors, but there’s a window right in front. Now, I gotta warn you…” His face became somber. “She’s small, this bird. Not a lot of room for warm bodies, if you know what I’m saying.” He flicked his gaze between Dan and me as if he counted in his head. “I bet we could squeeze in a bunch of passengers if you’re willing to get cozy.”

“We’ll manage,” I said. I wouldn’t have cared if he made me sit in the plane’s cargo hold, as long as it got me to Washington. “Jules and Veronica are getting provisions ready as we speak.”

“That leaves only one thing,” Dan declared. “Who gets the four mission slots?” He instantly rephrased. “Three, that is, alongside our illustrious leader.”

I chewed my lip as I looked at him. “Don’t hate me, Dan. But can I ask you to stay?” Before he had a chance to protest, I rushed on. “The fort needs someone to head up its defenses, and there’s no one I trust more in that department than you. It’s a critical role. I need you to make sure Fort Victory’s still here when we get back.”

At first, his normally jovial face remained completely flat and expressionless. I was about to launch into another attempt to convince him when his usual big smile made an appearance. “I’d be glad to, Vic,” he said. “Don’t you worry a thing about it. You know you can count on me.”

I heaved a huge sigh of relief. “Thank you so much, man. I think Jules and Veronica need to be here to keep the supply system going, and…” My heart sank. “I’ll put Maya in charge.”

“It’ll be fine,” Dan said reassuringly. “Maya’s great. Everyone loves her. You couldn’t pick a better stand-in.”

“I know.” I glanced toward the residential wing where I knew she had hurried off to her room after our all-nighter meeting ended. “I only hope she sees it that way too.”

Chapter Ten

I dragged my feet a little bit on my way to Maya’s room, reluctant to be the bearer of devastating news. To the best of my knowledge, she had never really been mad at me, and I didn’t want to break that streak of good fortune. During our debate the previous night, she had sided with me in no uncertain terms about going to Washington immediately. She had also expected to be part of that deployment.

To be told otherwise might break her heart.

While I hated to be the one to do that to her, it couldn’t be anyone else. In the beginning, when she was still uncertain and learning, I’d been the one to boost her confidence and tell her she was valuable and cool. Now, I had to tell her she was needed more at home than she was in the field, that she had to be Maya for a while, not Were-Maya. Strangely, I felt unprepared for a conversation like that.

I paused in the hallway to psyche myself up. “You can do this, Vic,” I murmured. “She’ll understand. Be honest. Tell her how important this is and how much you believe in her. God, I hope this works.”

“Hey, Vic.” The smooth, deep voice made me jump as I turned, my body poised for flight even though I knew automatically who it was. Deacon looked at me a little puzzled and a smile tilted his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you. How are you holding up?”

I laughed it off. “Oh, you know me. Always lost in thought. I’m actually doing pretty damn well, all things considered. I feel good about this whole thing.” I gestured to the fort around me. “We’ve built this place up, and we’ve kicked major ass. I am nervous about where Smitty and Amber are, but there’s nothing we can do about that until we get there.” I gazed at him with a smile. “Yeah. Things are good. We’re good.”

Deacon chuckled. “You’re something else, girl. For real.” He stepped closer and rested a hand on my arm. Somehow, even the scent of the plain military soap was sexy emanating from his body. Our eyes locked. “I like spending time with you when we’re not getting shot at.”

“Real smooth, Barry White,” I said. “Me too. It almost makes me feel bad about being so suspicious of you when we first met.”

He laughed. “To be fair, you had every reason to be. And you were right.” He squeezed my arm gently. “I was on your case that whole damn time.”

I grinned. “You sly dog. Lucky for me, you were no match for my show-stopping looks and sparkling personality.”

Deacon shifted even closer. “I’d say it was more your strength in the face of adversity, your badass nature, and your sharp mind and sharper wit.” He smirked. “And those amazing eyes.”

I leaned away from him and folded my arms. “You didn’t even mention my ass.”

Another laugh rumbled from his chest. “Do I really need to?”

His full lips curled in a charming smile and his eyes twinkled with endless possibilities. It was my turn to step in closer and onto the tips of my toes. This moment had been a long time coming, maybe even since that night at Jules’s party.

We both felt it.

Deacon’s hands rested lightly on my waist. His face drew closer. I started to close my eyes, not wanting to see but simply to feel.

Someone coughed behind us.

The romantic moment shattered into a million pieces. “Damn it,” I said out loud. I turned to see Luis standing there with a sheepish grin on his face.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’d say I can come back later, but we gotta get a move on if we want to get out of here. I need to borrow your man for some prep. Promise you’ll get him back in one piece.”

“He’s not the one I’m worried about,” I replied.

Luis clapped a hand over his heart as if he’d been shot and pretended to fold back onto the tile. “Damn, Vic. Words hurt, you know?”

Deacon slipped by me. “I’ll take a rain check,” he said softly. Then, to Luis, he said, “All right, man. You and me against the world.”

“With you on my team?” Luis asked. “My money’s on the world.”

I shook my head and resumed my trek toward Maya’s room. The warmth of Deacon’s touch still radiated through my body and melted away some of my stress. I stopped with my hand on her door and inhaled deeply. I could hear her moving around on the other side. A zipper closed.

“Maya?” I knocked lightly. “It’s Vic. Can I come in?”

“It’s open,” she called back.

I turned the handle and walked inside. The scene before me was as I feared. Maya packed a bag frantically in preparation for an unexpected but now highly anticipated trip to the community she had left behind.

“Hey,” I said and glanced at her stuff. “Listen, I know you’re getting ready to leave, but…I’m here to ask you to take over the fort while I’m gone.”

Maya stopped dead and dropped her bundle of toiletries onto the mattress. “What?” She rotated slowly to face me. “You’re joking, right?”

I shook my head apologetically. “I want to know the place is in good hands. Yours are the best we’ve got.”

She pressed her lips together. “Those are my people in Washington, Vic. I need to go. I need to help them.” A note of desperation colored her voice and flared in her eyes. “I can’t sit here and do nothing.” She sat down on the edge of the bed next to her toiletry kit, stunned.

I crossed the small room to sit beside her. “Maya, you won’t be doing nothing. I understand that Washington was your home before we met, but since then, you’ve made a home for more than a hundred refugees here. These are your people now. They’re the ones who need you the most.” I put my hand on her back. “Smitty and Amber can take care of themselves. You know that better than anyone. And once we find them, they’ll take care of their community like I’m sure they’ve done all along.”

“I know,” Maya said quietly. “But I wanted…” She trailed off glumly. I slipped my arm around her shoulder.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to come with me,” I told her. “You’re a beast out there, and I mean that on every conceivable level. You can stomp a vamp into the ground and turn and fix up the poor sucker he was trying to kill. And on top of that, you’re a born leader.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought. “I never considered myself a leader.”

“Well, you are,” I said. “And that’s why I need you stationed here. Who else can handle the fort like you can? Who will pull double duty as the doctor and as the first line of defense if something happens? I can’t do this mission while I look over my shoulder to make sure everything’s kosher at home. You’re the only one I trust to do that for me.”

“Aw, shucks,” she said and grinned. “I bet you say that to all your underlings.”

“I did say it to Dan,” I admitted. “In my defense, I was only talking about security. You’re the one who’s in charge, and he knows it. Also, you’re not my underling. I’m lucky to be your equal and your friend.”

“Whoa, there.” Maya gave me a quick hug. “I think we all know who’s the real boss here.” She put on a brave face. “Okay. I’ll steer the ship. Say hi to Smitty and Amber for me, will you?”

“Dude, of course. We’ll make sure we get their radio in working order so we can talk to them whenever we want.”

“That would be so great. Thanks, Vic.” Maya’s expression hardened with determination. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

With renewed purpose, she unpacked her bag and put things in their proper place.

I stood. “I know you won’t. I wouldn’t be here without you. You’re a beast.”

“Ha ha.” She gave me a look. “Get going, boss. The home front will be fine.”

I grinned. “Atta girl.”

Chapter Eleven

The sun still straggled up the eastern face of the morning sky as our away team marched toward the makeshift hangar at the back of the sprawling property. Deacon, Brax and I headed the small battalion. Luis trailed behind us, and a choice selection of Dan’s men and the best newly trained fighters brought up the rear.

“Vic is the ultimate authority on this mission,” Dan had said to his men and to the trainees. “She is the alpha and the omega, you understand? She says jump, you ask how high.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” was the response. It had been a concern of mine that the refugees—a lot of whom were in similar situations to Luis—would rebel against the kind of structured training we put them through, but they seemed to thrive on it instead. I assumed the strength of our common enemy was enough to calm the intrinsic fires of youth.

Up close, the hangar was ramshackle and so was the plane it housed within its single bay. I appraised the craft for a few moments and did my absolute best to hide the creeping doubt in the pit of my stomach. Luis, on the other hand, didn’t even make the effort.

“We’re flying in that piece of shit?” he burst out. Some of the soldiers snorted. Luis was unfazed. “It doesn’t look like you could even drive that thing.”

Ginger appeared behind him like a wild-eyed ghost. “Oh, you can. I mean, you can’t. But I can.” He trotted ahead of the group toward the plane. The doors were still heavily padlocked.

“Who the hell hired this guy?” Brax grumbled.

I glanced at him. While I itched to ask where he’d run off to, I knew better than to expect an answer. The demon had been more or less MIA since I had seen him with Jules in the classroom, and I wasn’t even sure if he’d show up again at the right time.

But he had and now, he pulled his great hammer off his back. “Whatever,” he said brusquely and strode behind the pilot. “I’ll take care of this shit. Stand back. Way back.”

Ginger was too confused to act fast, and he hesitated too long. In the next second, he had to fend off a shower of sparks. Brax’s hammer turned the first lock into a twisted, glowing mass. He reared back to strike again, and Ginger skedaddled to a safe distance with wide eyes.

We were certainly some kind of motley crew.

Brax kicked both broken locks off, extinguished his hammer, and put it away in one smooth motion. “There,” he said and brushed his hands off. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

Truly, he is a paragon of virtue. Marcus’s voice dripped with sarcasm. I wondered if he’d be that sassy for the rest of the mission. Sassy Marcus was always a lot of fun.

“Thank you, Brax,” I said and maneuvered around him to reach the plane. Without a grimy pane of glass between us, the aircraft seemed even more impossibly rickety and in bad condition. Paint peeled off its hull. I thought I saw a crack in the windshield. “Hey, Ginger. Are you sure this thing is, uh, air-safe?”

“Nope,” Ginger responded cheerfully. “But I can fly it.” He tugged at the door, which came loose with a puff of dust. Cobwebs hung from the handle.

I looked at Deacon. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea after all. I mean, I want to get to Washington like crazy, but I’d like to get there alive.”

“That’s funny,” the FBI agent said. “I thought the same thing.” Ahead of us, Ginger climbed into the plane and disappeared inside the cockpit.

My mind raced to come up with a solution. “Dan’s got access to satellite maps, doesn’t he? Maybe we could find an airport. There must be one reasonably close to here, right?” It was a shot in the dark, but it was the best shot we had. No way would we get to Washington without a plane.

Brax emitted a tortured groan. “You humans are assholes,” he said. “I’ll go tell what’s-his-nuts we need the map.” With that, he turned and stomped toward the fort.

“Did he volunteer to do something?” Deacon asked, genuinely curious.

I nodded. “Yeah. It was weird.” I kept my eyes trained on the demon’s receding figure as he approached the front of the fort. It was so unlike him to go out of his way to do anything. I had a sneaking suspicion what he was up to.

Sure enough, a blonde shape I could’ve identified in whiteout conditions met him on the lawn. They interacted for only a second, but it was long enough for me to see her hand him something. He slipped it into his long black coat. Jules turned and walked inside with him.

“What the fuck?” I whispered.

Deacon glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You missed that whole thing?” I asked.

“What thing?”

I sighed heavily. “Never mind.” It was probably me being paranoid and making things up where they didn’t exist. Jules had no reason to befriend a demon, let alone anything more than that. Besides, I knew Brax totally wasn’t her type.

Still, what did she give him? I really wanted to know. The thought gnawed at my brain until he got back with the satellite mapping device in hand. I had to force myself not to look directly at his coat pocket.

“Here.” He thrust the device into my hand. “You’re welcome.”

Deacon came to look over my shoulder and we studied the screen together. I zoomed it out so we could see miles in every direction. “What’s that?” He pointed to a large open area with a few strips of tarmac running through it. I focused in on it.

“It looks like a private airstrip,” I said. “It’ll do.” I waved to our assembled group. “Get to the trucks, you guys. We’ll take a little road trip.”

I turned to Brax. “Could you take this b—”

“He said to keep it,” Brax interrupted in a tone that suggested I might be the dumbest jackass on the planet. “I guess he has another one.” He walked away before he finished his last sentence and left me with Deacon behind our mobilizing troops.

“Is it just me, or is he stiffer than usual?” Deacon remarked.

“It’s not you,” I muttered. “Let’s go.” I was so focused on Brax that I almost didn’t notice Ginger still in the hangar. He clambered around under the control panels in the cockpit.

“Henry!” I yelled.

His head popped up. “Don’t call me that.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I motioned toward the rest of the squad. “We’re leaving. Come on.”

“I thought we were leaving in this.” He looked at me as though all his dreams had been crushed. “I told you I can fly it.”

“And I believe you.” I stopped and looked from him to my retreating battalion. “But you’ve messed around in there for a while now, and it looks like it’ll fall apart before we reach cruising altitude. We’ll go to a real airstrip instead.”

He brightened immediately. “Why didn’t you say so?” Like a creepy leprechaun, he hopped out of the plane and scurried past us, whistling atonally as he went. “I’ll have my pick of whatever I want. Rich people’s planes, I hope. Oh, I hope!”

“Every time I think this situation can’t get weirder.” Deacon touched my back. The heat of his hand seemed to penetrate all my layers of clothing. “Let’s catch up before that crazy loon gets behind the wheel.”

“What do you think the odds of him actually being able to fly a plane are?” I wondered out loud. We broke into a jog after everyone else.

“How honest do you want me to be?” he asked.

I smirked. “Totally.”

He cast a worried glance at the back of Ginger’s head. “Ten to one,” he said. “Against us.”

Chapter Twelve

Deacon and I split up to drive the trucks out of the fort complex. I took Luis in my passenger seat, and as we moved down the long path to the road, I glanced in the rearview mirror. Ginger had declined a seat in Deacon’s vehicle. I could see him lean out from the truck bed and grin in the open air. The sight didn’t exactly fill me with confidence.

The ride to the airstrip proved to be uneventful, which was a small consolation. The gate into the main area was already busted open when we got there. It hung on its hinges and the chain dangled freely. “Keep your eyes open,” I told Luis.

“No worries,” he answered. “I stopped closing them a long time ago.”

The airstrip was mostly comprised of a cluster of low buildings overshadowed by a lone control tower. All the windows were dark and empty. The field itself looked barren, and a couple of small planes stood in the open. I heard an enthusiastic whoop from behind us, and a redheaded streak raced past the window. I rubbed my face. “So much for a stealthy approach.”

Ginger tore across the grass with surprising vigor. At the edge of the first runway, he stopped dead and scanned the place like a human antenna. I turned our truck off and got out. The others did the same. We stood a few dozen yards behind the pilot and watched him take stock.

“What the hell is he doing?” Deacon asked. “I thought he was gonna break his neck when he jumped off the truck. That guy’s a real piece of work.”

“He’s all we’ve got,” I said. “I think he’s choosing our ride.”

Deacon’s eyes suddenly snapped to stare far down the airfield toward the edge of the property. “He better get a move on. Look.” He pointed, and I caught sight of a familiar group of ragged monsters racing directly toward us.

“Uh oh. Hey, Ginge! Pick up the pace, would you? We’ve got company.” I motioned for the whole squad to prepare. The gap between this band of Forgotten and us was closing faster than I would have liked. I could see them clearly now—a mismatched crew of mostly vamps, centaurs, and satyrs. As rowdy as ever, the satyrs shouted, discharged guns in the air, and made obscene gestures with their free hands.

Luis groaned. “I have had it with these fucking jokers,” he declared and leveled his rifle. The first volley of fire rang through the air.

“Seriously, Ginger!” I yelled over the noise. “Any time you’re ready.”

He glanced over his shoulder as if he’d only now noticed the enemy, and his eyes went wide. “Okay. Okay.” He spun and sprinted for a mid-sized craft. His voice trailed behind him. “Cover me while I steal this thing.”

It wasn’t like we had much of a choice. I plunged into the fray and sliced through a vamp and two satyrs in quick succession. The combination of the centaurs’ pounding hooves and the dust from the dead vamps churned the air into a haze. Some of the newly trained soldiers coughed.

“Try not to breathe that,” I advised them and dropped another enemy at my feet. “It’s basically corpse dust. I have no idea what it’ll do to your lungs.” They gave me horrified glances, and one of them gagged. “Hey, I’m trying to help you out.”

As far as I know, expired vampires are not a significant source of toxicity. I am not, however, an expert on the intricacies of Forgotten biology.

“We’ll notify the FDA,” I said. “Maybe they’ll label these assholes a health risk.” I shot a look over my shoulder to monitor Ginger’s progress. The door to the plane was open, and I thought I saw one of his feet hanging out. To Deacon, I shouted, “Start moving toward the plane, and get ready to run for it the second he gives the signal.”

He nodded, and we shepherded the fight carefully toward our escape aircraft but made sure to maintain a barrier between the pilot and us. The Forgotten didn’t seem to care too much about whether we tried to get away. They merely wanted to kill us.

Some of them looked like they wanted to eat us.

The beasts clearly weren’t immune to the effects of having to scavenge for food. The group was scrawny and pale, and some of the satyrs were missing patches of hair on their hoofed legs. A centaur lay near me, bleeding from the flank, and his ribcage was little more than hide stretched over bones.

They had battle scars too—whether from infighting or run-ins with other survivors, I couldn’t be sure. Lucky for us, they were easily dispatched in their weakened state. I fell back toward Ginger as Luis and the others picked off the last of the stragglers.

“Let’s go, you guys!” I made sure the pilot could hear me, too. “Grab whatever you left in the trucks and get your asses over here.” The last sentence was punctuated by a grumbling roar as the plane’s engine came to life. “That’s our cue. Time to hit the road. Or hit the sky, I guess.”

“As long as we don’t hit the ground,” Deacon said beside me where he watched my flank.

“Amen to that,” I said.

My men ran across the tarmac with their stuff slung over their shoulders. From the cockpit, Ginger yelled triumphantly. “We’re in business, ladies and gents.”

I stood back so everyone else could pile in first, which was how I saw the second group of Forgotten come around the corner of the control tower. The centaurs at the front broke into a frenzied gallop and leveled their gleaming weapons in our direction.

“Go!” I pushed the last few passengers up the stairs and through the doorway before I followed them inside. The door clanged shut behind me. I called into the cockpit, “Go now! We’re out of time.”

“Roger that!” Ginger hollered back. “Please fasten your seatbelts. This is a nonsmoking flight.” He shrugged. “I mean that hopefully, nothing starts smoking.”

The plane rolled forward along the runway and gradually picked up speed. I made my way to the rearmost window and gazed at the pack of monsters that hounded us. The satyrs had more or less fallen away, but the vamps and centaurs had gained. Their eyes stared at us with a feral, hungry glint.

Those guys definitely wanted to eat us.

“Step on it, Ginger!” I yelled.

“That’s not really how this works,” he yelled back, but the rumble of the engine intensified. The scenery through the window began to blur. As I felt us lift off the ground, the lead vamp lunged forward and became airborne himself.

I lost sight of him. “Oh, shit.”

A loud, scraping thump drowned out the curse.

“We’re off balance,” Ginger said. “What’s going on out there?”

I moved to check another window and came face to face with the damn vamp who now clung to the wing. The airflow swept his hair and skin taut against his skull, and his tattered clothes threatened to abandon him entirely.

Brax loomed over my shoulder. “I got this one,” he said flatly. Before I could react, he strode to the exit, pushed it open, and disappeared into the howling wind.

Common sense continues to be one of Abraxzael’s weaker attributes, Marcus remarked.

“Whatever he’s doing, I hope he does it quick,” Deacon said while he struggled to secure the door. “If we’re too high when he opens that door again, the whole cabin will depressurize.”

“Don’t say that shit out loud,” Luis hissed. He gripped the arms of his seat with both hands, his knuckles white. “It’s bad luck.”

“Facts don’t have anything to do with luck,” the agent retorted, but he kept quiet after that.

Brax entered the window’s field of vision, half bent against the wind as he made his way toward the vamp. His coat whipped ferociously around his solid frame like a dark aura. They painted a surreal picture as they faced each other on the wing, poised to do battle.

“Yo, he looks pretty dope,” said one of the soldiers. “I hope he smokes this dude.”

I could go either way, Marcus said.

“Be nice,” I said softly.

Fine. I hope the demon is merely wounded.

“See? Was that so hard?”

Extremely.

I shook my head and turned my attention to the fight.

The vamp lashed out first, but it immediately scrabbled for a handhold so it wouldn’t fly off onto the tarmac. Brax, perpetually unimpressed, loosed his hammer from its holster on his back. He couldn’t light it out there, but it still packed a mean punch. Steadying himself as best he could, he swung.

The vamp flattened on the wing and hissed, its fangs bared. It tried to grab the demon’s leg, but he kicked and landed his boot square in the middle of the vampire’s face. It barely managed to evade his next hammer strike, at which point Brax, clearly frustrated, put the hammer on his back and leaned forward to grab his foe. He lifted the skinny creature by the front of its shirt. Although it struggled desperately and clawed at his arms, he carried it to the edge of the wing and dropped it into oblivion.

Such crude tactics, Marcus said. No finesse. No sophistication.

“He could’ve danced a ballet out there and you’d still say that,” I muttered.

And I would be correct. We are lucky he did not pummel the wing right off the plane.

The exit door opened again and blasted us with freezing air. Brax stepped inside, slammed it shut, and proceeded to stare down everyone who looked at him.

“What do you want?” he demanded. “Problem solved.” The discussion over, he walked down the aisle to a seat by a window, sat, and whipped out his sunglasses.

Chapter Thirteen

I sat in the back row of the plane with Deacon, spread out over two seats with the armrests up. He rested one arm casually over my knee and had been quiet since the incident on the wing. The view outside wasn’t much more than a wet-looking mat of gray, and he sat facing the front. His dark eyes were thoughtful.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked suddenly. “About earlier?”

I glanced at him and thought about that moment in the hall and how close we’d come to acting on long-held mutual desires. “Here?” I asked. “This is kind of a weird place to finish what we started, don’t you think? I mean, we’re surrounded by soldiers.” I paused. “Unless you’re into that.”

“What?” He held his palms up to stop me. “No. It’s actually kind of the opposite.” He paused. “I wondered about where Marcus fits into things like this. Since, you know, he’s always around.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Spit it out, St. Clare. What are you trying to say?”

Deacon sighed. Somewhat sheepishly, he said, “Does he hear everything?”

I glanced at the medallion and snorted. “That’s what you’re worried about? Of course, he doesn’t. We have an agreement.”

He didn’t seem convinced. “Which is what?” he pressed.

“Think of it as a mute button,” I said. “Whatever I don’t want him to hear, he doesn’t hear. He can also close himself off from having to listen to what’s going on over here, and I’m sure he does that at least occasionally.”

“And you trust him about this?” Deacon still looked a little worried. “I don’t mean to disrespect the guy. But I can’t see him, and you always talk to him, so…” He shrugged. “I wanted to know how it works, so I can hopefully not embarrass myself too badly. If I haven’t already.”

Tell him to fear not. My integrity is beyond repute. I have afforded you every privacy in the past, and you may rest assured I will continue to do so. Also, tell him he has indeed already embarrassed himself.

I suppressed a smile and patted Deacon’s hand. “Marcus is totally a stand-up guy. Some would say he’s got a boner for honor.”

Who says that? Identify the slanderer and allow me to redeem my—Marcus stopped.

I grinned. “You were gonna say ‘honor,’ weren’t you?”

He answered with silence.

“Marcus is fine,” I said to my companion. “Besides, if I ever really wanted to make sure he was out of the loop, I could simply take the medallion off.”

Visible relief passed over Deacon’s features. “Oh, you can do that? I’m not gonna lie, that makes me feel a lot better.”

I smirked. “How come? We’ve hardly done anything that would require that level of discretion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were angling for—”

The plane bumped in the air and my words cut off as I lurched forward. Deacon caught my legs in time to avoid being kneed in the face. We braced against the seats in front of us and looked at each other.

The cabin’s intercom clicked on. “Sorry about that, folks,” Ginger announced. “We’re experiencing some routine turbulence. Well, it’s not that routine, actually. We’re heading for a fairly big storm, and I don’t think it’ll move out of the way anytime soon. Things are about to get fun.”

He clicked off. The aircraft shuddered again. It took an abrupt dip, and I felt my stomach lift into freefall for a second.

“Hey, whoa, I’m not into this,” Luis said. His face had gone as pale as a sheet. The soldier beside him nudged him in the ribs.

“First time flying?” he asked.

“And probably the last if it’s always like this.” Luis closed his eyes as the plane bucked once more.

“Don’t sweat it,” the soldier said. “Let me show you how to assume the crash position.”

“Dios mio,” Luis muttered. He clutched his grandmother’s rosary. I felt a little sorry for him.

Five minutes later, the plane rattled like it was about to burst into pieces. The tossing sensation was so intense, we might as well have been on the ocean. Our loose bags tumbled through the cabin. I caught mine on its way down the aisle and buckled it into an empty seat.

The door to the cockpit opened. “I have some bad news.” Ginger was obviously stressed and had worked his red hair into a crazy poof with nervous fingers. “I’m afraid we’ll have to land. The storm’s not going away, and we can’t keep going through this.” His laugh sounded strained. “Even I’m not nuts enough for that. Not with you all in the plane, anyway.”

Luis spoke through clenched teeth and still clutched the rosary. “Look, man, I don’t care what you have to do as long as you get the hell back to the freaking controls. I know there’s no copilot in there.”

“The plane has an automatic pilot,” Ginger said. He tapped a finger to his lips. “Although I don’t think I turned it on.”

“Please, just fly the goddamn plane!” Luis said.

Ginger jumped. “Right. Right! Sorry.” He disappeared into the cockpit and emerged a second later. “I probably should have simply used the intercom.”

“Fly the fucking plane!” Luis yelled.

Ginger nodded and squirreled himself away into the front of the aircraft.

“Shit, I should have asked him where we are,” I said. It was hard to have a sense of time up there, but I thought we’d flown for a few hours at least. “We’d better be ready for anything.”

“Aren’t we always?” Deacon asked.

The landing was fast and rough. We definitely weren’t at an airport. A couple of times during the hurried descent, I had to stop my doubts as to whether Ginger could pull this off. We shoved through the bottom layer of clouds, and the world came into view much closer than I had expected. Fortunately, everything below us appeared to be unrelentingly flat, checkered farmland.

Deacon stared out the window. “Based on that panorama, I’d say we’re somewhere in the Midwest.”

He turned out to be right. The plane cut through an abandoned cornfield, where we waited for the storm to pass. About an hour in, we were accosted by a herd of warty toad-people who’d lost their ability to speak in anything other than croaks, grunts, and gurgles. Although I stayed vigilant, there was no sign of a toad god, and for that, I was eternally grateful. Even Marcus had been mystified by them. He wasn’t able to identify a deity with matching or similar characteristics.

Perhaps, he had mused, the gods are changing. Or perhaps they are more numerous and varied than I have known.

None of it boded well for our troop of explorers, and we got the hell out of Dodge the instant the thunder and lightning cleared up. Ginger managed to coax us back into the air despite the lack of a proper runway or any sort of guiding lights. Somewhat apprehensively, I settled in to try to relax for the rest of the flight, hoping the drama was behind us.

It wasn’t.

Some two hours later, a great impact rocked the side of the plane and jerked me violently out of a fitful nap. I gasped and bolted upright. “What the fuck was that?”

“More bad news,” Ginger said over the intercom. There was little levity left in his voice. He cleared his throat. “The display up here tells me one of the engines blew. And that means we are in for the crash landing of a lifetime.”

The soldier next to Luis laughed nervously. “Hey, remember how I was going to show you how to do the crash position?”

“I thought you were joking,” Luis exclaimed.

“Well, I was at the time,” he said. “Now, I’m not.”

The plane rolled forward and tipped sharply downward. The sensation was a little like a roller coaster, only infinitely more terrifying because I had a fairly good idea of how high up we were. Once more, my stomach floated up, and this time, it stayed there for what seemed like forever. The uneven thrum of the engine sounded worse and worse in my ears. Beneath it all, I heard Luis reciting something in Spanish.

Probably a prayer.

I put my head down between my arms and stared at the floor in front of my seat. Aside from the chugging engine and Luis’s panicked appeal, the cabin was as silent as it could get. We hardly breathed. Outside, the land drew closer and closer.

The plane leveled out. My stomach settled back into place. I didn’t dare release my grip until it was down, but it took only a few more seconds for the wheels to hit solid ground.

Luis yelped. The brake flaps on the wings popped open. We still hurtled forward at breakneck speed, but we gradually slowed. The last sound to die was the broken engine. After that, nothing moved—including us.

“Is it over?” Luis asked. “Am I fucking dead, or what?”

The soldier beside him was the first to laugh, and it spread from person to person like a joyful epidemic. Even Brax chuckled. Ginger emerged from the cockpit to a miniature celebration and a round of applause.

“Sorry I yelled at you before, hermano,” Luis apologized. “You really pulled it through for us.”

The pilot grinned, and his freckled cheeks flushed. “To be fair, I really should have used the intercom.”

We all exited the plane. The air on the other side of the door was fresh, rain-scented, and twenty degrees warmer than it had been when we left. Droplets of condensation clung to my skin and hair as I stood and examined the satellite device. We’d touched down not far from the edge of a thick, imposing forest, which I hoped might be the one we were looking for.

A ping from the GPS confirmed it. We stood outside Olympic National Forest, only a few miles from our target destination.

“That was some good flying,” I said to Ginger. “And some good navigating, to boot.”

“Thank you.” He beamed for a moment until the grin fell from his face. “Please don’t make me go out there. I told you I can fly, and I proved it. But I can’t do anything else. And I need to fix this baby, so we’ll be able to leave when the time comes.” He shifted anxiously from foot to foot.

“No problem,” I said quickly. “We’ll leave you with a guard so you can do your job. And a gun, in case you need to defend yourself.” I retrieved a handgun from one of the bags and gave it to him. He held it awkwardly as if it might explode.

“A gun,” he said warily. “Okay. Yes. Thank you. I won’t use it.”

“With any luck, you won’t have to make that choice,” I said. I moved to gather up the rest of my squadron. By some miracle of faith and Ginger’s piloting, everyone had walked away from that landing unscathed, if a little spooked. They all seemed grateful to do something as mundane as form up, and the pair I tasked with watching Ginger’s back stationed themselves outside the downed craft without complaint.

The rest of us marched out and advanced into the cover of towering trees.

Chapter Fourteen

Beyond the first few hundred feet, the woods weren’t as thick as they looked from the outside. The evidence of raging forest fires soon appeared, stark and unmistakably harrowing. Ashy husks of tree trunks, some still adorned with skeletal branches, flanked each side of the narrow path we followed. The sound of raindrops dripping from dead trees surrounded our party.

“This place is as spooky as shit,” a soldier remarked and turned almost three hundred and sixty degrees to avoid leaving himself with any blind spots. “You said there are gods in here?”

“There’s one,” I said. “And our job is to find him.”

We walked in single file, but the guys clumped together and held their weapons tightly, their heads virtually on swivels. Brax, Deacon, and I kept our cool. Every now and then, I glanced at the satellite map to make sure we were still on track. The remains of campsites lay among the trees with scattered belongings mostly ruined by prolonged exposure to the elements. A few of the tents had long tears raked into the sides.

“I’d hate to find out what did that,” Deacon murmured.

Brax grunted. “I have a feeling we will, whether we like it or not.” He had moved up to lead with us at the front. “I don’t see any bodies, though, so people either got out themselves or were taken away.”

“I hope it’s the former,” I said.

He didn’t look at me when he said, “Yeah. Me too.”

The demon is ill, Marcus interjected. Something in his brain has misfired and created a kernel of compassion.

“Tell your invisible buddy to shut his trap,” said Brax. “I can’t hear him, but I know he’s talking, and I know it’s about me. Maybe he ought to worry about himself for a change.”

I have nothing to worry about. My every action is blessed with honor.

I pursed my lips. “I’ll pass it on.”

“Good.” The demon moved slightly ahead of us and his dark-clad shape almost blended into the gloom. I used the dull gleam of the hammer to keep track of him as the shadows deepened. A thick, impenetrable blanket of quiet dropped over us. With a jolt, I realized I could no longer see the sun.

“Hold up,” I called softly. Brax stopped and half-turned toward me. “Something’s screwy here. Why’s it so dark?” I retrieved the GPS unit and focused on the screen, but it took an awfully long time to locate a signal.

“Where are we?” Luis looked at the canopy of branches and hushed pine. “Don’t tell me we’re lost, Vic. This is like nature’s version of a graveyard.”

“We can’t be lost,” I said. “I’ve followed the route on the map exactly. If we’re wrong, then everything’s wrong.”

“That’s not helpful,” he replied. He was still recovering from the plane adventure earlier, and his normally level head was a little off-kilter. “This freaks me out, man. If we go any farther in, we won’t come out.”

“That’s not true.” I went to him and put my hands on his shoulders. “Look at me, Luis. In the eye. I know this trip has been tough for you so far, but I need you to pull yourself together. I brought you along because you’re strong and smart and you know what you’re doing. Take a deep breath. Shut your brain off for a minute if you have to. I’m depending on you to be here in the moment.”

The kid stared at me and for a second, I didn’t think my words had taken hold. Then he sucked in a deep breath, held it, and blew it out. Some of the scared emptiness left his big brown eyes. He had never looked younger.

“Okay,” he said. He shook his head. “Okay. I got you. I’m good.”

“You sure?” I gave his shoulders a gentle shake. “Because I’m about to give you marching orders, and I have to know you can carry them out.”

“No…yeah.” Now, Luis nodded and tried his best to grin. It wasn’t as solid as usual, but better than before. “I just—I think the plane thing kinda messed with me, is all. I’m fine. What do you want me to do?”

I squeezed his shoulder. “Glad to have you back. Deacon, Brax, and I will do a little recon. I want you to stay here with the troops until we get back. Don’t let anyone move. Don’t let anyone leave. If something happens, give us a shout.” I pointed to the radio on his chest. “We’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck,” he said and saluted.

“You guys hear that?” I asked the others. “Luis is in charge right now. Don’t make his life difficult.” They were too unsettled to joke about it. I grabbed Deacon and headed to meet Brax. The three of us peered deeper into the dark, impossibly dense forest. “Could it be a trick?” I asked them both.

Illusions are certainly a possibility, Marcus said. Many gods possess the ability to alter the surface of perception effectively. My advice is to proceed with caution in case all is not as it seems.

“Could be.” The demon shrugged his broad shoulders. “Let’s go at it swinging. Whoever’s on the other side will learn to regret it quick.” To emphasize his point, he brandished his hammer. “I’ll be the battering ram if you want.”

I hesitated. “Brax, I appreciate your no-nonsense approach, but I think we should handle this a little more delicately than that. You’d chuck a bomb like a softball if you thought that would disarm it.”

He frowned. “And if I was right, nobody would complain.”

“It’s the possibility of you being wrong that I’m worried about,” I said.

He mumbled to himself and turned away. We moved forward as a group, and the shadows coalesced in front of us to fill the narrow spaces between the trees. This core of the forest stood like a fence in our way and completely blocked our progress.

“To the side,” Deacon said and motioned to the left with his hand.

We attempted to work our way around, assuming the strange forest was finite, but it extended in all directions as far as my eyes could see. The other side granted us the same view.

“I’m telling you we should just go,” Brax urged. “There’s no point in standing around doing recon if there’s nothing to see. It’s obviously some fucked-up, mythical god shit, right? What else do we need to know?”

“Wait.” I held up a hand to stop him. The faintest trace of a voice had caught my ear. “I hear something.”

“If you say it’s me bitching—” Brax began.

“No.” I waved at him to stop talking. “It’s people, I think.” Following the voice, I moved down the path, which arced around to the right and crossed a more substantial, street-like road. From there, the voices were multiple and more distinct. I peeked from the cover of the trees. “There!”

The road we stood on led into the deepest, thickest section of this new forest, but the entrance was blocked by a patrolling contingent of guards. They didn’t look particularly dangerous—at least, not more so than any standard human. But I knew from Frank and Maya that looks could be deceiving.

Brax eyed me. “Let me guess. You’re not gonna let me kill them?”

“It’s not because I think it’s necessarily a bad idea, okay?” I said. “But we don’t know what this place is, why they’re here, or how many more of them there are. I don’t want to run in there with our dicks out and give away our position until I have some idea of what’s happening here.”

“Fair enough.” The demon smirked. “You don’t have a dick, though.”

I gave him a look. “If I did, it’d be real fucking big, and both of you know it.” I pressed the button on my radio. “Luis, you there?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I just did a head count. We’re all good.”

“Here’s what’ll happen.” I paused and looked at Brax and Deacon for signs of last-minute objections. Receiving none, I pressed on. “We found a way into this creepy forest thing. We’ll get in there, see what’s up, and I’ll get in touch and let you know what the next step is. Cool?”

“You’re going in?” Luis sounded skeptical. “Are you sure that’s, like, the best idea? This place feels…off.”

“Do you want to trade places?” I asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said quickly. “You go ahead. I’ll wait for your signal all damn day.”

“I thought so.” I smiled. “In the meantime, see if you can find us more vehicles. We might need you to move fast.”

“Roger that,” he said. “Find vehicles, I can do. No problem.”

“Thanks, Luis.” I smiled. “Catch you on the flip side.”

By the time I ended my exchange with the teenager, Brax had moved ahead toward the patrol post. He glanced back and beckoned me forward. He held a clump of half-dry groundcover in his hand, which he promptly lit with a swift flick of his hammer. His movement steady, he drew his hand back and launched the flaming ball off to the side of the patrolmen. In a matter of seconds, a small fire sprang up. It was quickly snuffed by ambient moisture, but the smoke it produced was thick and pungent.

The guards caught a whiff of it. They turned toward the source of the fire and moved that way as they followed their noses and muttered to one another.

“Now!” Brax hissed. We broke into the quietest run we could manage and aimed directly for the middle of the black hole between the trees.

Chapter Fifteen

The voices of the guards faded behind us as we passed through to the interior of the strange woods. I’d expected almost total darkness, but beyond the initial border, the trees were pierced with shafts of light. We didn’t have the luxury to stop until our eyes adjusted, so we pressed on through the gloom, packed tightly together and our other senses on high alert. Brax was the first to make a comment, which surprised me until I remembered he was also the one with the best low-light vision.

“Those are some trees,” was all he said. Deacon and I automatically turned to look closer, and I felt goosebumps rise on my arms.

“Those are trees?” I asked out loud. Logically, I knew that was what they had to be, but the twisted, thorny formations rising from the forest floor weren’t like anything I had ever seen. Their roots tangled in huge, snaking masses around the base of the trunks and spread like tentacles. The ground pitched to accommodate the place where the roots broke the soil.

“Watch your step,” Deacon warned. “I have a feeling this is not a place where you want to fall.”

As we passed beneath the gnarled boughs, I actually held my breath. My vision had acclimated, and now I could see the way the trees towered in uneven groups and allowed light to filter in. It wasn’t a pattern I recognized from other woods I knew. The trees clumped together, then spread out, then staggered along the rutted path. I was about to wonder what might cause them to grow so randomly when I spotted evidence of a possible answer. It matched some of what we had already seen in the more normal sections of the national forest.

“Look at that,” I breathed and pointed. Both Deacon and Brax’s steps slowed in response. A few dozen yards before us, nestled snugly in a copse of the thorny monster trees, stood the remains of a two-story house, burnt black and moldering. Only the thickest, strongest beams were left and, really, only fractions of those. The rest of the structure lay in crumbled cinders all around its foundation.

“Somebody lived in here,” Deacon whispered. A mix of awe and knowing sadness colored the words. It didn’t take an ace detective to deduce what probably happened in that blackened glade.

But why? And how?

Brax shook his head. “Not somebody,” he remarked. “A lot of people.”

He gestured in the same direction, and I sucked in a gasp as the dilapidated shapes of civilization became clear to my eye. This house was one of many which stood at the edge of an overgrown, disintegrating curb. Heavy vines thicker than my forearm wound their way through the shattered windows of dead cars that stood where they had been abandoned in the forsaken street. A corner in the distance was marked by a rotting pole.

Deacon stopped and searched the surroundings. “I’ll be damned,” he murmured. “It’s all around us. Where the hell are we?” He turned in a circle.

I fished out the mapping device. The signal was weak inside the dense forest’s perimeter, but it managed to eke out enough to display the visual I needed. According to the screen, we stood at the edge of a whole town. The neat spread of squares, each signifying a home, store, or business, was so incongruous compared to the ravaged scene before me that I had trouble believing it was real. I dropped the GPS unit to my side and stared numbly at the ruins. “We have to find out what the fuck happened here,” I said.

“I know what happened,” Brax replied. As usual, he forged ahead, fearless and impatient. “It’s him.”

“Marcus?” I asked. “What do you think?”

The centurion sighed. Though it pains me to make such an admission, Abraxzael’s identification must be correct. There is no one else who could have this type of effect on so large an area. He paused. Yet it is odd to me—

“It’s weird.” Brax’s voice overlapped Marcus’s. “I don’t get what’s going on here.” For the first time, he stopped briefly in his tracks and gazed far down the ghost of the street. “He was never like this back in the old days.”

Once again, the demon is correct, Marcus allowed. My memories of Oxylem are inoffensive, even pleasant. He brought a spark of merriment to everyone he encountered. I believed him to be well-liked among his peers. His tone suggested that he would have frowned if he could. I suppose it could all have been a carefully constructed façade.

“He had an island,” Brax said in continuation of his first thought. “Before the war. I guess it was sorta like his own little utopia. As far as I know, he was happy to stay there and have beach parties with his shiny happy people, or what the fuck ever. Hell, I bet he’d have taken my sorry ass in if I asked nicely enough.”

“Did you?” I raised an eyebrow.

Brax scoffed. “Of course not. They were a bunch of hedonistic drunks.”

His analysis is crude, as always, said Marcus distastefully. Oxylem and his followers emphasized a free-spirited philosophy, which included wholehearted devotion to peace. I struggle to fathom the circumstances under which his view has been altered to this degree.

“He might be crazy,” I said. “Or, at least, not himself. Noted.” I trailed after Brax through the knotted trees and kept my guard up. “Does this guy have any weaknesses I should know about? Anything that’ll make our lives easier if he decides he wants to trap us in here for all eternity?”

“Hm.” Brax rubbed the top of his head. “Normally, I’d say fire—because of all the trees and shit, you know? But he’s either already burned to a crisp somewhere, or he’s made peace with that particular element, which is troubling. Fire was never his thing.”

It is quite true that neither Oxylem nor his Apprenti dealt in the art of fire mastery—or anything remotely malevolent, for that matter.

“He’s formed alliances,” said Deacon grimly. “That’s a bad sign.”

“Maybe someone forced the issue,” Brax suggested. “I don’t think it’d be hard to convince him to do your bidding if the alternative was being cooked alive.” He reached the closest side of the house’s foundation and stepped across the stones. Then, he straightened and sucked in a lungful of air. “It still smells like smoke. I’m not sure if it’s from this place specifically or merely in the air.”

As if on cue, the wind picked up and rushed past us with a plaintive howl. It cut through the winter layers I still wore from the start of our trip, and when it died down, the howl remained.

“Shit!” Deacon shouted. “The trees are moving!”

“That’s what happens when it’s windy.” The words stuck in my throat as I glanced around and saw exactly what he meant. On all sides, the misshapen silhouettes swayed in the aftermath of the gust. The high, keening wails enveloped us. They were the source of the haunting sound, not the wind.

Oxylem, what have you done?

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed my wrist. I lashed out against it instinctively, only to see that it belonged to Deacon. “Let’s move!” he shouted. “You couldn’t pay me to stay here right now.”

It was hard to argue, what with the freaky, screaming trees. The two of us charged after Brax, but we couldn’t seem to get ahead of the noise. Every single tree in the forest had picked up the cry until my head threatened to explode. I gritted my teeth and focused all my energy on pushing forward. The shapes of tree trunks writhed in place, caught by my peripheral vision.

I suddenly stopped abruptly. I came within an inch of crashing into Brax’s back. “Dude, what the hell?”

He motioned for me to shut up and nodded farther along the faint path. An eerie glow issued from the front yard of another gutted house. I took an involuntary step back.

The glow came from figures that stood in a perfect circle in earnest conversation. The one thing they all had in common was the red hair that raged against the backdrop of dusky shadows.

Chapter Sixteen

Brax glanced over his shoulder at me and held a finger to his lips. He stole forward, and his black coat skirted the ashy ground. I looked at Deacon, and we dropped into stealth mode too. The gap closed slowly and painstakingly. The more I saw of this new group, the less I liked them.

The smell hit me first—a distinctive, vaguely rotten scent that I didn’t attach to the figures themselves until I saw the charred skin. They’d literally been cooked, and when they moved, I thought I saw thin tendrils of smoke curl from the peeling cracks on their bodies. Each hardened face seemed fixed in a permanent glower, even during what appeared to be a normal discussion.

The demon tucked himself behind a fallen log. I eased in beside him with Deacon. We peered over the top of the soft wood at the gathering, now less than fifty feet away. At this distance, it was easy to pick out the leader, a tall, broad brute with a stone-like slab of a face. A wiry, badly singed beard sheathed his jaw and curled over a necklace of bleached white bone. Unlike the others, his ugly mug was contorted into a braying guffaw of laughter aimed toward the ramshackle house.

“Come out, piggies!” he yelled. The tone in his voice grated on my ears, and he ejected each word with such force that flecks of spit sailed from the corners of his mouth. “The gods have arrived!” He spread his muscled arms wide and continued. “You can either emerge and submit yourselves—which, I must say, I recommend—or I’ll simply burn this hovel down around your filthy little heads.” The brute grabbed a large rock and hurled it at the front door, where it tore through the wood. “Don’t worry. It will go quickly, like all the others. Perhaps you will suffer for three minutes, or five. But soon, it will all be over.”

The next thing I heard was uncannily familiar—the heavy racking of a shotgun from inside the run-down house. The shot rang out through the hole the bearded man had made in the door, but I could tell it missed. The brute’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped open in a fit of cruel hysterics. Over his laughter, a baby cried. That, too, came from inside the house.

The leader of the creepy group wiped tears of amusement from his eyes. He turned to his companions. Like him, they were burnt and reeked of flame-scoured flesh. Undisguised malice flared in their eyes. They all grinned and raised their hands. Wild spheres of fire, barely controlled, burst into being in their palms. As one, they threw the fireballs at the broken door.

This time, the screams from the house were different, now infused with fear and panic. The fire-wielders stood ready to attack. I opened my mouth to make the call.

Brax beat me to it. He charged from cover with a mighty bellow and leapt the massive log as if it were nothing more than a twig. The hammer swung from its sheath and crashed into a few of the standing bodies. They scattered before his sheer power. Instead of beating them down or snapping them in half, the demon ran directly for the threshold which was awash with licking flames.

“That crazy jackass,” I said in wonder. “We have to back his ass up.”

“On it.” Deacon maneuvered to the best position behind the log and took pot shots at the attackers. The bullets split their cooked skin wide and exposed a coal-like layer that smoldered underneath. The wounds ejected trails of flame instead of blood, which I had to dodge on my way into the fight.

“What the hell is this shit?” I shouted as I swung my sword at the first target. “I know I’ve got a badass sword, but I feel like you guys are cheating!”

In lieu of an answer, something hot seared across my cheek. The skin over my cheekbone immediately blistered, and I heard the crackling impact of a fireball somewhere behind me. “Oh, yeah?” I smirked despite the pain that flared in the burn. “You think you’re the only one here who can throw? Watch this!”

The Gladius Solis launched out of my hand javelin-style and pierced my adversary through the center of his chest. As he buckled, the blade embedded itself in an ax-brandishing woman behind him.

“Ta-da!” I said.

She stopped mid-stride, and her weapon faltered at the top of its swing. A bright glob of fire fell from her lips and seared a smoking ring into the ground. On its way back to my hand, the Gladius Solis cut clean through her. She hit the ashy dirt in two halves.

“Do you ever get tired of that kind of thing?” Deacon asked. He nailed two more in the head and dropped them neatly.

“Nope,” I said cheerfully. “It’s good for teaching these jackoffs a lesson.” I held the sword one-handed, spun, and lopped off one of the intensely-red heads. Smoke and fire poured from the neck stump, and the body staggered for a moment or two. I turned my attention to the leader. “But we’ve done enough screwing around, haven’t we? Let’s take care of this problem once and for all.”

He stared at me, his lips pulled back into an almost gleeful smile. “Ha!” he exclaimed and threw his head back. “It has been too long since I received a proper challenge. My only regret is that it comes from a weakling like you.”

The man reached for his weapon and brought forth a two-handed hammer, its head mercilessly alight. The sight of it threw me for a loop—I’d seen one exactly like it very, very recently.

That split second of hesitation was all the bearded warrior needed. He brought that thing down with all his strength and clearly expected to finish me off in one shot. I blocked his strike narrowly with the flat of my blade. We pushed hard against each other, and our feet dug into the dirt. The cracks in his skin surged and glowed with the fire-blood that roiled beneath the surface. Drops of sweat formed and instantly vaporized off his face.

“Foolish girl,” he growled as he bore down even harder. “Do you think you can alter the will of the gods?”

“No,” I retorted. “I intend to crush it. And I’ll…start…with you!” A war cry erupted from my throat, and I surged upward and knocked him onto his back foot. The hammer lifted as his bulky arms pinwheeled for balance. I struck out with my blade.

The redheaded behemoth was light on his feet. He hopped out of my reach and escaped with little more than a scalded abdomen. His whole face darkened into a mask of rage. I squared up and waited for his counterattack.

Instead of re-engaging, however, he simply spat at me and fled with his hammer in hand. My first instinct was to follow his cowardly ass into the woods to see if I could finish him off, but the inferno engulfed the house with Brax still in it. I turned to face the roaring heat.

It was suffocating, overwhelming. I had a tough time even inching toward the flames.

Victoria, do not! Marcus exclaimed. My feud with Abraxzael notwithstanding, you could not survive that environment on your own.

The last of the roof caved in and sent a plume of flame higher still. I shielded my eyes as best I could from the unrelenting force of the fire and squinted toward where I’d seen the demon disappear. The door was all but gone, engulfed in a writhing maw of flame.

Suddenly, the outline of a man burst through that impenetrable wall of heat. Brax leapt onto the cool, cinder-dusted dirt, his arms full. His coat had been wrapped around two bundles held tightly against his chest, and a third clung to his back.

Deacon and I dashed forward as soon as he landed. The first bundle was the baby we’d heard before the fire started. Smears of soot stained her cherubic cheeks, but she gripped the edge of the coat with the unmistakable vigor of the living. The moment her little lungs drew in the fresh air, she burst into tears once again.

The young woman who had fallen from Brax’s back stumbled to her feet and reached for the child. Her pretty face was dirty and stained with tears. “My babies,” she sobbed, and the words hitched.

Chapter Seventeen

Brax lifted his coat to reveal a second child. The little boy seized his mother’s skirts and howled almost as loud as the baby. The whole forest shook with the siblings’ cries until their mother pulled herself together enough to sing a snippet of a lullaby. She gathered her son onto her lap, cradled the infant in the crook of her arm, and rocked them while she crooned softly. Both children gradually calmed. I knelt at the young woman’s side.

“Are you all right?” I asked and kept my voice as gentle as possible. She had a shell-shocked look in her eyes. “Is anyone hurt?”

She stopped humming the melody and turned her gaze to me. “No, I don’t think so.” She ran her hands over her children and checked them for injuries. “Not hurt.” She shook her head. “But we’re freezing and hungry. And we’re alone.” She drew a shaky breath. “I fear everyone else is dead.”

Rather than voice my agreement, I laid a hand on her arm and tried my hardest to channel Jules. “What’s your name, hon?”

“Laurel,” she said shakily. “It’s Laurel. And these are my little ones.” She brushed her fingers tenderly over the boy’s hair. He turned shyly toward me. His eyes were the same clear blue as his mom’s.

“Hi, Laurel. I’m Vic.” I smiled. “My friends and I will take you to a safe place. Can you tell us anything about where we are right now? Is this where you’re from?”

“It was…” Laurel trailed off. She sniffled through a new wave of tears. “I wanted to raise my family here and build a life. This was our dream house.” Her thin shoulders slumped. “But something happened to the forest a while back. The trees…they came alive. And they were angry.” She gazed with numb fear into the depths of the surrounding wood. “I don’t doubt they still are.”

I exchanged glances with Deacon and Brax. “They’re angry,” I repeated. “Tell me about that.”

The poor young woman shuddered. “They can move, but I don’t know how. All that really matters is that they do it. Jesse says he saw it happen once or twice. Always at night, he says. When no one’s looking. Isn’t that right, Jesse?” The little boy nodded, his eyes wide and solemn. His mother continued. The sentences tumbled as if released from behind a great weight. “I used to love watching him play in the field. We took walks and went bird watching and looked for bugs.” She chuckled hollowly. “There aren’t any birds now. I don’t even know if there are bugs.”

“But there’s something,” Deacon prompted. He took his jacket off and draped it around her shoulders. “Here, take this. You three are nothing but skin and bones.”

“We couldn’t leave,” Laurel told us. She talked barely above a haunted whisper. “I waited too long to try to get us out, and by the time I knew we didn’t have a choice, the place was full of those horrible burned ones.” She ran her palms vigorously up and down her arms. “We’ve laid low for days, even after we ran out of food. The water is low too. I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey.” I shifted so that she could see me clearly. “I told you, we’ll take you out of here, and I meant it, okay?”

Laurel chewed her pale lips. “It won’t be easy,” she said. Her hand tightened on my sleeve with a surprisingly strong grip. “We made a run for it once, but we had to come back.” Tears brimmed above her lower eyelashes. “Can you imagine? I had to bring my babies back to this awful prison.”

I squeezed her arm. “That must be how they finally found you,” I said. “I’m glad we got here in time.”

She shook her head. A specter of fear drifted across her face and settled deep into her half-starved features. “Something else is waiting deeper in the forest.” Her volume dwindled down to almost nothing. “A monster.”

I examined her closely to discern whether this information was paranoia-fueled fiction or actual fact. She looked at me with bare, frightened honesty, and I decided to take her words at face value—for now.

I offered her my hand, and we both stood. “Let’s get you safe,” I said.

She lit up with hope. “Thank you. Oh, thank you so much. You’re an angel.”

Deacon and Brax moved in around her and her son. After a peek at the GPS, I directed us back the way we’d come, and we began to walk.

We weren’t alone for long.

Loud, boisterous voices drifted through the trees, capped by the braying laugh of their bearded leader. Laurel froze like a deer in headlights. Instinctively, she searched for a place to hide. “Don’t run off,” I cautioned her and held her arm. “We’ll defend you. Trust me. We are your best chance.”

She cowered and trembled visibly. Her little boy tugged at her skirt. “Mommy?” he asked loudly. “Are the bad guys back?”

Laurel shushed him, but it was too late. The voices fell dead silent the moment the child spoke. They picked up again and grew louder as they angled directly toward us. Deacon, Brax, and I stepped together to form a living barrier between Laurel’s little family and the barbarians who shortly materialized from the uneven tree line.

The leader emerged first and planted his feet in a wide, immovable stance directly in front of me. His grin had become more of a snarl, and as he bared his teeth, more of his forces appeared to surround our party. There were too many for us to handle without backup. His troops filled the spaces between the trees as far back as I was able to see.

“Going somewhere?” the leader demanded with a leer. “It’s rude of guests to cut and run, don’t you think?”

Brax clenched his fists. “Get the hell out of our way.”

“Or what?” The brute ran his fingers through the red coils of his beard. “You’ll fight like a fool and be killed where you stand? That’s fine by me.”

Laurel screamed in horror as her kid bolted from the safety of her embrace. His huge eyes were crazed with fear.

The warrior strode forward and reached one burly arm past me with lightning speed. I lunged to deflect him, but he was deceptively quick.

“No!” Laurel sobbed.

“See this rat?” he asked and lifted the little boy by the ragged collar of his shirt. “Make one wrong move—one tiny move that I don’t like—and I’ll burn him alive. The other one, too.” For emphasis, he pointed at Laurel’s face.

She flinched, her gaze locked on her son as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please don’t,” she pleaded. “Please!”

“Hear that?” asked the leader. He snorted. “The lady doesn’t want me to cook her little piglets.” He scowled. “I didn’t think so. Does anyone have any objections?”

I glanced at Deacon and Brax. The agent knew an impasse when he saw one, but Brax? I wasn’t so sure. The blatant, white-hot rage scrawled across his face didn’t offer much assurance that this wouldn’t end in copious amounts of bloodshed. I tried to get him to make eye contact with me so I could signal him with my eyes, but everything except the sneering redhead had ceased to exist in his world.

One second ticked by. It might as well have been an hour. The kid, still held aloft, had begun to cry again, though he did not squirm. Brax’s black eyes flicked to the boy’s face.

Finally, he stepped back. His rage had obviously not cooled, but he chose to stand down for maybe the first time in his life. Following his lead, I put my hands up at shoulder height, palms out. Deacon did the same.

The brute laughed. “So, you have some sense after all. I’m surprised—but not yet impressed. There will be time for that later.” He tucked the kid under his arm. “This, I keep. Call it insurance.”

Laurel sobbed. I wanted to comfort her, but I didn’t dare turn my back on the leader.

“March, piggies,” he commanded. “A new destiny awaits.”

Chapter Eighteen

The redheaded barbarians herded us deeper into the twisted trees, their weapons at the ready. They watched us like hawks for any suspicious movement. Behind me, Laurel cried quietly and clutched her baby to her chest.

I could feel Brax smolder with barely contained fury, though I didn’t dare look in any direction except forward. We marched in silent formation along the overgrown track. The soldiers’ footsteps were a steady drumbeat in my ear. Under the leader’s burly arm, Laurel’s son hadn’t moved a muscle.

The path deteriorated significantly at the end of what had formerly been the town’s main street. Gnarled root balls marred the way, some as wide around as my waist. Hardly any grass grew in this place. Mostly, only debris littered the ground. My foot kicked a ragged plastic bag half-buried in the mud. The skeleton of a shopping cart lay on its side, its wheels long gone. More houses appeared, each looking at least as run-down as Laurel’s.

A tableau of destruction, Marcus said.

I kept my mouth shut, followed in the leader’s wake, and did my best to project a docile image. I had no doubt that we’d be slaughtered if they caught even the slightest whiff of resistance—most likely starting with Laurel’s closely guarded son.

The tribe had shepherded us a quarter mile before the sound of other people pierced the quiet. Coarse voices conversed in a language I didn’t understand over more and more footsteps. We turned a bend, and I saw a pack of the same redheaded warriors who led their own captives. I looked into the frightened eyes of dozens like Laurel. Some of them were in even worse shape.

Our leader stopped, moved back, and motioned for us to join the new throng of prisoners. Acting against every ounce of logic in my brain, I did as he indicated. Deacon and Brax fell into place next. They did their best to shield Laurel from the newcomers’ prying eyes. She kept her head down, but she couldn’t resist shooting fearful glances after the leader as he strode toward the front with her child. Her trembling fingers dug into the baby’s thin blanket.

I managed to get near enough to grab her free hand and squeeze it. She froze, but the ghost of a tiny, grateful smile settled on her lips. Providing her a shred of comfort made me feel slightly better, and I didn’t release her hand as we resumed our march. Most of the enforcers were out of my line of sight, but I knew they were there and flanked us like sharks that had penned in a school of prey.

The walk went on forever, and the farther we went, the harder it was to take it quietly, despite Laurel’s hand still shaking in mine. She had finally stopped weeping, but her eyes stared blankly ahead. I turned to Deacon on my other side and whispered, “Can you look after her? I want to see if I can work the crowd a little.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Deacon replied. “Probably better you than me.” We changed places, and his fingers brushed the small of my back. “Good luck.”

I slipped through the crush of bodies and looked for anyone who could potentially be coaxed out of their shell. Hardly anyone noticed as I passed, and when they did, it was only for a second. My attempts to start conversation were met with little more than tight-lipped stares. The atmosphere was heavy, cold, and fearful. I pushed it away. The single thought present in my mind was that I needed to get something started there—if not a full-scale revolution, then at least some civil discontent.

But everyone was either terrified, demoralized, on their last legs, or a combination of all three. One of the guys I approached was so short of breath he couldn’t even respond, and his friends shooed me away. Plus, I had to be wary of possible eyes on me at all times and of the fact that the soldiers might see my purposeful movement as a threat. I darted a few feet at a time and tucked myself as close to the absolute center as possible. The longer I could stay out of sight, the better.

In all honesty, I really didn’t have a real plan. I merely didn’t want anyone to get in my way. For once, all I wanted to do—all I could do—was talk.

I lost track of time fairly quickly as I weaved through that living maze. At least a dozen more interactions fizzled and died in the cold. A young woman finally stopped me as I cut carefully in front of her. “You’re wasting your time,” she told me, and her lips barely moved. “And you’re putting us all in danger. We’ve accepted the inevitable. You should too.” She directed her dark eyes to the ground at her feet.

“You can’t all think that way,” I said. “I’m trying to help.” The situation was dire; I understood that. But the air of insurmountable hopelessness crept under my skin. I refused to subscribe to that way of thinking. My own tribe had been through worse. Finding a way, however, required a will, which was sorely lacking at the moment.

Victoria, I have ruminated over our new acquaintances. Perhaps I can be of some assistance.

“Go for it.” I wound slowly back toward Deacon, Brax, and Laurel, a little glum and relieved to hear a helpful voice that wasn’t my own. “There isn’t much else at the moment.”

It remains puzzling to me that these particular Forgotten should have teamed up with the likes of Oxylem, but they do remind me of one individual in particular. His name was Hyrrik. You might have considered him similar to human Vikings.

“Known for their hospitality,” I quipped. “I guess that explains all the burning. And now we can safely assume there was pillaging, too. That would have kept me up at night for sure.”

I detect trace amounts of sarcasm in your tone, he said flatly.

I brushed it off. “I’m more interested in why the hell this dude and Brax use the same hammer. Maybe not exactly the same, but you know what I mean. It can’t be a coincidence.”

For that, you will have to ask Abraxzael yourself. In which case, you are on your own. He sounded a little sullen. I refuse to engage with him.

“Suit yourself,” I said. Marcus fell silent, and I approached the demon’s dark, brooding figure. He didn’t acknowledge me as I fell into step beside him. I wanted to roll my eyes a second time, but I restrained myself. “Can I ask you something?”

“You will regardless,” Brax said. “So why not?”

I sighed. “Geez, don’t cut yourself on that edge, my man. All I want to know is, what’s the deal with your heroic first-responder routine back there? For someone who never shuts up about how little he cares for humanity, you sure came dangerously close to giving a shit.”

The demon gritted his teeth and obviously regretted the fact that he hadn’t ignored me outright. He said nothing for at least thirty seconds. “The baby’s cry reminded me of something.”

“Okay,” I prompted and angled for more. “Of what?”

That time, he stonewalled me completely. His hands were shoved deep in the pockets of his coat, and his face was unreadable behind those black glasses. A palpable barricade had gone up in front of that line of questioning. I reversed and tried a different tack.

“I saw you talking to Jules before we left. Did she give you a locket or a valentine or something?” It was meant to be a joke, but he didn’t take the bait. His expression remained inscrutable.

Before I could say anything else, a shout rang out. Everyone flinched collectively. “Separate!” the warriors at the front shouted, their weapons raised. “Women and children to the left. You pathetic, weakling men, to the right. Now!”

The formerly grave-silent herd of prisoners erupted in a wave of emotion as we realized we would be separated. In the instant it took to look at Brax, he had already been drawn away. Deacon squeezed my arm as he moved past.

I bolted for the burly leader.

He saw me coming. “What now, you pesky wench?” he demanded. “You’re starting to annoy me.”

“Where are they going?” I asked. “Why are you dividing us?”

“See for yourself,” he said and swept his arm out. In doing so, he dropped Laurel’s son. I gathered the child up quickly, prepared to stand my ground. But now that we’d blended into a larger populace, the brutish man didn’t seem to care that much about the boy. He glared and shrugged. “Look.”

The path ended ahead, and the claustrophobic ranks of trees gave way to a surprisingly wide and open clearing. Massive, sawed-off stumps dotted the dead plain. Once I comprehended what I saw, my heart sank. This was the true national forest, or what remained of its ruins. An army of emaciated men labored to cut down the trees that were left. Thick, rough-looking vines chained them together, and when one collapsed, the others in his gang all stumbled.

“What the fuck?” I whirled to look for Deacon and managed to catch one last glimpse as he gazed back at me. In a split second, he was gone in the rush of other men, and I was prodded forward.

“Enough questions,” the leader said brusquely. “Let’s go.” He led us toward where the trees were still the thickest around the edge of the clear-cutting. The trunks felt more like the bars of a cage now between us and that horrific scene.

I wasn’t sure which side I wanted to be on.

Chapter Nineteen

If nothing else, I was able to reunite Laurel with her son and released the boy into his mother’s open arms. She wept with joy although she didn’t dare stop walking. He clung to her skirt. I took her hand again.

“Thank you,” she said through tears. “Thank you so much. I thought…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “It’ll be okay.”

Skepticism furrowed her brow. “I’m not sure.” Her voice dropped. “There are monsters in these woods. We’ve never been out this far, and with good reason.” She talked softly as if she were afraid the others would hear. “I wasn’t kidding when I said we never left the house.”

The mention of monsters had roused the little boy’s interest. He peered out from behind Laurel with wide, bright eyes but she shook her head and didn’t elaborate.

I wracked my brain for a way to extract more information without acting like a jerk. She was clearly traumatized, and she was not the only one. Every woman I saw had that same haunted expression. The last thing I wanted was to make it worse, but I also needed to understand all possible threats.

Laurel didn’t volunteer anything more after that, and I didn’t want to leave her side. I remained silent and mulled things over in search of the best angle of approach. My thoughts were interrupted by a familiar moaning howl from the trees.

“Slow!” came the call from the front line. Our movement ratcheted down until we barely shuffled forward, which struck me as a little odd. I stretched to peer over the group at the redheaded soldiers. They were on full alert and their wide eyes peered into every dark nook and cranny they could possibly see. I frowned. Were they looking for something? Wary of an ambush?

Suddenly, they didn’t act like the top of the food chain, and that concerned me.

Something tugged at my jeans, timid but insistent. I glanced into the round, sweet face of Laurel’s son. “Can I tell you something?” Jesse asked somberly.

I bent to hear him better and slipped my arm around his shoulders. He nestled up to me, and even though I’d never been what some might call a kid person, I felt my heart melt a little. “You sure can,” I said, my tone light. “What’s up?”

“Do you hear that?” He pointed vaguely to indicate the ethereal noise that resounded through the air. “That’s what the trees say when they know he’s coming.”

The ominous way he spoke sent a chill through my blood. “Who’s ‘he?’” I asked.

The kid’s giant blue eyes panned the surroundings. From his vantage point, there was little to see other than legs and feet. “The white wolf,” he proclaimed reverently.

I bit my tongue to keep from spewing my instinctual response, which was along the lines of, “And who the hell is that?” It turned out not to matter anyway. Before I had the chance to utter another word, a different howl eclipsed the first. This cry was louder than the trees as if it came from even greater multitudes. And it was all around us.

“Stop!” the leader bellowed. “The enemy approaches. Do not back down.” At once, all his subordinates drew into a tighter circle, tense and ready. I strained to see what they watched for, but inside, I already knew. I’d worked side by side with one for too long not to recognize the battle cry of a Were.

Their first strike was swift, merciless, and immediately overwhelming. The wolves surged upon the flame-haired Vikings like a tidal wave of terror and ripped into their ranks. The women screamed, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of soldiers dying in droves. In a matter of seconds, flames flickered as they bled from the Vikings’ wounds.

“Oh, hell no,” I said and went quickly into full evacuation mode. “Listen to me!” I shouted above the din. “We have to get the fuck out of here if we want to live. Follow me!” I grabbed Laurel by the hand yet again and her kid too.

She beckoned to the woman beside her. “You can trust this lady,” she said. “She saved my family.”

The woman looked at her, then at me, and nodded with grim determination. “If she can help us through this,” she said, “that’s all that matters.”

“Stick together!” I called. “But move fast. The fire will spread.”

Smoke already hung in the air, tinged with the acrid scent of burning hair. The screams of the dying followed us as I herded the flock of women and children away from the fight. Some of them covered their ears, and most of the kids wailed, but many of the mothers stood strong and resolute. They were tough. They’d seen a lot of shit.

I stopped in a place with clean air, far enough from the bloodbath that we’d have ample warning if the fire got out of hand. “Stay here,” I told the group. “We won’t move unless we’re in danger.”

“What’s happening?” Laurel’s boy asked me. “Are there more bad guys now?”

“Could be,” I said. I was grateful for the werewolves’ intervention—to a point. They weren’t all like Maya, but they could all wreak havoc like her. “I don’t know for sure, so we have to be careful, all right? Stick close to your mom. Keep her safe.”

He nodded gravely. Laurel scooped him into her embrace. I drew my sword and threaded through the trees toward the massacre but not too far from my group. The worst mistake would be to leave them defenseless. I glanced over my shoulder once to give them some sort of assurance, and at that moment, the best I could think of was a thumbs-up. They did not look very comforted.

“Nice one, Vic,” I said under my breath. “Now they probably think you’re a lunatic too.”

Lunatics can still have honor, said Marcus helpfully.

I sighed. “Thanks, buddy.”

The clash grew louder in my ears, and so did the crackle of the building inferno. Tongues of flame danced amid the trees, which were splashed with wolf blood and ashes. Through the thickening smoke, I caught an eerie silhouette of a Viking soldier torn to shreds by one of the beasts. A figure emerged from the melee and barreled toward me, wild-eyed. His beard was half burned off his face, but I recognized the Viking leader. His air of cockiness had been replaced with one of crazed fury and bitter desperation.

“You!” he shouted and fixed his blazing eyes on me. “You must have lured them here. You must have known.”

“Known what?” I asked. “That werewolves are insane and also super strong? Yeah, I’m not an idiot.”

He bellowed an anguished roar. “Shut up! Shut up!” The head of his hammer swung high and lit a corona in the surrounding smoke. “I’ll torch you.” His voice was hoarse, and his chest heaved. “That will fix it. I’ll end it all and wipe the slate clean. Gods forgive me—”

The last sentence was mangled by a grunt of pain as a huge, dark shape bore down on him from the side and crushed his body into the ground. The former Viking leader groaned and twisted futilely under the force of a great, grizzled paw. The creature that loomed over him was enormous, vicious, and covered in white fur. It was missing an eye and a foreleg. In place of the limb was a long silver blade.

The wolf turned to me and exhaled a furious breath. I stared into its face and asked, “Smitty?”

I’d never seen a Were smile before, but the old guy managed somehow. “Vic,” he said. “I thought you’d never return.”

Chapter Twenty

“Well, I’ll be damned.” I grinned. “Good to see you, Pops. Any chance you can get us the hell out of here?”

Smitty winked. “Sure I can. But I gotta warn you. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” His Were voice was deep and gravelly, a fitting match for the grizzled silver wolf who towered over us. Two other Weres appeared to take responsibility for the captive Viking. “No time to waste.” Behind him, the bloody battle climbed toward a crescendo. “Come this way. Don’t fall behind, now.”

With that, he led us to the right so we could circumvent the worst of the fight. I ushered the women in front of me in order to make sure no one was left behind. Smitty moved fast at the head of his new pack. He cleared debris out of the way with broad sweeps of his arm and his gleaming silver blade.

“It’s okay,” I said to the group. “Believe it or not, I know this guy. He’s a friend—and the best thing that could’ve happened at the moment.”

Nobody seemed totally comfortable, but no one argued either. Given the alternative, Smitty the friendly werewolf was quite obviously the lesser of two evils. As our band of escapees picked up the pace, I made my way back to the front and Smitty’s side.

“Where are we headed?” I asked. “Because we’re missing some people, and I really don’t want to screw off and let them fend for themselves.”

Smitty glanced at me. “I have my men already on it,” he said. “Trust me. They’ll be fine.” A grimace of disgust crossed his lupine features. “These warmonger jackasses don’t stand a chance.”

Heartened by his response, I let myself relax a little. “I’m glad to know you still have your community together,” I told him. “Maya will be happy to hear that, too.”

He smiled fondly at the mention of the vet’s name. “I wondered if that girl had come back with you,” he said. “It’s a pity she didn’t. There are a lot of folks who would’ve liked to see her back at HQ.”

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “She wanted to be here, but the fort couldn’t spare both of us. Someone needs to hold it down, right?”

He chuckled coarsely. “You have yourself a fort?”

I nodded. “An old military base in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. It’s a pretty sweet setup, but I needed someone there I could trust while I’m gone.”

“Makes sense. Tell me what you’re doing way out there in the wilderness. You were pretty set on getting back to your city last time I saw you.”

“I was,” I said. “And we did. We stayed for as long as we could, but the gods eventually ran us out. It turns out New York is a coveted battleground in this war, and I decided I’d rather save lives than hold my ground.”

Smitty nodded approvingly. “That’s a sign of wisdom,” he intoned. “We heard snippets along those lines from the girl on the radio. At least until all hell broke loose about a month ago.” He grinned again and bared his impressive fangs. “She and Amber were about tickled pink when they found out they both knew you. I guess it ain’t that surprising if you think about it.” His gaze made a quick circuit of the woods around our troop. “I’ll tell you more when we get settled. I can’t afford to get too distracted while we’re out here. Just because there’s a fight on doesn’t mean we’re safe.”

I craned my neck to look toward the canopy. The howling from the trees had faded somewhat as we relocated, but I could still hear it in the distance. The ones in our immediate vicinity hummed although they weren’t as loud or insistent. “Do you know what’s going on with this forest?” I asked. “I’ve never heard anything like it. A little bird told me it happens a lot when you’re around.”

“Yeah,” Smitty said. “They do that whenever any wolf is nearby, really. At first, I thought it was a fear thing like they assumed we would attack them. I saw it like the members of a herd protecting each other, alerting everyone to the presence of predators.” He brushed his claws lightly against a trunk. “Now I kinda think it’s a different story. They’re more like cheerleaders in their own way. And they scare the shit out of those damn matchstick men, so I don’t complain.”

I gave him a sidelong look. “You’re talking like these trees have feelings, you old hippie,” I joked.

He shrugged his grizzled shoulders. “Well, they might still. They were people once.”

I can confirm that the werewolf is correct. The trees in this section of the forest are souls that have been converted by Oxylem. Traditionally, this process occurred by their choice, but I am quite sure this has not been the case for some time as far as the vast majority is concerned.

I drew in a sharp breath. Suddenly, the disfigured trees seemed to stand out in much greater detail and commanded more of my attention. “These were all—”

Smitty put a finger to his lips. “When we get to where we're going, I’ll fill in all the gaps,” he said in hushed tones. “For now, I’d like us to move a little quieter. We’re close, and I don’t want to be tracked.”

I shut my mouth, but thoughts raced in my head. It had not occurred to me that the creepy forest itself might be made up of its former inhabitants. The revelation that we had essentially walked through a living graveyard sent a shiver up my spine. I glanced back toward the battle we’d left. The prospect of a forest fire loomed even grimmer than before.

Smitty dropped until he was almost on all fours. At a distance, he could’ve passed for something like a real wolf. He was still too bulky, too shaggy, and too purely wild in face and shape, but he had clearly learned a hell of a lot about surviving in his current form.

I sidled as close to his furry side as I could get. “How far?” I breathed inches from his ear. He lifted one arm and pointed into an outwardly impenetrable wall of underbrush. I hesitated and glanced back at the women and children who trailed behind us.

He moved ahead, dove into the foliage, and opened a path down the middle as if it were water. Quickly, I motioned for the others to follow close behind and went in after him. We stayed low and waded through a scratchy sea of dead leaves and branches. The tunnel narrowed briefly before it widened into a more normal path.

At that point, Smitty straightened. He loped toward the edge of a bright, warm clearing. “That’s our home base there,” he said. The words were tinged with pride. “We worked hard to build ourselves up after that epidemic.”

I smiled, happy for his success and eager to be among friendly faces. “I can’t wait to see it.”

He stepped through the tree line. “You don’t have to wait, ʼcause here we are.” We paused to take it in. “Welcome to the resistance, Vic.”

Chapter Twenty-One

“Wow,” I murmured.

The clearing, like every other location we’d seen so far, was massively overgrown and returned slowly to its natural state. Twisted tendrils of roots pushed their way through the soil as far as I could see, despite the fact that few trees grew beyond the point where we stood. In the center of the space, a huge stone structure soared into the sky.

The empty frame of a former window gazed down on us like a blinded eye to tell me that this place had once been a church. Time and the elements meshed its austere glory with the ethereal beauty of the wild. Vines twined over mossy stone, holes crumbled in the façade, and trees pushed through the eroded floor and reached for the roof. But its walls held firm, and the doors at the top of the sweeping entrance stairs were fortified with iron.

“A stunner, isn’t she?” Smitty remarked. “Someone smiled upon us when we found her more or less intact.” He wasted no time and herded our troop of escapees into the building, including me.

The towering doors creaked open, and a warm wash of light poured over our weary group. Smitty’s people waited across the threshold to welcome us with open arms. Some of the women burst into tears in the face of such hospitality. Others were joyfully reunited with the brothers, husbands, and sons who had made it here ahead of us.

“Damn,” I said to Smitty. “You weren’t kidding about having that covered.” I turned to pat him on the shoulder, but the wolf had gone. “Where the hell did he go?”

“Hey, stranger.” The grin that popped onto my face as soon as I saw Deacon was automatic, born of sheer relief. He pulled me into his arms for a quick squeeze. “Check these digs out.” He left his arm around my shoulders.

“You think they’re nicer than ours?” I asked. The church wasn’t as big as Fort Victory, but its sanctuary was nice and open and allowed enough room for beds and other things. Dozens of people milled around to settle the new arrivals. The smell of a hot meal in the making wafted down a hallway.

“Nah,” Deacon said. “But there’s more of a rustic charm.”

“I wouldn’t call this place rustic,” Brax interjected. He had appeared out of thin air, as was his wont, and as usual, he seemed thoroughly unimpressed. “Overbearing, maybe. There are a bunch of creepy statues near the front.”

I gave him the once-over. “I’m surprised you’re not literally on fire, Brax,” I said.

He folded his arms. “That’s a new one. Tell it again, why don’t you?”

I chuckled, released Deacon, and scanned the room once more for Smitty. He walked toward us, a wiry old blacksmith with a full white beard. The sword in his arm socket bore a sheath, and he smiled with his entire wrinkled face. Everyone he passed greeted him like an old friend—in many cases, he probably was.

He guided us toward the far wall of the sanctuary, where a closed door led to the church’s inner office. “Gentlemen,” he said and nodded to Deacon and Brax. “How are we doing? All in one piece?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon replied. “Let me take this opportunity to thank you for saving our asses. You showed up in the nick of time.”

Smitty laughed. “We’ve had practice, my boy. Maybe too much of it.” His expression sobered. “And it didn’t start here. The fighting’s been on and off since you left Washington all that time ago, Vic.”

He parked himself in a metal folding chair and fished a pipe from the front pocket of his overalls. “The wolf disease spread farther than we thought it would,” he said. “More of ʼem cropped up in droves—overnight, it seemed. Our original clan did the best we could to track them down and try to talk it through.”

As he spoke, he pinched tobacco from a pouch and used his thumb to tamp it down into the bowl. “It was easier after Lupres was dead. All that mind control trash from before went out the window.” Smitty frowned. “But then again, that made it harder in some respects too.” He delved into his pocket for a match, which he struck on the sheath of his arm-sword. “Not everyone saw the same safety in numbers that we did. Many times, I was told to screw off, and they left to make their own way.

“Too many turned against us, and we had to wage our own civil war. I can’t tell you how much blood was shed in the early days, but it was a damn river. Lord knows I didn’t want to do it. I don’t think anyone did.” He paused to take a puff of the pipe. The blue smoke plumed from his lips. “Still, we knew we had to do it, so it got done.” He sighed and shook his head. “Of course, we buried them all. You go back there, and you’ll find a veritable cemetery. What a shame.” Another puff released a billow of sweet-smelling smoke. “The silver lining is that there was a surprising number who did come with me. That’s how we got here.”

“You have an awesome operation,” I said. “I’m impressed.”

He looked at me. “Things didn’t take off until the gods came back. First, it was that jackass with the hammer bigger than his head. Up until then, we got by however we could and lived off our wits and the good graces of the outdoors. We could turn and hunt or turn and stay warm if we needed to, so we figured we didn’t need to be tied to a base. We planned to head east to see if we could join a bigger piece of civilization.”

“Why didn’t you?” I asked.

“We heard New York fell, and it wasn’t long before that god came sniffing around to claim his piece of the pie. He looked like an extra in one of those hero movies and called himself Hyrrik. He and his soldiers swarmed the land like a plague, and they brought fire wherever they went. You saw the evidence.”

“We did,” I said and thought of the scorched forest on the way in. “It looked like someone had burned towns for fun.”

“That’s about the long and short of it,” Smitty agreed. “They rounded up all the residents first, though. Anyone who resisted was either restrained or cut down. Everything that couldn’t be stolen was burned.” He adjusted the stem of the pipe between his teeth. “The big boss is gone now, and we’ve done all we can to resist and to collect former prisoners. But it’s hard to make real progress when we don’t have the numbers to press the advantages we get.”

“Simple,” I said and patted the Gladius Solis. “Step one, we find this fucker. He can’t hide forever. Step two, I get in as close as I can. Step three, I end him.”

To me, the blueprint for our attack was clear. But to my chagrin, old Smitty shook his head. “If it were that simple,” he said, “we would’ve done it already. When I say the boss is gone, I mean he’s dead because the first thing I did was lead a team in with the express intention to kill him. The fight was grueling. We lost many great people. But in the end, we got the bastard.” Smitty chuckled wryly. “The rest of them didn’t like that too much.”

“I salute your courage and your success,” Brax spoke up abruptly. He looked directly at Smitty. “Hyrrik was no weak fool. I know because he was the one who enslaved me the first time. He gave me a taste for violence and blood. And when I left, I took his hammer with me.” A smirk tilted the corner of the demon’s lips. “My only regret is that the beast is already dead—I would’ve enjoyed that sweet retribution myself.”

Nobody really knew how to respond to that. I could feel Marcus radiating incorporeal disapproval. Deacon broke the silence by asking Smitty, “Then what?”

Smitty puffed on his pipe. “Well, another god dropped by. A young one, nice looking, but he had a whole slew of monsters like I’d never seen that followed him around. It looked like the forest had come to life almost. But there was something wrong about it all.” The blacksmith leaned back in his chair. “We thought maybe he might be peaceful, or at least nonconfrontational, but no such luck. The rest of the fire guys defaulted to this kid’s command, and he simply picked up where the first left off. And let me tell you, they were hopping mad about us having the gall to challenge one of their own. The very first thing they did was purge a huge number of our forces as retribution. Hundreds, maybe thousands. That was when we ran into the forest and finally set up here.”

I had to keep my jaw from falling open at the end of his story. The gods I had known had been violent and greedy to an extreme, but I had never encountered this kind of wholesale destruction up close. An immediate wave of guilt surged through me. If I’d known that thousands of people struggled to survive on the west coast, I might have come sooner. “Damn it to fucking hell,” I muttered.

“That young guy and his monsters are the ones who make the trees like this,” Smitty continued. “Don’t quote me, but I think every time they kill someone, one of those trees pops up real quick like. They grow like the dickens, too. My guys think they’re haunted. Bad juju, as they say.” He shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll be honest. It caught me by surprise. If you saw this god, you’d know what I mean. He doesn’t look the type.”

“I have seen this behavior from the gods countless times,” Brax said, his voice sour. “The acts of cruelty aren’t without purpose. Most gods will rule through fear if given the choice. They find it to be the most effective tactic—they make themselves into great symbols of terror.”

Abraxzael is correct about this, but I am not sure I believe that Oxylem would have gone this way. His character never harbored such deep darkness.

“It makes sense,” Smitty acknowledged. “But those trees are more than symbolic. They harvest them. You would’ve been too if you’d gone where they wanted you to go.”

The image of the lumber chain-gang flashed through my mind. “That clearing,” I said. “Oxylem is chopping down his own trees.”

“Bingo.” Smitty pointed a finger at me. “They razed the old ones first, mind you. I think there’s something about these trees that he needs or that somebody needs. The men who get captured work until they drop dead. Then a tree sprouts where they fall and a new body comes to do the chopping.”

“What’s the wood for?” Deacon wondered. He had an expression of morbid curiosity on his face like he already understood the answer would be something he didn’t actually want to know.

“Hell if I know,” Smitty replied. “We can’t risk going back in to find out because I’m not sure we’d survive another round of retribution killings. We have to preserve what we’ve got. But the rumor mill’s churned for a while about how this tree god and the fire guy are small potatoes compared to whoever they’re working for.”

“I wonder who that is,” I mused.

“No clue about that either,” the old man said. “But I betcha I know someone who does.” A keen spark lit in his eyes as he pushed himself from the chair. The pipe, still full of the dregs of his smoke, disappeared into the pocket. “Come here. I wanna show you something.”

The four of us walked toward the back of the church into a cold, lonely room tucked away behind the altar at the head of the sanctuary. Its only feature was a heavy boulder in the middle of the floor. A broad-shouldered, beefy male had been chained to the huge rock. His fiery hair fell in ragged clumps over his face. When he saw me, he snarled.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I smiled sweetly at the Viking leader. “You can’t get enough of me, can you?” I asked.

The man growled like a rabid dog, and he almost foamed at the mouth, too. He looked out of his mind with rage and humiliation.

“I’ll handle this.” Brax stepped beside me and cracked each knuckle with quiet deliberation. “You two might want to step outside for a while.”

Deacon and I looked at each other. “Right,” the agent said. “Consider us gone.”

We left as the demon advanced on his helpless prey. The door had barely closed behind us before we heard the first screams.

Smitty coughed. “If you young people will excuse me, I have business to attend to.” He winked. “A revolutionary’s work is never done.”

“See you later, Smitty,” I said. “Thanks again.”

He smiled at me. “After what you did for us, this is the least I could do for you.” He ambled off to another part of the church, his blade arm swinging casually by his side.

I sat down against the wall and leaned my head back on the cold stone. Now that things had calmed down for more than five minutes and we were safe, exhaustion settled deep into my bones. I closed my eyes. Deacon sat beside me as another high-pitched screech emanated from the other side of the door. It was accompanied by an unfamiliar sound that I eventually identified as Brax’s laughter. “At least one of them is having a good time,” I remarked.

Deacon chuckled. “This is not exactly the venue I had in mind for our first date,” he said.

I gave him a look. “We’re on a date? And did you just say ‘venue?’”

He shrugged. “They teach you some five-dollar words at the academy.” He scooted a little closer and put his arm around me. “It’s not exactly a date, but considering the days we’ve had, I feel like it’s about as close as we’ll get for now.” More laughter leaked through the wall, accompanied by a sizzling sound. “The experience might be enhanced by some noise-canceling headphones, though.”

“Note to self,” I said. “Next supply run, raid an electronics store.”

Deacon added, “And find a plug that works or some good batteries. It’d be nice to have some other electronics again.”

“What would we use them for? My cell phone’s been dead forever, anyway, and it’s not like there’s much data service left. We might be able to find pockets if we’re lucky, but unless we went to California where Namiko is, I wouldn’t count on it. There are so many nerds out there that they have to have something rigged up.”

He squeezed my shoulder. “I like how you give them enormous amounts of credit and call them nerds in the same sentence.”

“Nerd isn’t a bad word.” I rest my head back against the wall. “And that’s what they are. I’m nothing if not honest.”

“Yeah.” Deacon stretched his long legs. “I always admired that about you, even when we weren’t necessarily on the same side. You might have made me as mad as hell, but there was never any bullshit.” He thought about it. “I mean, not really. You did tie me to a bed that one time. That wasn’t too far from here, actually.”

I glanced at him. “You talk about it so much, I almost think you enjoyed it.”

“Well, maybe, if things had ended differently,” he answered. “Did I ever tell you that the maid who found me called the entire housekeeping crew? She said it was because she didn’t know what to do, but I think it was so they could all laugh together. I had to bribe them not to call the police.”

I snorted. “Did you tell them you were the police?”

“Hell, no. I would never have heard the end of it. As it is, I barely escaped with my life.”

I shrugged. “I think you’re a little dramatic, but I’m sorry, nonetheless. I merely tried to help you build character. And keep you out of my way.”

“Look how that worked out for you,” Deacon replied.

I patted his leg. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re getting better. At least now, you know who’s in charge.”

We both grinned at that, and a warm, companionable silence filled the space between us. Every breath made his chest rise and fall behind my shoulder, and I felt my eyelids grow heavier. I thought he had dozed off too, but his voice roused me out of a pleasant half-sleep. The soundtrack of Brax’s little interrogation session formed a morbid lullaby.

“Hey, Vic.”

I opened my eyes. Deacon looked at me, our faces inches apart. “What’s up?” I asked. “Don’t tell me you want to bust in there and stop him. Something tells me the demon from Hell wouldn’t appreciate that, and I won’t act as anyone’s human shield.”

“No, no.” Deacon smirked. “I wanted to say, about that kiss earlier—”

He was cut off by another shriek and an accompanying bout of gleeful belly laughs from Brax. I placed my hand on his chest and slowly but firmly pushed him away. “Sorry, Romeo. American Psycho in there is kind of killing the mood.”

The FBI agent shook his head. “Damn girl,” he said. “Remind me never to take you out to a horror movie.”

I frowned. “Hey, man. If I have to pay ten bucks to see a movie, you better believe I’ll watch that shit.”

“Let’s say I pay,” Deacon countered. “Hypothetically.”

That made me smile. “Then we can talk.”

Neither of us wanted to interrupt Brax’s session with the Viking leader. The demon took his time, and Deacon and I took comfort in not having to do anything except listen to the information being extracted.

“This is kind of nice,” Deacon remarked. “Except for all the screaming.”

I ran my fingers through my hair. “I only hope the guy doesn’t die before we can talk to him. Brax is okay, but I can see him getting carried away quickly. I think there’s some bad blood there. Did you see how quickly he charged into the fire?”

“Let’s be real,” he said. “With Brax, there’s probably bad blood everywhere.”

I glanced down at my medallion. “No kidding.”

A few more minutes passed until the howling finally died down. Seconds later, Brax yanked the door open. He stepped into the hall, his coat smoking and his face and arms covered in burns.

“Holy hell,” Deacon said.

I raised an eyebrow. “How’s it going?”

The demon grinned more widely than I’d ever seen. His wounds didn’t seem to have any effect on him at all. He beamed at us. “Jerry is ready to talk now,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I almost choked on air. “Who?”

Deacon stood first and pulled me to my feet. We stared at the demon.

“Jerry?” I asked.

Brax stepped aside and gestured to the open door. The Viking leader slumped against the rock in his chains, surrounded by little pools of fire. Whatever damage had been done to Brax, Jerry had clearly received the brunt of the punishment as evidenced by the cuts and bruises all over his body. He had his head down, and his chin almost scraped his chest. His beard had been burned down to patchy, charred stubble.

“Doesn’t he look like a Jerry?” Brax asked.

He looked like he’d been hit by a truck, although I couldn’t feel too much sympathy for the man who would have killed us all. He’d earned this and more.

Even though Jerry the Viking was in a bad way, I stepped cautiously around him in case he still had some tricks up his sleeve. He didn’t look at me until I got close and then he squinted through the eye that wasn’t swollen shut. A trail of blood trickled from his lower lip.

“Hi, Jerry,” I said.

He sighed so deeply, I thought his lungs were turning inside out. “You win,” he rasped. “I tapped out. I wish my men were half as brutal as this piece of shit.”

“Thank you,” said Brax, with no small amount of pride. “Now talk, or I’ll get back to work.”

Jerry turned his bloodshot eye to me. “What do you want to know?” he asked. A bit grudgingly, he added, “Anything. No secrets.”

I stood in front of him. “First of all, thank you for your cooperation. And for giving Brax something to do for the last forty minutes. We’re not always fighting, see, and he gets bored.” I moved closer to the disgraced Viking and knelt to stare into his face. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about yourself and how the hell you got caught up in this mess.”

He seemed surprised, but he didn’t deny my request. “Okay.” Jerry coughed harshly and sucked in a breath. “Look, I thought I was a pretty bad dude back before all this started. Me and my boys ran with a rough crowd, and we were proud of the bullshit we got up to. Breaking and entering, vandalism, car theft. A couple of armed robberies, a lot of beatdowns on the streets. Real tough guy shit.” He grimaced. “It was a good life for us. We had a lot of fun. Fuck the police, fuck the rules, fuck bitches. You know.” He fidgeted, and the chains jangled. “I guess I always knew I was really on the bottom of the totem pole. There were guys who had stockpiles of money, weapons, fast cars, all that stuff. They could have snapped their fingers and gotten me killed in half a second if I ever stepped out of line. But I never thought about it that much until Hyrrik showed up.”

“What happened then?” I said.

Jerry glared at me. “He told me I was weak. He said I wouldn’t amount to anything unless I got off my ass and seized power from those who kept it for themselves. At first, I was pissed and thought ‘who the fuck does this scumbag think he is?’ But I realized he was right, and I started to have ambitions. I wanted to be the big dog for once, to have people follow my lead instead of the other way around. Hyrrik gave me the power to make it happen.” He paused. “The only thing was, he had a catch. If I didn’t do everything he said from that moment on, he’d take everything away.” He shrugged. “So what? He made it sound like he and I wanted to do all the same stuff anyway, so I agreed. It wasn’t so bad. Much like the way it had been, but better.”

“And then?” I asked.

“Then he died. I guess I ought to thank those fleabags for killing him because the weeks after that were the best of my life. We ruled this place exactly the way we wanted to. For a while, it was like the old times went into overdrive. Nobody told us what to do, and if they tried, we torched ʼem. Total freedom.” He actually looked wistful as he spoke. “But it didn’t last. The vamps showed up not too long after Hyrrik bit the dust. Since then, we’ve been under their thumb.”

“The vamps?” Deacon interrupted. “I thought you were working for Oxylem.”

Jerry brayed with laughter at the mention of the tree god’s name. “Please. That guy’s a candy-ass. He was so grateful to be rid of Hyrrik that he didn’t dare stand up to us, but the vamps rounded him up just the same. They made him turn his followers into trees, and then they made him sic them on everything else. He cried the whole time, the puny wimp. There was nothing else he could do.”

Brax looked slightly puzzled. “He’s a god,” he said. “He should have at least put up a fight.”

“He’s a peace-loving hippie, is what he is,” Jerry spat contemptuously. “He didn’t have a chance against the vampires. These guys would’ve torn him to shreds if he so much as thought about saying no.”

Deacon glanced at Brax and me. “I don’t get it. I thought the vamps were all scattered now. There’s no one left for them to follow.”

“Don’t look at me,” the demon muttered gruffly. “I’ve never understood those slimy fucks.”

“You don’t know much, do you?” asked Jerry. “The vamps have always had a leader, and what’s more, they fuckin’ worship him. I mean, they treat this dude like the god to end all gods. I heard them talk about him, and Oxylem’s worked his punk ass overtime to get things ready. Supposedly, he’s gonna come calling any day now. That’s what all this destruction is for.”

“A show of power,” I said.

“That’s it.” Jerry nodded. “The vamps want to show him they’re worth their salt, or maybe they don’t have a choice. He doesn’t sound like the most charitable guy in the world. They make it sound like if he goes to the trouble of showing up and doesn’t like what he sees, he’ll wipe us all out.”

“That’s great, but who are we talking about here?” I’d started to pace without even noticing, but my eyes remained fixed on Jerry. “I hope he has a name, for your sake.”

Off to the side, Brax cracked his knuckles again.

Jerry flicked his eyes to the demon and back to me. “He has a lot of names,” he said nervously. “It depends on who you ask. Some of the vamps call him the Angel of Death, which is pretty played out if you ask me. Some of ʼem call him the Serpent of the Shadows. Some simply call him the Quiet Man.”

“I’ll need something a little more specific,” I told him.

Brax moved to the knuckles of his other hand.

Jerry swallowed. “I heard Oxylem say it once,” he ventured. “He whispered it like even the name scared the shit out of him.” He paused as if he, too, was reluctant to release the name into the world.

“Out with it, Jerry,” I said tersely. “Trust me when I say you can’t afford to dick us around.”

The Viking’s jaw clenched. Brax closed in, and he flinched visibly. “Delano!” he shouted. “The name was Delano.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Wait, what?” I lifted my hand to the medallion around my neck and squeezed it to signal Marcus to tune back in. “You’re sure that’s what he said?”

“I swear on my right hand,” Jerry confirmed. “Delano isn’t the most common name in the world. Nothing else it could’ve been.”

The man speaks with conviction, Marcus chimed in. I do not perceive him to be lying, although I do find his information troubling.

That didn’t make much sense to me. In the few encounters I’d had with Lorcan’s favorite Apprenti, he never seemed like the biggest threat in the room. Sure, he was important to his boss, but I always figured he was more of a glorified errand boy, a fancy secretary with weird shadow powers. A yes-man above all else. The idea that he had enough power to terrify another god or to keep an entire region in line didn’t fit with the version of him that I knew.

I voiced my skepticism. “I don’t know, dude. I’ve had run-ins with Delano before, and he wasn’t that great. Besides, I’m the one who killed his boss. If he was super strong, why didn’t he come kick my shit in right away?”

“Beats me,” Jerry said, genuinely bewildered. “From what I’ve heard, he sounds like a damn psychopath. Maybe he couldn’t care less who you killed. Or maybe it made his life better like it did for me.”

I kicked at the floor. “Shit. What do you think, Brax?”

The demon studied Jerry’s downturned face. “Unfortunately, I’m inclined to believe this rat,” he said. “There’s an old legend about Delano from way back in the old days. About how he managed to become an Apprenti.”

You must understand, Victoria, that the Apprenti are not like a god’s other followers. The deal must be struck by both god and intended Apprenti, and the process typically requires great sacrifice on both sides. It is not something any god would do without a reason, least of all a deity as selfish as Lorcan.

“I’m listening,” I said.

“You don’t need me to tell you what a royal asshole Lorcan was,” said Brax. “He was around for a long time, and yet, no Apprenti. My guess is that he was a picky son of a bitch who couldn’t find a flunky to lick his boots clean enough. That, or he didn’t want to give anything up for the sake of someone he’d undoubtedly view as a slave. Whatever the case, he was on his own for ages until Delano finally came along. The legend is that Delano was human at some point. He had his own little kingdom in a corner of the world and everything. Came from an ancient line of rulers. The people thought the sun shone out of his ass.”

“Sounds like he had it made,” I said.

Brax nodded. “That’s the thing—you’d think he did. I’m sure those poor serfs gave him everything he ever demanded. But once he became Apprenti to Lorcan, the whole kingdom went up in smoke. His palace, his gigantic family, every single thing that had ever been his was gone.” Brax snapped his fingers. “Like that. Not a trace left behind.”

“I don’t get it,” I said. “Wouldn’t that make him hate Lorcan’s guts? Why would he work for the douchebag who murdered his family?”

The demon looked at me like I was an idiot teenager. “Read between the lines, Vic. Lorcan didn’t kill Delano’s family. He did it himself as a fucked-up tribute to Lorcan. He made them an offering to prove the strength of his loyalty.”

I paced faster as my mind spun to make sense of what I had heard. A strange, acrid scent leaked into my nostrils, but I ignored it under the weight of my thoughts. Would Delano have done something that heinous merely to secure a spot at the right hand of a god? Suddenly, I remembered the way he had looked at me whenever we were face to face and the way his pale eyes could pierce to my core. And I knew that yes, he would.

Abraxzael’s rendering of the legend is crude but accurate, Marcus said. There is no reason to believe that those events did not occur as described. Delano may have seemed utterly subservient while Lorcan was alive, but his meek exterior is only a façade. He is as cold-blooded and ruthless as they come, and he would stop at nothing to secure his nefarious aspirations. If what Jerry says is true, if Delano has found a way to gain real power, there is no telling what he could do with it.

“We have to stop him,” I said. I lifted my head, and the weird smell from a few minutes ago struck me full force. I furrowed my brow. “What the fuck is that?”

Behind me, Jerry laughed. It was a wild, uneven sound, hampered slightly by his injuries and the smoke that now poured into the room from a line of roaring flames. One of the Viking’s larger wounds had begun to bleed a steady stream of fire, which we’d been too distracted to notice. Now, the room filled slowly with an inferno.

Brax lunged forward as Jerry’s chains snapped from heat and stress and the Viking managed to strike him square in the jaw. The demon stumbled backward from the unexpected force and out of the circle of fire.

“You morons!” Jerry jeered. “You thought you won because you got me to spill my guts about Delano, but the joke’s on you. It doesn’t matter what you know if you’re too dead to tell anyone else. Soon, this place will be nothing more than a pile of bones and ashes.”

“Damn it, Jerry!” I yelled. “This is how you repay us for letting you live?”

He didn’t reply at all except for more hoarse guffaws. The flames whirled in an orange curtain. I drew my sword and channeled all my frustration into forward momentum.

On the other side of the wall of fire, I could hardly see anything. Thick smoke stung my eyes and tried to push its way into my lungs. Using the outline of the boulder as my guide, I pressed forward until Jerry was right in front of me. He stood upright, no longer shackled.

“I’ll admit you’re braver than I thought you’d be,” he said. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re too late.”

“Fuck you,” I said as I raised the blade and ran it through his chest. “How about that?”

The Viking died without another word.

Before his body hit the floor, I slammed the Gladius Solis down at my feet and conjured a shield around me. The flames that licked at my skin were shoved back by the golden shell of protection. I knelt in front of the sword and concentrated on widening its range. Gradually, the fire receded. It consumed most of Jerry’s corpse with a voracious hunger, and finally, short on fuel, it began to fizzle out. I didn’t move a muscle until I was certain that a threat no longer existed. Only then did I allow the shield to come down.

Deacon and Brax moved forward as soon as I stood. “Are you okay?” I asked Brax. “He slugged you pretty good.”

The demon scowled. “It’s nothing. What about you? I haven’t seen too many fireproof humans.”

I glanced at my arms and the backs of my hands. All the hair had been singed off, and the surface was pink and blistered. It stung, but I was no stranger to pain, and I could already sense the nectar working in my blood.

“I’m fine,” I said. “And Jerry’s dead as shit. But most importantly, the church won’t burn down.”

Brax grumbled. “You never let me kill anyone important.”

I patted his shoulder. “Sorry, buddy. Maybe next time.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

A ruckus outside drew our attention away from the dying embers of Jerry’s last stand. Old Smitty burst into the back room, wild-eyed, and brandished his augmented arm.

“What the hell is going on back here?” He flung his other arm across his nose and mouth as the smoke hit him and he coughed into the crook of his elbow. “I thought you were going to interrogate him, not burn him at the stake.”

“He’s the one who did the burning,” I replied. “Don’t worry, Pops. We’ve got it under control. Our subject got a little well done in the process, though.” I gestured to the body on the floor.

“Good riddance,” Smitty said. “Did you get anything useful out of him beforehand?”

“Yeah,” I said. “He thought it’d be safe to tell us everything since we would all die after the interrogation was over. He told us that Delano is the brains behind this whole operation. Kind of a mistake on his part, but we’re not complaining.”

Smitty waved us out of the room and backed out himself before he uncovered his face. “Let’s get on out of that barbecue pit before these old lungs up and quit. I’m not as young as the rest of you whippersnappers.”

“Weren’t you smoking a pipe earlier?” Deacon asked innocently.

The blacksmith rounded on the agent and narrowed his eye. He might have only had one eye, but that didn’t lessen the intensity of his gaze. “You,” he announced, “have graduated from whippersnapper to rapscallion. You better watch your step, young man, unless you want your ears boxed.”

Deacon hid a smile. “Sorry, sir. I merely made an observation.”

Smitty held his glare for a few seconds longer. Then he grinned and slapped Deacon on the back. “I’m fooling with you, boy. The pipe’s a bad habit, don’t I know it. But if you can believe it, I’ve felt damned good since I started on the old hair of the dog, so to speak.”

Deacon blinked., “Hair of the—oh. Right, of course, that would make you more...durable.”

We followed Smitty back into the church’s main sanctuary, which was enveloped by warmth, lively conversation, and the smell of a home-cooked meal. He paused near a large bin full of an assortment of clothing.

“Yeah,” he said and looked into the bin’s contents. “A lot of us were pretty peeved about it in the beginning, but that all changed once we realized how much more ass we could kick. Now, I think we’re all settled into our identities. We keep these crates of clothes out to make the transformation process a little, uh, smoother.”

“Got tired of flashing your junk to the world?” I asked.

“Something like that.” He picked through the items and found a shirt with a long rip in the middle. “Mind you, sometimes, this type of thing happens, so we gotta keep an eye on what ends up in here or else it’ll be only a bunch of filthy rags.” He shot me a smile. “I bet you didn’t think there’d be that much laundry in the resistance, but it keeps the gears moving.”

“Hey, that’s an awesome idea,” I said. “We should do that at the fort for Maya. She’s always trying to figure out a way to quick-change without showing off the goods.”

“It’s worked out well for us,” Smitty said. “I wasn’t sure how any of this would go at the start, to be honest with you. But so far, we’ve managed to grow our community despite the odds. And I gotta tell you, we have a mind to keep fighting no matter what.”

“That’s good to hear,” I told him. “We’re in the same boat.”

The old man gave me a sidelong look. “Sounds like there’s a ‘but’ on the way.”

“Well…” I scratched my head. “It’s apparently indisputable that Delano’s the mastermind here. I wish I knew more about what the hell he thinks he’s doing. I never was able to get a motive out of him in New York. I don’t think I realized he had one, which makes me feel incredibly stupid now.”

“Delano?” Thoughtfully, Smitty rubbed his whiskers. “That the name you said earlier? I’ve heard it before.”

“Really?” I tried not to get excited. “Where?”

“The girl on the radio mentioned it a few times. Now if only I could remember her name.”

“Namiko?” I volunteered.

He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! Very nice young lady, and smart as a whip. She and Amber got along like two peas in a pod.” His expression darkened. “She told Amber this Delano fellow has popped up all over the world and caused destruction everywhere he goes. He always leaves a pile of bodies in his wake—humans and gods alike.”

“Bastard,” I muttered. “Has she been able to get a bead on him at all? I know she’s stuck manning her hub in California, but we might be able to track him down if she has any leads.”

Smitty shook his head. “Amber said it’s not so simple. There are rumors about him everywhere, but none of the stories match up. She’s heard a million different descriptions of him doing a million different things. The only real consistency seems to be the name.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Deacon asked.

I gritted my teeth. “It means we’ve found our new priority number one. And you guys know what that means.”

“New plan?” Deacon asked knowingly.

I smiled at him. “New plan.”

We spent the next few hours at the drawing board with Smitty and some of his top strategists to hash out the next steps that, for the first time, didn’t really involve me. The reasons were solid once I understood, but I still went to bed feeling more than a little bummed. Not only that, but I quickly discovered how spoiled I’d been by all the creature comforts at Fort Victory. There was something incredibly humbling about a shower taken with cold water, a sponge, a bucket, and a thin sliver of soap.

“Marcus?” I asked when I lay in bed with the medallion on my chest. “Are you awake?”

Always. What is on your mind?

“What do you think Delano’s up to out there?” I asked. “Maybe it was naïve of me, but I didn’t think I’d hear that name after we defeated Lorcan. I’m not sure what to expect.”

In all honesty, neither am I, Marcus said. A part of me hardly believed the legend might be true, and yet, he appears to have pulled the wool over many, many eyes.

“And now he’s killing gods,” I said and rolled onto my side. “That’s my thing. This dude’s seriously cramping my style.”

It is surprising to me that his power should have increased to this level within such a relatively short space of time, Marcus said. This may be a sign of other forces at work. You will have to stay vigilant, as always. Keep your eyes open and your chin up.

“Sure,” I agreed. “It’ll give me something to do while I twiddle my thumbs from the sidelines.”

I tossed and turned for a long time after my conversation with Marcus drifted into silence. My room in the church was a private one but cold, and as I lay cocooned in the blankets, I did my best to think ahead to the future and where we were going and what our next moves might be. But despite my best efforts, my thoughts constantly returned to one thing above all else.

Tomorrow, Deacon would ship out on the next mission—without me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I didn’t get much sleep that night, and I woke in the sourest funk. I still got ready quickly so I could at least be there to watch the guys roll out. We had decided that too many would make them conspicuous, so Deacon and a small group were the only ones who prepped to actually leave that morning. The plan necessitated that every one of them be men, since women wouldn’t be allowed on the lumber gangs.

That meant I had to sit this one out completely. It wasn’t the only reason, but it was the one I liked best. I reminded myself of it over and over on my way toward the church’s exit. The front of the sanctuary buzzed with activity and excitement. Smitty’s men were hyped at the prospect of getting to face another big battle. I’d done my best to warn them that if they saw Delano, he’d be nothing like Hyrrik, no matter how strong the fire god had been. I told them to be careful, to be smart, and not to jump the gun. All of this was stuff they already knew, obviously. We were a band of veterans by now, and Smitty’s Weres didn’t really need my advice.

I was worried that they didn’t understand what they were in for. What if Delano saw through our scheme and didn’t take the bait? What if he countered with a preemptive strike? These were good men—great men—and yet, Delano’s wrath was apparently mighty as hell. I wished more than anything that I could go with them. That was what I thought about when Deacon found me with a sullen scowl plastered on my face as I stood near the wall.

“Don’t look so happy to see me,” he teased gently. “You didn’t have to get up so early. We’ll be fine.” I looked at him and felt like the tables had turned on me. He was the cocky, confident one who threw out quips and grins at the crack of dawn. My mind raced with worry, my hands knotted deep in my pockets. “Seriously, Vic. We’ll be okay.”

“I want to go,” I told him and hated how petulant it sounded. Part of being a good leader was knowing where I had to be, and for this mission, my place was to stand guard at the church. Unfortunately, the facts of the matter didn’t make it sting any less.

“You can’t,” he said bluntly, although his tone wasn’t unkind. “Remember all the stuff we talked about? If we want to draw this mofo out from whatever rock he’s hiding under, then you have no choice but to lay low for now. That sword is awesome, but it might as well be a damn beacon straight to your location. He might be able to use it to bypass us directly and come straight to you. That’s bad.”

“It is,” I admitted. I had trounced Lorcan way back when, but everything I heard made it sound like Delano’s power had long since eclipsed that of his former boss. The odds of a one-on-one match weren’t reliably in my favor. I was not the only god-killer on the block, which still made me a little salty.

“Plus,” Deacon continued, “we know nothing about Oxylem’s state of mind, other than Jerry’s opinion. I’ll go out on a limb and say he wasn’t the greatest source of intel. But if Oxylem is as big a wimp as Jerry claimed, he might crack as soon as he hears you’re around. The whole thing is ruined if Delano bails because he’s afraid of you punching his face in.”

I frowned. “Yeah.” As pissed as I was, it was somehow reassuring to hear that Deacon had such a solid grasp on the things we’d discussed at our last-minute meeting. He had come a long way since his induction by fire into the world of the gods. I was proud of him, and I told myself to lighten up.

“Don’t forget, Vic.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “This is your plan, and it’s a good one. We’ll infiltrate the lumber crew ranks and grow the rebellion from the inside. From there, we can see what state these people are actually in, what our prospects look like, and how many we can recruit. We dig in, expand as much as we can, and wait so we can be ready when he finally shows his ugly mug. Then we dive in and take him and Oxylem out in one fell swoop. Free the slaves, save the world, and come home safe and sound. That’s the point.”

“I know, I know.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “It’ll be dangerous.” For some dumb reason, the words, “I’m worried about you,” stuck in my throat and wouldn’t come out my mouth.

Deacon smiled. He knew what I tried to say. “None of it’s as treacherous as hanging out with you. I promise.”

I couldn’t help a low chuckle. “Touché.”

He reached down and grabbed my hand. “I’ll make you a deal. You be careful here, and I’ll be careful there, and when I get back, I’ll cash in on that rain check I took.”

I laughed a little more. A blush crept automatically toward my cheeks. “You’re on, St. Clare. I’ll have you know I take my deals very seriously.”

Deacon winked. “So do I.” He glanced around at the men who assembled near the door. “It looks like we’re about ready to go. See you soon.” He gave my hand a quick, warm squeeze, and I watched his back blend in with the rest of the group all clad in torn, dirty clothes. They had made every effort to hide their vitality from the Vikings who would shortly capture them and turn them loose in the prison camp with the others. I could still tell they were strong and healthy, but I knew to look past the surface.

My chest felt tight as I watched them march out together. I followed across the threshold and onto the top landing of the stairs. The group spread out as they hit the yard so as to not look too much like the guerilla detachment they were. Deacon’s dark, tight curls stood out to my watchful eye. I wanted to run after them.

I didn’t. Common sense and my sense of duty formed a loud, insistent chorus in the logical sector of my brain. This was no time for emotions. They had this. I had a million other things I could do. For instance, I had yet to update Luis and the others on our current situation. They’d heard that we were holed up with Smitty in an old stone church but not much more than that. Another example of my stellar leading skills.

I turned somewhat guiltily to enter the church and fetch my radio from the bedside table in my room. Luis’s company had stood by for almost two days. It was high time to get in touch again.

Chin up, Victoria! Marcus said cheerfully. Your role is no less vital on the home front.

“Thanks, man. I’m good.” I took a deep breath and shook the tension from my shoulders. “But it sucks not being on the front lines. That’s all. I wanna see the action.”

Truly the noblest of desires. Fear not! Your hunger for battle shall not go unsated if I know anything about Delano and his ilk.

“Good,” I said. “I’m dying to see him again.” I took a step toward the door, only to be halted in my tracks by a young, spunky female voice.

“What in the hell are you doing here? And why didn’t anyone tell me?”

The tone of voice, though playful, immediately got my hackles up. I was not in the mood to be sassed by anyone. I turned, and the flat annoyance on my face was replaced by a grin I couldn’t possibly suppress. “Amber!”

Her smile lit up her whole face. “Long time, no see, captain,” she said.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

We stared at each other for a minute and grinned like loons until she finally motioned for me to go inside. “Please,” she said. “Don’t let me slow you down. That’s my way of saying it’s as cold as balls out here and I’d rather not freeze my ass all the way off.”

I laughed and retreated into the sanctuary. Amber stepped in behind me and blew into her gloved hands. Her cheeks were rosy, and her eyes sparkled as brightly as ever.

In the few minutes of silence that followed, I studied her. She was tall and sinewy, and even her face seemed chiseled. This girl was clearly as tough as freaking nails. But even that kickass aura did nothing to dim the sunny smile that radiated from her features. The first thing she did was grab me in a huge bear hug.

I gasped as the wind was knocked out of my lungs. “Shit, you’re strong.”

“Hey, thanks.” The girl beamed brighter yet. “As it turns out, weeks of cruising the woods will make you into a pretty formidable beast.” She pulled back to inspect me in turn. “It’s so good to see you. You have no idea how excited I was the first time I heard Namiko say your name.”

“Aw, shucks.” My mood had lifted a thousand notches in the few minutes I’d been blessed by Amber’s company. “Where the heck have you been, anyway? I’ve bummed around this place for the last couple of days and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of you.”

“That’s because I have a job now,” Amber announced proudly. “I’m the lead scout. Eyes of the camp. It means that more often than not, I run around outside and look for important stuff, collect whatever intel happens to float around, call the Weres to the places where they’re needed, and snipe for them if I can.” She quirked an eyebrow. “That last one’s my favorite. Are you surprised?”

I shook my head, impressed. She was barely breaking out of her sheltered shell when I left Washington to return to New York. In a matter of months, she’d blossomed into a completely rad, badass flower.

“That’s one hell of a dangerous job,” I said, suddenly the adult in the room. Uncool of me? Maybe a little, but I couldn’t help it. The girl wasn’t even twenty years old.

Her grandfather was the one to come to her rescue. He strode up behind her and said, “My granddaughter’s become a rather dangerous person.” He smiled. “And we’re all better for it.”

“Good for you, old timer,” I said and gave him a thumbs-up. “It’s nice to see you loosen the reins.”

“Tell me about it,” Amber said. “He drove me nuts.”

Smitty shrugged. “She had to grow up fast, and I had to choose whether to protect her or let her survive. I chose the latter. And along the way, I’ve come to understand that a little danger can be good for the soul.”

“I’ve told you that for years, Pops,” Amber said and nudged him in the ribs.

He winked. “Stubborn as a mule, your granddad is.”

I groaned. “A little danger sure would be good for my soul right about now.”

“I wondered why you were standing outside, but I didn’t want to come right out and ask,” Amber admitted. “It seemed like it might be a touchy subject.”

I folded my arms. “Oh, it is. But it’s mostly me being dramatic, I guess. I have to lay low so those guys can go undercover and do things all stealthily. I hope they pull it off, really. But it means I have to take one for the team and park my ass on the bleachers.” I pursed my lips. “Which I hate. A lot. They’ve been gone less than ten minutes, and I can already feel myself going stir crazy.”

Amber eyed me, puzzled. “Wait, why do you have to lay low? I’ve seen you do tons of stealthy shit before. You sneaked all the way into the wolf lair.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. “It’s a guys-only field trip,” I explained. “The easiest thing to do was to get in through the lumber gangs, and those are only men.” I patted the sword on my waist ruefully. “That, and I have this thing. I’m a freaking lighthouse to the gods right now.”

“That’s lame,” said Amber, with the infinite wisdom of youth. “It doesn’t make much sense to me, either. We have plenty of women out there fighting every day and night. And you especially would be so valuable.”

“Sword,” I reminded her and pointed dramatically.

She stared at me. “Just don’t use it, Vic. That’s what you said is the real tell, right? If you don’t whip it out all over the place, you should be good to go.”

I held in my shock at her suggestion. Partially because it seemed so simple once she’d said it out loud, and partly because not using the sword struck me as similar to not using one of my limbs. The Gladius Solis hadn’t been out of my reach since I’d gotten it from Marcus, except for one ill-advised decision to leave it in the general’s safekeeping. “I mean…” I finally managed to say something. “I guess that’s true.”

Under any other circumstances, I might be ‘freaking out,’ as you are wont to say, said Marcus. I must confess, the idea of going into battle with the sword restricted still causes me anxiety. However, I also understand your need to be in the middle of things, and as I implied before, it is a need I must respect.

“It’s the blade that identifies you, isn’t it? I would think you could move undetected as long as it’s not lit up.” She glanced at her granddad. “But if you’re not sure, you can always leave it here. Pops will take good care of it.”

“On my honor.” Smitty saluted. “You’ve seen how tight we run this ship, Vic. We’re not about to spring a leak now.”

“I trust you.” I unfastened the sheath from my belt and hefted it in my hand before I passed it to him. My heart palpitated a little, but the feeling of bare panic faded quickly and was replaced by a sensation of general nakedness. My belt hadn’t felt that light in a long time. “I think it will be nice to go incognito for a while.”

“That’s the spirit,” Amber cheered. “Man, you’re so cool. I can’t wait to bring you out there.”

I had to grin again. Her enthusiasm was infectious. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, you’ll love this.” She gave Smitty a kiss on the cheek and waved as we retraced our steps out the door. I almost paused and thought of Brax, who’d also been exiled from the lumber gang mission. Then I realized that if I was recognizable, he was a neon billboard on a moonless night. Merely the sight of one of the Marked would tell any discerning Forgotten that something was hinky. I kept my mouth shut and Amber went on. “I got word about an hour ago that there’s a supply caravan moving through the forest. Naturally, I tracked it down, spent a while charting its course, and then I called my people in. They’re waiting for us as we speak, so we’d better hightail it. We’re gonna rob this thing like it’s a steam train in the Old West.”

I cracked up. “You’re ridiculous, Amber. I missed you.”

“Didn’t you?” She shot me one more huge smile before she headed toward the edge of the forest, fearless in the face of the encroaching gloom. I followed gladly. The welcome rush of adrenaline pounded through my veins.

I was so happy to be back on the hunt.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We ran for a long time before Amber showed any signs of slowing. She wasn’t a Were, but damn, the girl had stamina for days. She was like a laser beam homed in on her target location, which was a stretch of rugged forest path she clearly knew by heart. On the approach, she signaled for me to cut left as she went right and melted seamlessly into the trees. I found a good hiding spot, hunkered down, and waited for company.

The loss of their leader had not made Jerry’s soldiers more discreet. They ran up with all the grace of a herd of water buffalo and crashed single file through the woods. Most of their weapons were lit and poised to defend and threw flickering tongues of light ahead of them. I peered out from behind the cover of a giant, sturdy log and noticed that the fire Vikings weren’t alone. Humans were sprinkled in their midst and towering, bark-covered tree Goliaths trudged alongside. The human soldiers looked beaten down, hungry, and thin. They wouldn’t pose much of a threat.

Amber crept up to my position while I scanned the incoming train. “Looks good,” she whispered. “Everything’s going to plan so far. When we go in, focus on the Vikings and the trees, okay? The regular people won’t be a problem. They’re all half-starved as it is.”

Her analysis and target selection were spot-on. A tidal wave of pride swelled in my heart. “Right on,” I said. “Will everyone else come from the same side as us, or are there allies across the track? I want to know what to expect.”

Amber pointed up and down the thick underbrush lining our edge of the narrow passage. “We’re all over here. The idea is to overwhelm them in numbers, and either stamp them out or chase them away. I’d feel better if they were dead, but as long as we get what we came for, it doesn’t much matter what happens to them.”

Another more excited whisper cut into our conversation. “Amber! It’s Jayna. Am I late?” The question was followed by a slim figure which dropped into place on my other side. She looked at me with huge golden-brown eyes. “Oh shit, sorry. You’re not Amber.”

Amber suppressed a snort of laughter. “I’m right here, Jayna. That’s Vic, and she’s super cool. She’ll help us with the operation.” To me, she said, “Vic, this is Jayna. She’s newish, but she has a ton of potential.”

“I can’t wait,” Jayna whispered. She was hidden like us, but every fiber of her being practically vibrated with anticipation. “This is my first big attack. It’ll be terrifying. And so much fun!”

I bit my tongue. This kid couldn’t have been more than in her late teens, and the roundness of her face made that seem like a stretch. Her bouncy demeanor was totally at odds with the task at hand, but that was what she’d shown up to do, and if she had qualms about it, I couldn’t tell.

Jayna quieted and settling into a calmer, more intent state as the convoy drew level with us and began to rumble by. I listened for Amber’s cue.

It didn’t come until the last crate-loaded cart was past our hiding spot. She pulled a radio, pressed the button, and said, “Go time.”

An ear-splitting explosion rocked the woods. Up ahead, a whole mess of dynamited trees cascaded into the convoy’s path. The carts bumped to a halt amid a hail of colorful curses. The human soldiers swiveled in a panic and searched for the ambush they knew would come. In these parts, attacks were rarely random.

Amber leveled her trusty rifle and pulled the trigger. A swarm of Weres had already poured in from the tree line to choke the convoy and its guard. Jayna leapt from my side with a shrill howl.

I fought every instinct and stayed beside Amber, taking potshots with my own gun. My bullets made way less of an impact than hers. I was fairly sure I could count the real hits on one hand. It wasn’t a great feeling, but I pushed through it, determined to do my best. The shots continued to go wide, ricochet wildly, or occasionally, find a target in an enemy.

“I miss my sword,” I muttered, but I made a mental note to suck up my pride and maybe ask Deacon for some shooting lessons later. He’d almost certainly make fun of me, but at least I’d know how to handle myself in the future and not waste ammunition.

It was fucking hard to hit moving targets.

I fired much slower than Amber too, and in the lull between my reports, a high, fearful yelp cut through the chaos. I snapped my head in that direction and caught a glimpse of the young Were Jayna squared off with one of the mammoth trees. The monster’s branches were hooked at the ends and razor sharp. They’d make total mincemeat of a werewolf’s flesh.

“Fuck, cover me!” I shouted to Amber.

“I got you!” she answered instantly. No questions.

I waited for an opportune moment to make my break through the furious melee, and when it came, I lunged out of cover and raced across the frosted ground. A couple of fire Vikings dove toward me. I flattened as low to the ground as I could, and they crunched together at full force directly above my head. One of their flaming weapons seared a patch of skin on my shoulder and burned through my jacket before it clattered to the ground. Both the smell and the pain were completely ignored. All I saw at the end of my vision was the tree bearing down on Jayna, its branches poised for violence. She coiled to spring in its shadow, but it was easy to tell she didn’t have enough time to launch herself.

Not without help, anyway.

Less than thirty feet away from her, my view was suddenly blocked by another Viking soldier who attacked with a glowing mace. I ducked, and a bullet zinged over my burnt shoulder and buried itself right between his eyes. He dropped like a meaty sack of bricks. I vaulted over his body. The tips of the tree’s vicious branches came within inches of Jayna’s bristled fur.

“Jayna!” I hollered and slammed into the side of the tree. I hit it so hard that fiery shocks of pain rocketed through my arms and I clenched my jaw against them. “Get out of the way!”

I clawed my way up the trunk. The branches swung wildly and scrabbled to slice at me instead. The rest of my jacket tore free from my torso. It landed on top of one of the carts.

Jayna’s eyes went wide. “Vic!” she barked and sprang from her coiled stance to lash at our shared adversary.

Her mass and our combined strength rocked the tree backward and forced its branches to spread into a stabilizing formation. The beast staggered.

“Get the bark!” Jayna yelled. “It’s like armor. Get the bark!” She ripped at it furiously, and the tree screamed. Its branches pinwheeled in a desperate attempt to pry us off before she could inflict permanent damage.

Around us, the Vikings raised a cry. The leaders of the caravan lifted their weapons and shook them so the flames danced. Righteous anger burned in their eye, alongside the promise of vengeance. But the Weres refused to be deterred, and Jerry’s comrades were forced to retreat.

The tree-beasts lumbered with them in great, long strides through the woods. Jayna released the lattice of deep scars she’d made, and we stood together to make sure no one turned around. Bodies—mostly Vikings and humans—clogged the trail. Off to the side, at least one of the trees had been felled. It sprawled among its brethren, twisted and grotesque. The bark flaked off in black sheets.

Jayna looked at me, still in Were form. “Thanks,” she said. “You really helped me out there.” Her ears folded down timidly against her great lupine head. I resisted the urge to pat her muzzle.

“It’s what we’re here for,” I told her. “There’s no way I could’ve gotten to you if Amber didn’t cover my ass the whole time. Never forget, we work as a team when the fight’s on. You’ll come out fine as long as you remember that.”

I waded out of the brush and beelined for the cart with my shredded jacket draped over it. A tarp had been tied down for some added protection over the contents. I peeled it back to reveal a pile of heavy-duty crates.

“Well, well,” I mused. “What have we got here?” I wedged my fingers into a space in the slats and pried the top of the crate apart.

Christmas had come early. With a massive, shit-eating grin on my face, I peeked into all the other crates in the cart. Each one was full to the brim with assault rifles and the corresponding ammunition.

“Woohoo!” Amber whooped. I glanced down the line at her and saw she’d unearthed similar loot. “We hit the mother lode, you guys!”

“No kidding.” Carefully, I closed my crates as best I could and retied the tarp on top. The remains of my jacket adorned my shoulders as a badge of honor after a successful supply outing. “I have a feeling this stuff will come in very handy.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

We walked the convoy and its hard-won contents back to the church after hauling the bodies into the woods off the trail. Several of the carts had been damaged in the fight, so the going was slow, but the crates survived, and that was what mattered. I cringed a little as I considered how much fire had been thrown around inches away from live ammunition, but we’d all made it out in one piece. Amber practically danced the whole way home. She couldn’t wait to take inventory.

“They’re gonna be so pissed when they find out this cargo isn’t coming through,” she said gleefully.

I looked at the array of boxes. Now that they were in our hands, I could be thankful there were so many. But the sheer volume concerned me. “I’m not sure I want to know why those fuckers needed to be so well armed, though.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Amber advised. “This stuff’s ours now.” She crowbarred the nearest crate open and lifted out boxes of ammo. “Oh man, this is going to help so much.”

“Do you know where I can find the radio room?” I asked. The size of our spoils meant that sorting through it would likely take hours, and I didn’t want to get caught up in it. I’d left poor Luis hanging long enough.

“Huh?” She blinked at me and processed the question. “The radio? It’s up in the bell tower. The door to the staircase is right behind the main altar. Go straight back through the sanctuary.”

“Thanks,” I said. “Catch you later. I need to contact some people.”

She waved absently. “Good luck. The signal’s not bad up there, but it’s been a little finicky lately. I hope it doesn’t give you too much trouble.”

I took the hand radio out of my pocket as I cut through the bustle in the sanctuary. The indoor scene reminded me a lot of Fort Victory, although not quite as organized. The church’s residents sat in groups, talking, eating, and laughing together. Children chased each other across the barren floor. Outside the few windows that hadn’t been sealed to keep out the cold, I spotted Smitty’s Weres on patrol. He’d really built a good thing for himself and Amber out in this creepy forest. I was glad for them.

The tower staircase, narrow and spiraling, looked like a set piece from a gothic movie. If I stood in the center of the ground floor and tilted my head all the way back, the massive maw of the bell yawned above me, its clapper the pupil in a great, dark eye.

Quite a feat of architecture, Marcus commented. Clearly a remnant of purer times.

“Yeah,” I retorted. “Accusing random people of witchcraft and then burning them at the stake was super pure. I bet there’s a god or two who are pretty mad about that one.”

In my experience, there is little the gods are not angry about, Marcus said.

The climb up was long but not too difficult. I took the shallow steps two or three at a time. When I reached the top, the bell loomed above my head and a rope as thick as my arm dangled from the clapper. The juvenile urge to ring it as loud as possible gnawed at my insides. I actually reached for the rope, but pulled my hand back at the last minute.

“They’d probably think the world was ending,” I told myself out loud. “It’d be worse than pulling a fire alarm.”

To be fair, the world is ending, in a way, Marcus said. Not that I condone this mischief.

“If you stood here, you would’ve pulled the shit out of it,” I said and smirked. “We both know the truth.”

I reserve the right to say absolutely nothing.

I scanned the round, open chamber until I spotted the radio tucked against a low wall. It was much smaller and less elaborate than ours, but its basic interface was the same. A pair of ancient headphones, held together with tape, sat on top of the wall beside the device. I leaned beside them and raised the smaller talk-box to my face.

“Come in,” I said. “Anyone out there?” The channel was already synced with Luis. I hoped he wasn’t sleeping or distracted.

“Loud and clear,” came his response after a brief pause. “I began to think you ended up in some bizarre fourth dimension. Fill me in, chief.”

He got the lowdown on our current plan. “The long and short of it is, I’m stuck waiting,” I said. “As soon as I get word from the away team I’ll let you know where we’re headed.” I felt bad that I forced the kid to wait, but the work couldn’t be exciting all the time. “Cross your fingers that it won’t be long.”

“We’re cool,” Luis told me. “We’ve kept busy. I have a few new rides on standby when you need ʼem.”

I smiled. “Awesome. You’re the best.”

“I know,” he said. “Keep in touch, all right?”

“Will do.” I slipped the radio into my pocket and turned to the well-used headphones, put them on gingerly, and twisted the tuning dial. Twenty seconds of snow buzzed in my ears. “Come on,” I muttered. “She’s got to be around here somewhere.”

“—and remember to report everything you see, people. Collective vigilance is what keeps us alive out here. We can’t afford to let our guard down.” Namiko’s voice crackled over the air. Her cheerful tone was undercut by a deadly serious subtext.

I pressed the button. “Namiko? It’s Vic.”

“Hey! I wondered when I’d hear from you again. What’s going on where you are? Nothing too awful, I hope.”

“Actually, things have recently taken a turn for the better,” I said. “I’m in Washington with Smitty’s camp.” I gave her the most efficient version of the details and ended on our supply coup. “I’m trying not to be too concerned about what that means for the scale of the operation we’re fighting against, but the thought is there. You know how it goes.”

“Yeah.” She laughed wryly. “Yeah, I do. Anything you need from me?”

I tapped my fingers idly on the large plastic cup of the earphone. “Can you patch me through to the fort, please? I want to give the girls a status update.”

“Sure thing. I can’t guarantee the reception quality, but at least you’ll get through.”

“We’ll manage,” I said. A flurry of clicks and whirrs rushed into the earpiece. The channel dissolved into static and reformed. The next thing I heard was a chorus of two of my favorite voices.

“Hello? Vic?” I could picture Maya and Jules huddled in chairs around the clunky fort radio, their heads leaned together over the speaker. The image made me smile wider.

“Hey, you two,” I said. “I’m checking in. How are things on your end?”

“They’re good!” Maya sounded as chipper as ever, which I was happy for. I needed her spirits to be high. “We heard from Frank and Steph earlier today too if you can believe that. They said they’re on their way back.”

I arched my eyebrows. “Really? I wonder what they found.”

“Beats me,” Maya said. “You know Steph. She’s not much of a talker.”

“Even to you?” I asked.

“What?” Maya frowned. “I think we exchanged a total of three sentences.”

I shook my head. “Never mind.”

“I don’t get it,” Maya said. “Anyway, supplies are stable. We’re eating well. It’s as cold as hell every night now, so preserving food is way less of a problem for the moment.”

“Everyone’s still happy for the most part,” Jules added. “They’ve asked about you a couple times. I think the general consensus is that the fort is safest when you’re here. But Veronica hasn’t mentioned major unrest, and so far, there haven’t been any riots. We’re locked into the idea of wintering here.”

I nodded. “There’s bound to be some cabin fever, especially as the weather freezes over. I had some itchy feet myself before I left. But as long as they’re all committed to ensuring the safety of the group, I think we’ll come out the other side fine.”

“If no one gets sick,” Maya pointed out. “V and I are in the process of arranging another pharmacy run. I’d like to stock up on everything we can before cold and flu season hits. Germs will spread like the damn devil in here.”

“Good idea.” I sat down on the wall. “It sounds like you guys are all kicking serious butt back there. I’m proud of you.”

“What about in Washington?” Jules asked. “Is everyone okay?” A subtle note of urgency rang in the question. I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew whom she was most curious about.

“Yeah,” I replied, a little teasingly. “Smitty and Amber are amazing. You should see the outfit they’re running here. It’s in a church.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s great!” Jules tried hard to disguise the disappointment in her words. I felt a pang of guilt. “A church might creep me out at night, though. It sounds spooky.”

“Brax is okay too,” I told her. “He even smiled a few times yesterday.” I conveniently left out the violent reason why.

“Wow,” said Jules. “That’s unusual.” Even over the distance and the shoddy signal, which grew worse by the second, I knew she was flustered. The blush almost registered on the radio readout. She said something else after that, but it cut out after the first syllable.

Namiko replaced her in the headphones. “Things are starting to break up,” she said. The sentence crackled. “We’ve got to go.”

“Hey.” Jules came in one more time. “Can you tell—” The static overtook the last part of her sentence. She paused and tried again. “Tell—” Again, nothing but snow followed.

I smiled slightly, and on the off chance that she could still hear me, I said, “Okay, I’ll tell Brax you want to go to prom with him.” An incoherent snippet of her voice popped through the noise. It sounded like she might be yelling. Then the channel cut out completely. I chuckled, removed the headset carefully, and stepped away from it to walk to the other side of the chamber and enjoy the view. A thin, cold mist blanketed the trees in soft gray. This high up, my eyes traced the scars left in the land by Oxylem and the Vikings. Evidence of the fires stood out despite the fog.

Oxylem has committed grave atrocities out of fear, Marcus mused. But I still feel sadness for the way he must have suffered at his own hand. I have no doubt the remorse described by Jerry was genuine.

It was hard to wrap my brain around the idea of a god shedding tears as he worked to destroy the land he loved. The more it stuck in my head, the less I wanted to think about it. I took a deep breath of the crisp, wild air and focused my eyes far out on the murky horizon. Tiny droplets of condensed water clung to my skin and clothes. “What a gorgeous place,” I said. “But kind of damp, though.”

“I hate it,” someone grunted at my back. “Give me dry heat any day. I don’t care if it’s a hundred and twenty degrees in the shade.” Brax propped himself up in the corner to my left.

“I figured you’d hate that kind of weather more than this,” I said. “Because of Asphodel.”

“I’m not saying I love it,” he answered. “But it’s easier to tolerate than this. It feels like I’m soaked all the time.” He stared out at the view. “Nice country, I guess. I mean the part that doesn’t have all the fucked-up trees.”

I swallowed my smile. “Right.” He fell silent and held his trademark tough-guy pose. Droplets beaded on his glasses and he eventually took them off and scowled as he stuck them into a pocket. I made sure not to stare at his naked face. “Hey, Brax, can I ask you a question? You don’t have to answer, but I’ve wondered about it.”

“What?” he asked flatly. He was obviously not thrilled, but he didn’t say no.

“Laurel’s baby,” I began, somewhat hesitantly. “Why’d you save her?”

“We already talked about this,” he answered gruffly but didn’t look at me.

“Not really,” I said. “You told me you were reminded of something, and that was it. I know there must be a story there.”

“And let me guess, you want to hear it?” He glanced my way expectantly.

“Only if you want to tell it,” I said as gently as I thought he’d allow.

For a few moments, the demon said nothing. Then he shuffled his way over to a place where he could sit and heaved a sigh. “You humans get fixated on the weirdest shit,” he told me. “All right. Whatever. Here you go.”

Chapter Thirty

I didn’t join Brax right away. He was clearly out of his comfort zone, and I wanted to give him his space. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and studied his clasped hands. Whenever his black eyes caught the light, they sparkled slightly, like multifaceted jewels.

“I don’t know how long ago it was.” He spoke after a long period of solemn contemplation. “Phoenician empire, maybe. It would’ve been ancient times for your kind. You were only learning how to write and all that shit.” He chuckled to himself. “Anyway, it barely matters. Once upon a time, let’s say, I got out of Asphodel and they couldn’t catch me. Whether they forgot, or they decided to not give a shit, or they were so mad their damn heads exploded, I don’t care. All I know is, I was out for a long time.”

“Got it,” I said.

He nodded. “In the beginning, it was impossible to enjoy freedom, even though I loved it. The feeling of going anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted, with no one looking over my shoulder? There’s nothing like it in this world or the next. But I was a fugitive, and I was never sure who lurked around the next corner. I was paranoid.” His dark gaze flicked to me. “I had to be. If Kronin had sent anyone to chase my sorry ass down, I knew exactly who he would have chosen.” He paused to give me a sharp look. “Would you sit down? You’re making me fucking nervous standing there.”

“Sorry,” I said. He shifted to make a space for me, and I took it.

Brax resumed his story. “The guy’s name was Belen. I called him Bell End later, which he did not appreciate.”

That is extremely disrespectful, Marcus cut in. Belen was not the head of a phallus.

“If you haven’t guessed, he filled the same spot as your invisible buddy, only years before. I wish I could say he loved Kronin less, but I think he might’ve loved him more. He was a real zealot. And a real asshole.” Brax rubbed his jaw and his brow furrowed at the memory.

This slander is heinous, but I shall bear it to hear the demon’s tale.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he clarified. “Belen was good at the things that made him valuable to Kronin. He was supremely confident, shrewd, and strong in battle and in mind. What he lacked was integrity. He’d skin me alive as soon as he’d throw me back into Asphodel if he was given the opportunity to choose. Hell, I’m sure he wanted to. Kronin had to keep him on a tight leash, or else he’d be ruthless.”

I listened for Marcus’s commentary. This time, the centurion stayed quiet. “You stayed away from him,” I said.

Brax shrugged. “He never showed up. I spent years constantly on the lookout and expected to see his smug, sneering face bear down on me at any second. It never happened, and the longer time went on, the more I relaxed. I let myself think I’d finally done it, and I gave myself permission to roam freely over the world. Or as freely as possible, anyway. I still wasn’t able to interact with humans, on account of all this.” He made a vague motion that encompassed his blatantly demonic features. “And I couldn’t risk stirring up trouble, so I drifted along in the margins of society and tried to ignore the void I felt. I was weak.”

“You were lonely,” I suggested

He knit his brows. “Same thing. I didn’t think I’d want any sort of companionship after the way I was treated in Asphodel. It hit me hard.” He hesitated. “And then one day, I was hiking through the mountains on another one of my long walks to nowhere, and I heard this terrible scream straight out of hell. To this day, I can’t say why, but I went to investigate. I found this woman cornered by a mountain lion. This was back when they were huge, and they had giant fangs.”

“Saber teeth,” I said.

“Yeah, close enough to it anyway. She was about three seconds from getting ripped apart. I jumped in and got torn up instead.” He grimaced. “It was a stupid thing to do. She didn’t have a scratch on her, but I was hurt. She said she couldn’t leave me like that. And she took me in.”

“What was her name?” Of all the things Brax might have told me, a love story was the thing I least expected. He looked ready to staunchly deny any hint of romance or soft feelings, but I could not be fooled.

“Elissa,” he said. “A widow with children to care for alone. As repayment for her kindness, I took up residence on her small farm and tended to her flocks and raised her children in her late husband’s stead. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t grow to enjoy it. She was a warm, compassionate soul. All her little ones were bright and curious. Gentle things, those kids. We might have remained that way for a long time—the rest of their lives. It’s impossible to know.

“Belen didn’t stay away forever. When he finally showed himself on Elissa’s land, it was to say that he had observed me, watched, and waited for a weakness to reveal itself. He patiently allowed me to form bonds with the fragile humans I came to know, and then he struck. I was ordered to comply with his every demand or see the whole region burned to the ground.” Brax’s face was a stone mask. “All he asked was that I give myself up and return to Asphodel. That was all he had permission to ask. If Kronin’s authority hadn’t tied his hands, he might have killed them regardless, simply to punish me. That’s the kind of man he was, deep down.

“I’ve never hated anything more than I hated Belen at that moment. But I did what he said because I wanted Elissa and her children to be safe. As far as I know, he honored his end of the bargain, but that’s another thing lost. My next escape was far too late. She was gone from this world, as were all traces of her family line. Belen remained. And so did I.”

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m sorry, Brax.”

I, too, must offer as sincere an apology as I am able. I had no knowledge of the details of these events. Had I truly understood their gravity, perhaps I would have acted with more sensitivity. I am sorry, Abraxzael, for the cruelty of my predecessor. Belen was not a perfect man.

“It hardly seems worth fretting over now,” said Brax in response to my empathy, “but I appreciate the sentiment.” He moved his hand to his coat pocket, and I figured he would put his glasses back on. Instead, he withdrew a slip of paper, which he handed to me. “You wanted to know what your friend gave me. Take a look.”

I unfurled the sheet. It was a poem written in Jules’s precise handwriting, about a beautiful girl and the “rough” man who saved her. It was sweet. Underneath the verses, Jules had noted, Mediterranean region, twelfth century BC?

“Where does she find this stuff?” I folded the paper and returned it to him.

He shrugged. “It is a kinder gift than any I’ve received in thousands of years. Maybe the kindest gift of my lifetime.” He gazed thoughtfully at the trees. “I believed what Belen said that day for all the years to follow, that caring for others is a weakness. I still want to believe it today. Things are easier with an unmoored heart.”

“I used to think so, too,” I told him. “Then I got thrown into this batshit crazy mess, and I learned it’s exactly the opposite. Think about how fucking badass you looked, saving that family. Think about how they’ll always remember what you did for them. You’re building a legacy, Brax, with every incredible, selfless thing you do.”

He mulled that over quietly.

“It’s not a weakness,” I emphasized. “We both know you’re the furthest thing from weak. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s why you keep jailbreaking Asphodel like it’s nothing. You care, and it makes you stronger.”

He remained silent, lost in thought.

“She asked about you over the radio,” I said.

Brax grunted. “Good for her.”

I smirked. “Okay. I wanted to let you know.”

A beat passed. Then he asked, “She’s doing well?”

“Yeah.” I patted him on the shoulder. “She’s doing really well.”

Chapter Thirty-One

We didn’t come down from the bell tower wreathed in the sunshine and rainbows of best friendship, but Brax and I rejoined our team with a new, deeper understanding of each other. I was grateful that he’d displayed enough trust in me to open up and be vulnerable for the first time in countless ages. For his part, he had lost some of his permanently sullen aura. Although he didn’t say so, I was sure he liked to know that Jules was thinking about him.

And the small blessings continued to pile up. Given our track record for such things, I half-expected to descend to some type of chaos in the church. Another fire or the roof caving in. What we found was a slew of soldiers doing a painstaking inspection of the equipment from the caravan. The one in charge had a clipboard in her hand on which she recorded notes about every individual weapon.

“You look busy,” I said to her. “I told Amber she could call me if she needed help.”

The soldier laughed. “Oh, she ran off to do some more espionage a while ago. Besides, this isn’t hard work, merely tedious. We’re used to this kind of thing.”

I glanced around for Smitty and didn’t see him either. “Well, we might as well make ourselves useful.” Brax and I stationed ourselves at an available crate and sifted through boxes of bullets. My mind still reeled a little from the demon’s tale but gradually settled into the comfortable humdrum of menial tasks. I got into a rhythm—pick up a box, note the brand, number, and type of bullets, repeat. If there wasn’t anything on the packaging, I made my best guess. Neither one of us talked, but we didn’t feel the need to. Brax had already said more words than I’d ever heard out of his mouth.

The dull tranquility of the afternoon shattered as the doors to the church flew open and banged against the stone walls. Smitty’s white Were form hurtled across the threshold toward me. The ridge between his shoulders was raised, every hair on end. Dark streaks of blood matted his fur.

“Come quickly!” he roared, and his voice echoed through the sanctuary. “Amber’s in danger. She’s been taken.”

Brax and I both leapt to our feet. “What the fuck?” I spouted incredulously.

Smitty was fairly frothing at the mouth. “She was far behind enemy lines, deeper than she’s been before. Lord knows what the girl heard to make her go that way, but she was ambushed in the trees. That fool Oxylem has her strung up somewhere.”

“He’s soft-hearted, but he’s not stupid,” Brax said. “Oxylem has eyes everywhere. It’d be more surprising if he didn’t know about her by now.”

“My granddaughter is in mortal danger,” Smitty bellowed. “Her radio broadcasted for a while after the attack. I heard the son of a bitch castigating her for using wolves against him and turning ‘nature against nature’ or some cockamamie shit. He sentenced her to a public execution.” The blacksmith’s wild gaze rolled from face to face. “Please. We can’t leave her to die. She’s all the family I have left.”

“Okay.” I grabbed one of his massive paws in both my hands. “Just breathe for a minute. Clear your head so you can think rationally. Amber needs that from you. We’ll figure this out.”

Smitty huffed and shook himself vigorously. “If they kill her…” he growled.

“They won’t,” I said. “I refuse to let that happen.”

Victoria, wait a moment. If we abandon our current plan to attack Delano’s forces in search of Amber, we run a great risk of alerting him to our presence, thus destroying our entire objective. I need not remind you what is at stake here. Delano’s machinations have spread across the world.

“We need to do something, Vic,” Smitty urged. “Now! I won’t gamble with Amber’s life.”

I looked at Brax. His glasses were firmly in place and his face had become the blank canvas I was used to—except that his fists were clenched and his jaw was set. He knew the stakes as well as I did. Our goals, I was sure, were essentially the same. And yet, it was painfully obvious what he wanted to do.

He had sacrificed himself for a woman he cared about once. Now, he was willing to do it again. Maybe not so much for his own sake as for Smitty’s, but still. The guy deserved credit.

“It’s a trap,” he said and made eye contact with me. “She walked into it. He’s using her as bait to goad us into attacking.”

“Delano might be there already,” I said. “He might’ve been there all along and simply bided his time until we made a mistake.”

“This is not Amber’s fault,” Smitty snapped. “She did nothing she hasn’t done a hundred times before.” His harsh, beast voice had cracks in it. Tears glistened in his fierce eyes. “They got lucky this once, and I’ll make them pay.”

“We might be walking to the slaughter,” Brax told him. “There’s no telling what’s waiting for us when we get to wherever Oxylem wants us to go. We can’t act like this is a predictable situation. He’s not in his right mind.”

Smitty blew up. “None of that matters to me, boy! Don’t you understand? Those monsters have my little girl in their filthy clutches, and—” He swallowed hard. “And—”

“No, I understand,” the demon said quietly. “We will bring her back safe and sound. I promise you. That said, I feel it would be irresponsible to rush in without acknowledging that the whole situation is designed to ensnare us. We have to be ready for anything.”

One by one, they all turned to me. A soldier came up and tapped me on the shoulder. “You’ll need this,” she said and handed me the Gladius Solis in its sheath. I placed it back on my belt. The comfort of its solid weight made me feel more powerful already.

“He wants us to come after him?” I asked Brax. “Do you feel strongly about this?”

“Absolutely,” he answered. “He could have caught her innumerable times before this moment. As clever and quick as she is, she’s no match for a god. This was orchestrated, either by Oxylem himself or by someone pulling the strings.”

Smitty turned to me and bowed his grizzled head. “Please, Vic,” he pleaded. “I trust you to make the decision, but it has to be made now. Amber adores you. I know she believes you’re gonna come get her. Please don’t let her down.”

I looked into his eyes and around at the huddle that had formed while we debated. “You heard these guys,” I said and lifted my sword. “Let’s give Oxylem what he fucking wants. For Amber!”

“For Amber!” they echoed. The sanctuary drowned in warlike howls as the Weres transformed for battle and swarmed toward the exit after their white-furred leader. They poured down the staircase and loped in the direction of the black, thorny trees. Right at their furry heels, Brax and I kept pace and brought up the rear with flaming hammer and burning sword. Once again, the ashes of our plans lay trampled beneath our feet.

This time, I wasn’t that upset about it.

“You want some, Delano?” I muttered. “Then how about you come and fucking get it?”

Chapter Thirty-Two

We determined quickly that it would be best for me to go in alone at first. Other than a general idea of where we’d find it, no one had any real details about the gods’ base of operations. I was the one with the god-killing sword, so I took point. Only Marcus was with me as I headed down the uneven track toward the heart of the forest.

“I will be pissed if we find out they set up another slaughterhouse-type deal,” I said. “That place still haunts my dreams.”

It should hold a special place in your heart, Marcus said, with the same inflection as a proud parent. That was your first major proving ground.

“You always put the weirdest spin on things,” I told him as I shook my head. The trees closed in tighter with every step until I felt like I pushed my way through a loosely knit blanket of dead sticks and leaves. I hacked through it with a regular machete from the church. Yeah, I was on my way to use the hell out of my huge, glowing sword, but there was no point in blowing it early. If I had a chance at the element of surprise, I wanted to seize it.

Inspiration is an art, Marcus declared. And I am a master.

A wooden barrier snapped and crunched in front of me as I struck it. A hole opened, and I was blasted with a current of cold, wet air. I lined my fist up with the opening and punched outward with all my might. The dense wall caved in, and I stepped through into a new path, much wider and cleaner. The walls on either side of this passage were crude but deliberate in design, made of what looked to be the same dark, corrupted wood that filled the woods around me.

I whistled softly. “They were harvesting trees for material? Damn. Smitty said these used to be humans.”

Not always humans, but living creatures of flesh and bone, yes. Now they are… He trailed off, unwilling or unable to voice the thought.

“Yeah,” I said. “This shit’s fucked.”

At the end of the long, dark passage, a massive wall jutted up into the darkness. Some of the boards on the outside were so fresh, I could smell the cut wood as I approached. Rudimentary parapets lined the top. Through the gaps, I discerned the shapes of waiting soldiers. Others ran back and forth along the elevated footpath, apparently still slapping the fortification together. Wooden planks clattered into place, followed by the bang of hammers.

“I guess we’re a little early,” I said. “Let’s see if they could use a hand in there.”

They appear to be reinforcing the outer wall, Marcus observed. It would seem they consider an invasion to be imminent.

I chuckled. “They’re not wrong. I’m basically a one-woman invasion, wouldn’t you say? And there will be hell to pay once Smitty gets through.”

When I reached the end of the path, I slowed my pace. The wall’s construction had obviously been hurried. The boards and planks were often rough and unaligned. I spotted a plethora of potential handholds dotting the wooden surface. They were full of potential splinters and bristled with nails, but they’d do.

“That’s it,” I announced. “We’re going over. On my mark.” I dropped into a sprinter’s starting stance. “Three… two… one!” My whole body shot forward, powered by nectar, adrenaline, and grit. I was on the wall and scaled that thing like an angry lizard before the guards up top began to shout about an intruder.

“Too late, assholes,” I muttered and pushed myself to climb faster. Gunshots peppered the air over my head. A bullet slammed into the wood two inches from my right hand, gouged a trough down the wall, and spattered sawdust into my eyes. I squinted and pressed on.

The muzzle flashes, which started as pinpricks in the vertical distance, rapidly grew larger. I clawed from perch to perch and dodged hails of bullets. The gunmen never missed by very much. One or two shots grazed me to leave thin trickles of blood. The skin of my palms had split from hastily grabbing un-sanded ledges. I paid no attention to any of that.

I was too focused on the serious ass I intended to kick once I reached the top. I’d never been more pumped for a fight than I was at that moment. Maybe it was the exhilaration of throwing our plans to the wind. Maybe it was because I knew Amber was there somewhere and waited for us to find her.

Or maybe I was merely sick of this shit.

Whatever the reason for the extra energy that coursed through my veins, I vaulted up onto the top of the wall like a human hurricane and sliced burning arcs through the air with my sword. The men directly in front didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in Hell. Their bodies tumbled toward the ground in pieces before they could even yell for backup.

The others lunged to knock me down, but months of Marcus’s meticulous training had given me incredible balance. I nimbly sidestepped the chaotic assault, cut through one, and sent the other after his doomed companion with a well-placed boot to the back. Then, I bolted along the wall in search of a way in.

At first glance, there wasn’t much to help me. The base itself stood way back against a legion of yet more trees, but I was separated from it by a barren, burned-out expanse. Stumps and tree husks littered the ground. In some places, the gray ash looked deep and pooled in impressions left by countless feet. More workers hunched on the inside of the wall, building up its strength. They were men like the tree gangs, and like the gangs, most were desperately thin. It was no surprise that Delano and his cronies were big on slave labor.

Another bullet whizzed past my ear. I glanced over my shoulder long enough to glimpse more guards rushing toward my position. They seemed unsettled as if they didn’t want to fight so far off the ground and were afraid of falling. But their faces also showed the same determination I had, the same fierce loyalty. Too bad they’d chosen the wrong side.

Watch out, Victoria!

Marcus’s warning refocused my attention ahead, and I saw that the surface I ran on dipped down into the well of a parapet in fifteen feet. I stopped abruptly and spun to face my pursuers. Behind them, the whole nearest section of the wall now stood empty. They’d consolidated a whole section of their force to confront me.

I grinned. Big mistake.

The leader of the pack had changed from a frightened young soldier to a tall, slender man whose eyes burned with an eerily recognizable unearthly light. He was the first vamp I’d seen in quite a while with that kind of strength, and he was hungry.

His lips peeled back to reveal the vicious points of his fangs, and he launched into a blur. I stood firm, my blade out. Seconds later, the vamp was on me. He was stronger than any of the stragglers I had battled since leaving New York, and we grappled back and forth. No words were exchanged, only a few choice snarls. The skin on his gaunt face was so pale I could see a map of veins and arteries on his cheeks. He gripped my arms like a vise and tried to toss me off the side. The Gladius Solis wavered between us.

His movements were rigid and almost clumsy as he tried to avoid the sword so close to his flesh. I waited for his balance to shift and jerked my knee into his stomach. He buckled with a cry of pain, and I threw all my weight to the right. When the vamp scrabbled to keep his hold on my forearm, I simply cut his hand off. I pried the clutching, disembodied fingers from my sleeve and flung it to the rest of the soldiers who had formed a line to block the way forward.

“Who’s next?” I asked.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The vamp guard’s men were brave enough to step forward even after they’d seen the first of their squad plunge to his death, but they weren’t good enough to survive. I dispatched every one of them as neatly as possible, sheathed my sword, and stepped into the parapet among scattered bloodstains and dispersing ash.

The vamp presence there became more and more apparent. A sure sign, I thought, that Delano must be somewhere around. The vamps, after all, had been his first inheritance from Lorcan.

I crouched in the shadow of the wall and studied the burned field keenly. The bulk of the distant forest was obscured by a horribly ugly building, a brutal, mashed-together conglomerate made almost entirely of massive hunks of wood. Jagged angles jutted out all over and gave the place a cruel, primitive air. Hospitality had not been a concern during its construction, that much was certain.

The other thing that caught my attention was the sheer number of enemies who rambled around down there. They were doing something and rushed around like evil little ants. Most looked like humans or fire Vikings, but some towered over the rest and moved with lanky, long-limbed grace. These tall ones had thick, dark skin that covered most of their bodies, and the greater their height, the slower they moved.

“What the hell am I looking at?” I asked aloud.

Giants, Marcus said. The oldest of Oxylem’s followers. Perhaps the last remnants of his former glory. They, too, have fallen to dark influence, it seems.

A commotion had broken out far back at the edge of the woods, where ranks of marching people now emerged. In the very front, a fire soldier walked stiffly with hundreds of lumber slaves at his back. A cacophony of jeers enveloped me on every side and erased all other sounds. The effect was suffocating as if I’d shut myself into a slowly shrinking box. Harsh laughter scraped at my ears. Weapons were lifted and shaken, as well as fists.

But the pandemonium stopped as abruptly as it had started. There was something wrong with the scene that unfolded. The fire Viking had moved close enough for spectators to realize that his hands were bound tightly behind his back and manacles were clamped around his ankles. Some of the woodsmen had chains too, but theirs were broken.

A rift appeared near the middle of the crowd and advanced rapidly toward the front line. I identified Brax’s sturdy, unflinching stride before he reached the trapped soldier and pushed him squarely between the shoulder blades. The man stumbled. The demon gripped his upper arm, and I watched him drag his quarry toward the middle of the cleared plain.

Nobody jeered now. All the personnel in or near the wall, even the ones who could get to Brax, stood frozen and simply stared. I wondered why they didn’t attack.

A voice rang out from the foot of the wall. “This is madness!” It was the voice of an elderly man, the kind that creaks and groans with every syllable. A lone figure broke away from the wall with a small crew at his heels. He stopped halfway to Brax and turned back toward me for a moment.

Marcus drew in a breath. Oxylem?

I frowned. “I thought someone said he was young.” The god in front of me was ancient, shriveled, and drooped visibly. Hair that might once have been a brilliant shade of gold hung limply around his drawn, ashen face with the quality of tarnished brass. Dark circles and lines marred his crumpled skin. A strong wind might have blown him over.

He was young, Marcus said quietly. He has always been the epitome of beauty and youth. This? I do not know what to say.

“It looks like the price of evil is pretty damn steep,” I remarked. “I’m surprised he’s still hanging in there.”

It is a tragic situation, said Marcus. But it is also clear to me that nothing more can be done, regardless of who he used to be. His path has been chosen, along with his fate.

I adjusted my grip on the Gladius Solis. “That sounds like you’ve given me the go-ahead to kill him. And I’m merely letting you know that I won’t argue if that’s the case.”

Wait. Let us allow this scenario to play out first. I am sure Abraxzael has engineered things this way for a reason.

I smirked. “Look at you, suddenly keeping the demon faith. I’m proud of you.” But I left my sword bladeless and kept my eyes on Brax. He showed no indication of being affected in any way by Oxylem’s words. He hadn’t even removed his glasses. “How the fuck does he still have those?” At the very least, I would’ve assumed they’d get knocked off his face by now.

The Marked work in mysterious ways.

Oxylem’s voice raised again and carried over the battered field. “Madness!” he repeated. “Do you not remember what happened the last time you tried to resist? Your accursed people died by the thousands. What makes you think they will not do so again?” The god looked at everyone assembled, his withered features fixed in a mask of stony resignation. “There is no light. There is no hope. It was the werewolves who began this futile struggle, then abandoned it in the throes of cowardice. Let them be the ones to end it, not you.”

Brax didn’t move a muscle except to open his mouth. “If you insist,” was all he said.

At that precise moment, the trees behind Oxylem’s brutish fort sent up their distinctive, chilling howl. The god fidgeted where he stood, apparently startled. I couldn’t keep the grin off my face as Smitty and his forces barreled out of the woods, more of them than I’d ever seen in one place. The Weres were monstrous tanks of muscle and claw and tooth. Their raw, wild energy colored the atmosphere and churned the air. Most of the guards and soldiers drew away from them instinctually. They rose in silence behind Smitty, angry and not to be fucked with.

I loved them so much.

For the third time, Oxylem turned toward me and directed his eyes at what I assumed was a gate in the wall. He motioned with his hand, and two more guards marched out with a human strung between them. She writhed and kicked, and her hair flashed with every movement.

“That has to be Amber,” I muttered.

Yes, Marcus affirmed. And make no mistake, Oxylem is no longer the soft soul he once was. She is far from safe.

She was dropped at the god’s feet where she lay on her side, her arms and legs bound. He didn’t touch her, but he did raise a wooden spear and pointed the tip directly at her heart. “I will only say this once,” he proclaimed. His voice was heavy but firm. “Stand down immediately, or this young creature will die before your eyes.” His tone softened slightly. “Take solace in the fact that she will make a beautiful tree, a thousand-year monument to the chaos you have wrought.”

He lifted his narrow chin as his fingers tightened on the haft of the spear. Amber squirmed. The spear inched closer to her.

“Well, beasts?” Oxylem prompted. “Time runs short.”

Brax and Smitty were statues in front of the slaves they had freed. As frantic as he had been earlier, the old blacksmith’s composure remained hard as a rock. They looked at each other, and Smitty nodded. I held my breath.

The demon forced the Viking soldier to his knees and crushed his skull with one decisive blow. In response, Oxylem jerked his spear back and prepared to plunge it into Amber’s heart.

Strike now! Marcus commanded.

In a fraction of a second, I lit my blade and thrust it from me. The sword swept downward and blazed toward the back of Oxylem’s shoulder. It struck beneath the joint. His arm, relieved of its attachment to the rest of his body, spun off at an angle. The god collapsed into the anxious arms of his men, and the sword arced to return to me and severed her bonds in the process. As the ropes fell onto the charred ground, the feisty Amber clambered to her feet and dashed toward her grandfather’s fearsome ranks. The werewolves surged forward to meet her.

The Gladius Solis returned to my hand in time to be brandished at the swarms of guards that angled directly toward me.

I smiled. The battle was officially on.

Chapter Thirty-Four

They hit me like a tidal wave as their hands grabbed and feet kicked. I planted my feet down hard and lashed out with the sword again and again. The ambient light of the blade lit their faces, and I saw more vamps among them. Fighting those guys gave me a weird sense of nostalgia for the early New York days and all the trouble I got into following Rocco Durant around the seediest parts of town. These slimeballs probably had no idea who he was.

The guards on the wall were fast and strong, but they weren’t particularly suited for hand-to-hand combat in such close quarters. I had innumerable opportunities to shove them off the edge, and I used every chance I got. The swinging arcs of my blade made short work of their fleshy bodies. One idiot actually attempted to grab its cutting edge with his gloved hand, as if the thin material would be enough to save him. He screamed when his hand was instantly vaporized by the heat.

“Really, dude?” I asked prior to running him through the gut. He died with an expression of pained confusion frozen onto his face.

As my opponents fell, I looked to the left and right and gauged the number of new challengers. The wall, which had been sparsely populated a second ago, now crawled with a zillion soldiers all after my blood. Gunfire picked up again in earnest, and I took that as my cue to reach lower ground. I dropped from the floor of the parapet, swung across the face of the wall, and landed on my feet inside, thirty yards from the gate through which Oxylem had been dragged.

“Shit,” I said. “This might not have been the best idea.”

An even greater number of enemies clogged the field and formed a seething, impenetrable barrier. The wall rattled from a hundred impacts as Smitty’s Weres leapt over the top in pursuit of screeching guards. Viking weapons battered at me from all angles except the very back, and flames seared my face.

“Yep. Bad idea,” I said. The sword parried a volley of strikes and sliced through hammers, axes, and burly Viking arms. Drops of their vital fire splashed across the ground, but it was so dead already that the flames didn’t catch.

Go toward the gate, Marcus urged. It may provide you with the most reliable means of escape.

“That’s the plan,” I said. No way could I ever fight my way out of a mess this big. With every step, more bodies crushed around me like a living tomb. When they tried to circle to my back, I thrust the sword out and spun, which spattered me with blood, Viking embers, and vamp ash. I kept my lips tightly closed lest any of that gross shit get in my mouth. The thought alone made me want to puke.

“Get her,” someone roared and injected new vigor into the bloodthirsty mob. Suddenly, it seemed like the hands that grasped for purchase on my clothes and body had doubled in number. Luckily, I had become very good at cutting them off.

For every soldier who fell away, five more appeared and charged at me in a frenzy. This army was like a thousand hydras. I could feel the nectar working overtime to push me through. “Man, this will hurt in the morning,” I said. “Is there a massage therapist on call at the church?”

My back hit something that rattled and gave and a latticework of wooden stakes pressed against my spine. Finally, the gate. I stared into the murderous faces of a dozen beasts who thought they were inches from killing me, smiled, and aimed the sword in a new direction.

The lock shattered on contact and allowed the gate panel to swing open. I stood motionless in the flood of furious Weres and freed slaves that poured through. My attackers were swept away in a stampede of rifle fire and ferocious mauling.

Brax brought up the rear and caught me by the shoulder. “It looked a little hairy for a minute there,” he remarked with a grin. “Good thing I came to save you.”

I rolled my eyes, even though he was more right than usual. “I still can’t believe you managed to hide all those guns on your person.” I glanced at the woodsmen shooting with wild abandon into the teeming mass of soldiers. “I think they’re enjoying them.”

“Who wouldn’t?” Brax asked. He was as close to outright cheerful as I’d ever seen him. “I’m like that Christmas demon who eats all the shitty kids.” Mid-sentence, he brought the head of his hammer down on the head of an incredibly unfortunate vamp who approached from the side. He swung the weapon under and launched the fresh corpse into the brawl forcibly enough to send more sprawling. “I don’t even have to try.” He had a satisfied smile on his face before he loped away again to prove the point by beating a path through the violence.

I dove in headfirst, eager for a bigger slice of the action. The Viking weapons had torn the field up, and freezing muck coated everything from the shins down. I drew the warmth and energy of the Gladius Solis into my body and whirled through the battle. The vamps and woodsmen were cut down in droves. They mingled with the ashes already strewn across the mud.

Vikings were a slightly bigger problem, both in stature and strategy. For once, the general wetness of the day helped as it prohibited torrents of fire-blood from spreading. The brutes could pack one hell of a wallop, but it was hard for their slow asses to catch me as I literally ran circles around them. The sword’s unbreakable rope trick came in handy. I left them bundled into bales in my wake. They were easy prey for kill-hungry Weres after that.

Still, the numbers remained damn high on both sides. I’d caught my second wind, but I began to wonder how long the onslaught would continue and if it was really endless. The confusion only increased as everyone was covered in more dirt and mud. A few isolated blazes sprang up and caused a haze of smoke to descend upon us. Despite these difficult conditions, the fight continued to rage.

I worked my way back toward the outskirts and remained vigilant for any familiar faces. I’d long since lost sight of both Smitty and Brax, and there was one face I had yet to see at all. The concern pushed at me, so I climbed the wall once more. Up top, I hacked through challenger after challenger and almost didn’t notice a hand that fell on my arm. When I did, I nearly cut it off. Then I looked up and saw the man it was attached to.

“There you are,” Deacon said, slightly out of breath. “Please don’t chop off my body parts. I need them more than ever right now.” He wielded a gigantic ax lifted off one of the Vikings. It wasn’t on fire, but it made him look hot as all hell.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly. “On the plus side, ‘sexy lumberjack’ is a great look for you. All you’re missing is the hipster beard. And the flannel.”

“Yeah?” He stroked his chin. “I think I might have missed my calling on the west coast. Maybe I should stay. Drink a lot of artisanal coffee and get some glasses with no lenses in ʼem.”

I laughed and reveled in the feeling of having him back at my side. But the joy of our reunion was interrupted by a shrill cry of an alarm. We shared a glance and broke into a dead run toward the top of the wall. What we saw caused a stone to grow in the pit of my stomach. Hundreds more soldiers, on foot and armed, rushed into the clash from the woods outside the gate.

“That son of a bitch,” I griped. “How many troops does he have?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Deacon said calmly. “Look close. They’re all from the lumber gangs. The enemy will get stomped.”

That was the instant I noticed something else that rolled in from the trees on the heels of Oxylem’s surprise contingent. “They’re not the only ones,” I said.

Luis drove at the helm of a platoon of vehicles, each carrying a squadron of mobile gunners. The trucks split into two wings at the gate and flanked the sides of the fortification.

“Check that kid out,” I told Deacon proudly. “All those lessons have paid off.”

He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “They grow up so fast.” He turned as the first of the trucks opened fire. “I think we’ve got things covered here. I hate to see you go, but someone has to take care of Oxylem, and we all know who that will be.”

“It’s okay.” I squeezed his shoulder. “At least you’ll have the pleasure of watching me leave.”

Deacon winked. “I do love that.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

I climbed down the wall and dropped the last few feet. The moment I touched down, I searched for anything that might clue me into Oxylem’s whereabouts. He had been pulled this way by his lackeys, I knew that for sure, but it was hard to pick up their trail with the dirt all chewed up from fighting. Simple shit like footprints was out of the question. I dropped low to the ground and scanned the detritus for anything I could link to the god.

At face value, it seemed like a hopeless task. The whole area surrounding Oxylem’s base had transformed into a war zone. In his current debilitated condition, how could I know which blood was his or which sticks were broken by his escape? No doubt, his crew would be gone by now—something told me he wouldn’t run for his life with an entourage.

Refusing to be defeated in my search for the tree god, I headed in the same direction in which Luis had sent a faction of his vehicles—around the side. I had a hunch that a wall this rushed couldn’t possibly enclose the entire area, and about fifty yards into the thick woods off to the right, I found what I was looking for. In their mad rush to fend off the army they knew was coming, Oxylem’s men hadn’t built a complete circle.

That or the trucks had busted through a weak point. I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. The important thing was that I could now wind back across the battlefield toward the second thatch of forest behind the building. I was willing to stake my life that he hid there among the last tragic dregs of all he hadn’t been able to save.

The trees weren’t as dense alongside the battlefield as they had been elsewhere. The rampant clearcutting had extended into these tracts of forest and left sizable gaps. I had a good view of the ongoing fight on my way past. The tide seemed to turn in our favor. Oxylem’s men, severely weakened, were falling back.

But his men didn’t matter to me as much as the god himself. I couldn’t let that half-wilted bastard slip through my fingers. I did my best to keep a low profile and avoid being drawn into the battle that still raged and increased my pace. Focused now, I raced toward the back of the hideous fortress. A lapse in tree coverage forced me to dart through the open, the sword hilt tucked safely out of sight, but I was soon immersed in the trees once more. The sounds of war grew muffled behind me.

After a moment, I slowed. It was easy to be surprised while running, and it was as easy for tunnel vision to set in. The god could be anywhere, so I had to stay vigilant.

I wound around a bend and reached the edge of a small clearing in which pale, blurred figures moved about. The noises that reached my ears weren’t even close to human, merely growls and screams. I drew the Gladius Solis and stole up to the edge of the trees for a better look. As I did, a different scream pierced the hush of the woods. This one was much, much closer to what I was used to. Someone was trapped.

I ran in, poised to strike, and stopped dead in my tracks. Oxylem cowered amid a pack of creatures I’d never seen before and attempted weakly to fend them off. His clothes were tattered, and shreds of material lay where the beasts had torn them and let them fall. Bruises bloomed on his grayish skin. His eyes locked on to mine, filled to the brim with panic. The creatures noticed his gaze and turned curiously to see what had barged in on their little party.

“What the fuck is this nonsense?” I asked.

The translucent, waxy skin, the bloodshot eyes, and the protruding fangs told me these things were vampires, but they had virtually nothing in common with the vamps back east or the ones in the rest of the compound. They were beefier, although they moved with a grace that implied speed, and the gnashing teeth in their mouths were huge and fearsome—the kind of mandibles that would rip out an entire esophagus, no problem. Their heavy lower jaws protruded, which might have been a little funny if I wasn’t so sure they could kill the shit out of me.

The closest one faced me and hissed through its teeth. Flecks of foamy saliva flung from its mouth. Its shoulders raised, and a pair of disturbingly muscular, flesh-toned wings unfurled. Each of the five long fingers on its hands ended in a ragged claw.

To top it all off, they had tails. Pointy, barbed tails lashed around their feet like snakes.

“This is wrong,” I said. “Everything about this is wrong. What the hell happened to them?”

Your guess is as good as mine, Marcus said. His voice carried a hint of revulsion. For now, I suggest you save your concern for what is about to happen to you.

The freak vamps circled like vultures closing in on a carcass. Nothing remotely resembling language passed through their throats, but they watched me with sharp, unsettling intelligence.

I did a quick headcount. “Eight,” I said. “Cool. This is gonna be interesting.”

The vamps I had gotten to know and love were fond of mobbing and overwhelmed through numbers. It was a technique I learned to embrace because their enthusiasm only served to make my job easier. In stark contrast, these new guys were in no hurry to attack. They remained at a distance, observing and calculating. I could sense the gears turning in their heads.

What they were thinking, I could only guess.

My knowledge of these monstrosities is nonexistent, Marcus warned. I will do my best to be of technical assistance, but we have ventured into truly unknown territory, perhaps for the first time.

I shrugged. “It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

Whenever I spoke, the neo-vamps watched my mouth move. They had completely abandoned their original target. Oxylem shivered, reluctant to move. He said nothing.

“What?” I looked at each of the monsters. “Now that I’m here, you’ll make me wait? Let’s get this over with.” I paused to really absorb their appearance. “Holy shit, you guys are ugly. I’ve seen week-old roadkill with more charm.”

My brazen insults worked. The trio in the front raised their hackles and displayed even more of their impressive dentistry. I assumed a fighting stance as their grotesque bodies coiled low for a spring.

Three of them released at the same time and flew directly at me. The angle made them appear huge, and I barely spun out of the way in time. One of them caught my poor, embattled jacket on those nasty claws and left a good-sized rend in the fabric.

I danced to the left. “Good thing distress is in style.”

Their next strikes glanced off the burning blade of my sword, and they hissed in pain from the blisters on their skin. That brought some satisfaction, but I noticed that the other five had gradually tightened the circumference of their circle. They hunted me the same way pack animals hunted prey. If I slipped up too badly, I was done for.

Prioritize your targets, said Marcus. Focus on individuals instead of the group at large. It is the only way to keep from becoming overwhelmed. Take a deep breath. You can do this.

The medallion warmed against my sternum. It made me smile.

“I learned from the best,” I said. I set my sights on the central vamp and got down to business. It backed up in preparation for another attack. I didn’t dare close the distance myself. That would leave me vulnerable on either side. Instead, I hung back and exercised patience in an effort to draw out the aggression. A striking enemy, I had discovered through much trial and error, was more likely to make a mistake.

But that didn’t happen. The vamps peppered me with manageable but more or less constant blows designed to wear me down, make me tired, and force me to slip. They obviously wanted to rip me open right then and there, but instincts—and possibly training—told them to take the slow and steady route. It was infinitely more frustrating. I matched them to the best of my ability until I couldn’t take it anymore. I was unscathed, and this was a waste of time. Oxylem now crept toward the perimeter of the clearing.

I could not afford to lose him.

“Can we maybe speed this up a little?” I asked the vamps. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

They didn’t care. All they wanted was to continue their obnoxious pattern until I gave them the chance to incapacitate me. I’d seen it dozens of times on nature programs in the days when I still had tv. The crucial difference was that the prey in those shows didn’t have swords. I’d used mine for defense long enough.

It was time to switch to an offensive play.

The next volley proceeded as usual. I fended the vamps on the sides off with a deft hand and turned fluidly to block each of their attempts. The one in the center leapt at me, braced for the blade, and expected to be knocked back. This time, I hooked the sword under and jabbed at the vamp’s unguarded abdomen. With the move, I risked a brutal eyeful of claws. Their very tips scratched along my cheekbone, but the pain was such a shock that it caused the vamp to curl up by reflex. It screeched, and I twisted the blade.

In lieu of ash, a torrent of thick, blackened blood spurted from the wound. I made a face. “What the hell kind of vamp doesn’t turn to dust when it dies?” The only answer I received was in the form of a lethal tail that whipped toward my face. “Oh, shit!” The sword sliced it neatly in half. More blood fountained out. The orphaned tip twitched on the ground. “Gross.”

I looked at the vamp, who had slid off the end of the blade. Its hands opened and closed, and the eyes dulled rapidly. When it finally died, the others stood motionless as if in shock for a long moment.

Then they all sought vengeance at once.

This was the fight I’d wanted all along. The Gladius Solis had an amazing reach when I was crowded. Some of them left the ground to hover awkwardly directly above my head as they slashed downward at my face and eyes. I ducked, aimed, and sliced a wing. That vamp crashed to the ground and knocked against another as it fell. I ran them through while they stumbled to regain their footing. As I straightened, I slashed a third out of the air. The severed wing dropped into the mud and its former owner shrieked.

The vamps became less intimidating with their foolproof strategy in shambles. But that didn’t make them physically weaker. Whatever Delano had done to cook these hybrids up was way more effective than feeding them human blood alone. They couldn’t be outfoxed, backed into a corner, or turned on one another. They thought fast and acted faster. They communicated and worked as a team. I had to pick each of them off, one by one, and not allow them to rally. At the end of seven out of eight, I was bloodied, tired, and madder than a fight had ever made me.

“I don’t have fucking time for this!” I shouted at the last vamp. “Just die already, you sack of shit.” It lifted off clumsily and hooked around to try for a divebomb. “Oh, come on!”

I tracked it through the air, and when it reared back to swoop down, I ran forward, jumped, and dragged it down by its leg. It thrashed for freedom and gashed my arm badly, but I hardly noticed. I severed its head, dropped the carcass, and looked for Oxylem. I expected him to be gone, but the weirdo lurked a few feet into the trees and simply watched me.

He fled the moment he realized the last vamp was dead.

“Damn it to hell!” I burst out. “Get back here, you shitfaced creep.” He didn’t stop, so I gave chase and cursed the whole way.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The woods ended without much warning on a bald, rocky shore that sloped down to the gray ocean. Oxylem was still a good way ahead and hurried to a dinghy moored on the water. He had a hell of a time untying the ropes with a single arm, but he was lucky. I was too shocked by the rest of the scene to pay attention to what he did.

The god and the dinghy were dwarfed by the massive ships that moored offshore, shrouded in the fog. They took up the entire view for as far as I could see and filled the sky with rigging, masts, and sails. Each smooth, dark-wood hull gleamed, even in the dull light. I stared, dumbstruck by the enormity of the fleet—and the realization that we’d found the reason for that massive lumberyard operation. The grain of the wood reminded me of skin in a weird way that made my stomach turn.

Victoria! Oxylem is trying to escape.

I snapped back to the moment and jogged along the shore. Choppy waves lapped restlessly at the bottom of the much smaller boat. Oxylem had the end of the hitching rope in his hand, the knot half undone. Tiny green buds sprouted from the stump under his shoulder.

“That’s a neat little party trick,” I called and pointed to the regrowth. “I bet it’s gotten you out of a whole bunch of scrapes. It won’t get you out of this one.”

He whirled and promptly lost his balance and fell to his knees in the cold surf. I ambled up to him and placed the tip of the sword beneath his chin. Oxylem’s lip trembled.

“Please don’t,” he whimpered and reached his hand toward me. He still held the boat’s rope in shaking fingers. “Please let me go.” His watery blue eyes swam with tears. “I have to go.”

“Uh-uh.” I shook my head. “I decide who goes where because I’m the one with the blade and both my arms. You’ll stay put until you tell me everything that’s going on here.”

Oxylem blinked. A few of the tears, huge and crystalline, spilled over onto his sallow cheeks. “He forced me,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “All of it. He forced me to do everything. All those—” His voice cracked, and he choked up. “All those trees. All that ugliness. I didn’t want to!” The god clenched his fist. A bout of near-hysteria washed over him. “Of course I didn’t want to. They were my friends!”

“But you did,” I said. “Why?”

Oxylem was weeping now. “I had no choice. You don’t understand. You’re a human. You could never understand.”

I moved the sword closer to his skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “Try me,” I told him. “I might surprise you.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “I have to leave. If he finds me here, he’ll kill me.” His eyes rolled in their sockets as he tried to look around without moving his head.

“I could kill you, too,” I reminded him. “And I’ve already found you here. Not him.”

A frigid chuckle sounded behind me. “I would think twice about that if I were you.”

I whipped around and brought my sword up. It wasn’t enough. One strong blow knocked me aside. It wasn’t enough to send me sprawling, but the breath left my lungs.

I regained my footing on the rocks and raised my head.

“Delano?” I asked.

“Hello, darling.” Lorcan’s Apprenti stood before me, a far cry from the slender, pale-eyed man I remembered. He was glorious now in a terrible way, beautiful and cruel. Black wings adorned his shoulders and arched over a sharp, dark suit. The back half of his body was constantly wreathed in shifting shadows, and when he lifted his hand to brush an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve, I noticed that delicate scales now covered his skin. He examined Oxylem through cat’s eyes, the pupils little more than diamond slits.

The tree god shrank down, away from Delano’s reach. But the Apprenti moved with feline speed, seized him by the neck, and lifted him like a ragdoll. Delano’s jaw unhinged and consumed the entirety of Oxylem’s face.

I wanted to stop him but my whole body was frozen to the spot, paralyzed by horror. Marcus’s silence filled my ears.

Delano unlatched from Oxylem’s body and tossed the dry husk into the waves. It was nothing more than a hunk of driftwood now. We both watched it bob out to sea. The seconds passed like hours. My mind had gone numb.

“Look at me,” Delano said. “Quickly, before it’s over.”

Without thinking, I did as he asked. His long dark hair shimmered into golden laurels, the way Oxylem’s must have been before he lost himself.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Delano twined a lock around his finger and smiled fondly. “He was always a lovely boy, but he would never have survived. He was too sweet. Too gentle. Too unwilling to fight.” His smile turned into a mirthless chuckle. “I forced him to grow up because I knew he couldn’t. And after he inevitably failed, I would be able to take his essence as my own.”

Something clicked in my head, and I gasped. “You’re stealing their power,” I said. “This is why you’re killing the gods.”

“Why else?” he asked as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Their only usefulness to me comes in the form of what I can take from them. I am a vessel, my darling. They are the waters of tribute.” He gazed pensively at the ships. “It took you a long time to find these, you know. I was worried that perhaps you had lost some of the razor’s edge that had brought you so far. I admit I underestimated you, for here you are after all—the only thing in this horrid world that has yet to disappoint me.” He glanced at me and raised an eyebrow. “That said, if you wanted to know my grand plan so much, all you needed to do was ask.” He laughed, the sound simultaneously menacing and musical.

“Spill it, then,” I said crossly. The shock had slowly worn off, and the remnants of my patience were dangerously thin.

“They were for my army,” he said simply. “Hyrrik’s abundance of manpower combined with Oxylem’s resources produced magnificent results.” He beamed at the ships in the manner of a proud parent. “They are perfect. Exquisite. I planned to load them up and send them to the Asian coastline. Not a single god has managed to gain and keep a foothold on that whole continent. There is no opposition. My following would have swelled by the millions. From there, on to the seat of the world.”

“Yeah, screw that,” I said. “I’ll burn every last one of these ships.”

Delano laughed again, utterly nonplussed. “Do as you please,” he said serenely. “You’re a fool if you think this is my only plan. Indeed, it is but one of many. And every day, my power grows. No mere human can dream of stopping me.” His roving eyes settled on me and cut through to my core the way they had that first time at the slaughterhouse. “Darling Vic. I wonder what you’ll taste like.”

I suppressed a disgusted shudder. “The only thing you’ll taste is this sword.”

Delano smiled indulgently. “Yes. Soon enough.”

I scowled. That wasn’t the kind of response I’d hoped for. He didn’t give me the chance to reply. The great wings on his back beat up a whirlwind, and in the next instant, he was gone, had risen out of sight into the murky sky.

“Fuck that guy,” I said and rubbed my hands over my eyes. “Shit.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I sat down on the damp rock and didn’t care that my ass was soaked in less than a minute. Dry asses were for winners, and I had let Delano escape.

The ocean lapped at the smooth edge of the shore and tugged at Oxylem’s abandoned boat. Having nothing else to do, I retied the rope to the best of my ability. Someone in this community probably had some use for it. Maybe Smitty could use it to fish or something.

My head still reeled from Delano, from seeing what he had turned into and hearing the extent of his plans for the future. I had trouble wrapping my mind around the reality that he consumed other gods and condensed them into…what? I sure as hell didn’t know, and neither did Marcus.

I have never seen anything like this, the centurion admitted. And although I am not sure what we could do in opposition, I feel that we should remain here for a while to guard against his return. At least then, we could attempt to issue a warning.

“Yeah,” I said absently. I was simply grateful for the quiet and the solitude. It was the kind of tranquility I hadn’t truly experienced since we’d arrived at Fort Victory. It felt amazing to lean back on my hands, close my eyes, and decompress to the sound of the sea. The salt breeze cleansed my tension, and I embraced it.

Besides, I knew it wouldn’t be long before the others looked for me. The Weres followed their noses toward the briny scent of the water and found the shoreline first. The rest of our forces followed. Luis’s trucks rolled across the rocks and pulled into a neat line facing Delano’s abandoned fleet. I glanced over my shoulder to see him and Deacon get out of one of the vehicles.

“Hey, Vic.” Luis gave me a one-armed hug. “Man, I’m glad to see you.” He studied the ships, his brow furrowed. “What the hell is this crap? Are we going to be pirates?”

I smirked. “No, matey. This was meant to be an armada, but we took down the soldiers meant to fill those ships. And possibly, we saved all of Asia in the process.”

“Aw, yeah.” Luis high-fived me. “That’s how we roll in this gang.” He stopped short. “Uh, this club. We’re a club.”

Deacon burst out laughing. “Like hell, we’re a damn club.” He turned to me and slipped an arm around my waist. “Tell me what we’re doing with these things. I’m sure you have some ideas.”

I shrugged. “Not really. I figure we can take them apart and use all the lumber for something else. Houses, maybe. It’d free up some space in the church.”

“I bet you could get some of those big tree-looking homies to help,” Luis suggested. “The giant ones, you know? Like real-ass trees. We had a damn field day trying to pick them off, but many them surrendered after the fight anyway ʼcause I guess they didn’t want to die. I think that jackass brainwashed them.”

“They do look like they could break down some ships, don’t they?” I asked. “I’ll run it by Smitty when I see him.” I craned my neck over Deacon’s shoulder and searched for the blacksmith’s white head. He stood and took stock of the empty ships with Brax on one side and Amber on the other. She beamed with her whole face as usual. Nothing could keep that girl down for long, not even being kidnapped and almost killed by a god.

We drove back to the church in the trucks. During the ride, Deacon dressed the cut on my arm and I filled them in on the Delano front as much as I could. “Things don’t look good for the rest of the world right now,” I concluded. “We need to figure out a way to stop him, or else he will take over.”

“I’m still stuck on the fact that you saw him eat a dude,” Luis said.

I ran my good hand through my hair. “Me too, honestly. I didn’t know gods could get even more powerful than they already were. We’ll have to come up with some serious innovations.”

“We’ll do it,” he said and flashed me a cheesy grin in the rearview mirror. “He can keep sticking parts on all he likes. He can’t make himself invincible.”

He may get close, Marcus said. But the brave young man is correct. True invincibility has eluded the gods forever. Its achievement would be a feat far beyond Delano’s current power.

“That simply means he won’t quit anytime soon,” I said. “But neither will we. Wherever that shithead turns up, we’ll be there too.”

Luis gave a thumbs-up. “That’s the spirit, chief. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life, it’s that no one runs forever.”

The first thing I did when I got back was to go to the bell tower and try the radio. As I fiddled with the dial, a transmission from Namiko came through. “Anyone there at White Wolf Point?” she asked. “I have a message to relay from Fort Victory.”

“Oh, hey,” I said. “I was trying to get through.”

“You sound tired, Vic. Maya wanted me to let you know that Frank and Steph got back to the fort earlier today.”

“Nice!” I sat up straighter. “Did she say whether they found anything?”

“Apparently, there’s news,” Namiko replied. “I don’t know what it is. According to Maya, it’s too risky to transmit over the air.”

I sighed and smiled. “Ahh, I should have known. Thanks, Namiko. It sounds like it’s time for us to hit the road back home.” I paused. “By the way, I like the name you picked for this place.”

“It was either that or Smitty’s Cove,” she said. “Safe travels. Let me know when you’re back east.”

I went down the stairs with a full mind, so distracted that I almost bowled into a certain FBI agent coming up. “Just the woman I wanted to see,” he said with a smile.

“Steph and Frank are back,” I told him. “They have sensitive news. We have to get back to the fort ASAP.”

“Is that what you look so worried about?” he asked as he smoothed a lock of my hair back. “We’ll handle that when it comes. Right now, there’s something else we need to discuss.”

I raised my eyebrows. “There is?”

“Sure is.” He started to back me up the steps again. “I have a rain check I’d like to cash.”

I was laughing when he leaned over and pressed his lips to mine and pulled me close against his body. Without hesitation, I wrapped my arms around his neck and savored the sensation. We lingered in that intimate space after it was over, then he kissed me once more and murmured, “Gotta make up for lost time.”

I nuzzled his neck tenderly. “You ready to head home, St. Clare?”

He held me a little tighter. “As long as you’re there,” he said, “I’ll go anywhere.”

Epilogue

Heat was practically a foreign entity on Joel’s skin after so many days spent trekking through the blasted wilderness, but damn, it felt good. He’d lost track of how long it had been since he and Gina left civilization behind—a week, maybe? Ten days? It didn’t really matter. They were tired, starved, and cold to the bone. To be inside an actual building felt like a religious experience.

“Holy shit,” Gina whispered. “I can’t believe we made it.” She’d bundled up in a thick woolen blanket after they went through Intake, and the color returned to her lips. Slowly, she squeezed his hand.

“Yeah.” He looked around at the room they walked through. “Why’s it so empty in here, though? This place looked huge on the outside.” In fact, the fortress’ stern, militant façade had been incredibly intimidating to approach—under kinder circumstances, he might have urged Gina to keep moving. They’d been greeted by armed guards, to say nothing of the snipers in the tower at the gate. He had thought for sure that they would be shot.

But they were welcomed instead. On the inside, he smelled something that made his stomach gurgle painfully. Gina caught a whiff of it too. She tugged on his sleeve. “Let’s go see if we can get some of whatever that is,” she said. “I could literally eat anything right now.” She followed the scent toward a hallway on the left.

“What if they’re cooking all the new people?” he asked with a slight grin. It was a joke, mostly, but it would explain why there hadn’t been a line a mile long to get into the place.

Gina poked him in the ribs. “Don’t be morbid. Everyone we’ve met so far has been super nice.”

“We’ve met like three guards. And they all had guns.” Joel didn’t want to be the guy who looked a gift fort in the mouth, but he’d seen enough slasher and doomsday films to be aware of the potential consequences.

Gina, for her part, was adamant. “I’d be more worried if they didn’t,” she told him. “Chill out, Joel. Don’t get lost in your own head. We haven’t died in the middle of nowhere, and that’s good enough for me right now.”

“Okay, okay.” He shrugged and allowed her to lead him farther down the corridor. Light glowed from the crack beneath the double doors at the end. As they approached, one of the doors opened a crack, enough to allow a woman to slip out. She stopped when she saw the two newcomers. A big smile spread across her face. Her thick red hair was piled on top of her head.

“Welcome,” she said and stepped forward to shake their hands. “The guys told me we had some new arrivals.” She studied them quickly. “I’m Veronica. And you look as hungry as hell if I do say so myself.”

“Yes,” Gina said immediately.

The woman laughed. “Well, that’s a problem we can fix. Come on in, but try to keep quiet. Vic’s about to give a speech, I think.”

“Vic?” Joel furrowed his brow. “I think I’ve heard that name before.”

“Damn right you have,” said the redhead, her hand on the door. “She’s fought her ass off since the beginning. It’s about time word started to get around.”

Gina gasped. “She’s the one who cleared New York! I heard she saved a ton of refugees.”

“She sure did. So you want to meet them?” The woman pushed the door open to reveal the crowded mess hall beyond. It was full to the gills, and every eye was turned toward the front.

“Wait,” said Joel. “Vic’s a girl?” He promptly received an elbow in the ribs. “Hey, ouch! I didn’t know.”

Veronica shushed him. “Food line’s up there,” she said quietly and pointed. “But you’ll want to hear this.”

“Is that really her?” Gina’s eyes were wide.

“In the flesh,” Veronica confirmed. She ushered them in. “Go on. “

Joel kept walking, his gaze now riveted to the front of the room along with everyone else’s. A woman stood there with a microphone in hand and looked at the crowd. She was almost tall, her green eyes framed by dark hair pulled back into a careless ponytail. The clothes she wore were clean, but she had bandages on her face and wrapped around her right arm. She seemed totally unfazed by the attention focused on her like a laser, probably because a working cell phone was an oddity at this point, let alone any kind of camera. Her speech would likely go unrecorded.

After she started talking, Joel thought that was a shame. He stopped filling his plate to watch her, and he noticed Gina did the same. The woman spoke with strong, fiery confidence, her eyes full of conviction. She turned every now and then to capture each onlooker with her captivating gaze.

“From this point on, there will be no more battles and no more skirmishes,” she declared. “We are through scrapping in streets and alleys or building barricades to defend our homes. I have had the privilege to witness the strength of humanity firsthand, in New York and across the country. I’ve learned that people will rise if they are given an example. They will mold themselves in the image of those whom they admire, and they will fight like hell for ideals they believe in and rights they deserve.” She paused and glanced at the rapt audience. “It’s time for us to make that happen. Rise up. Fight like hell. Kill Delano and win the war.”

The cheer that went up around Joel was thunderous. For days afterward, it echoed in his ears.

Author Notes

December 17, 2018

I’m ST Branton, silent partner on the Forgotten Gods series. Normally Chris and Lee keep me locked in the dungeon, hands tied to the typewriter (they ARE good friends, thanks for asking). But they let me out for special occasions.

And this is a special occasion.

While you’ve been reading Haunted by the Gods (how about that Vic Stratton, huh? Isn’t she great? If only she’d come here and use that sword on these chains…), I’ve been hard at work on the epic conclusion to the Forgotten Gods saga.

And I’m almost finished.

That’s right! Forgotten Gods Book 8 will soon be upon us, and I’ve gotta say, it’s a doozie. It’s got some sadness, plenty of sweetness, and a whole heck of a lot of action. I think you’re going to like it.

So if you’ve got friends as good as my pals Chris and Lee, this might be a great chance to recommend Forgotten Gods to them. Or you could head on over to Amazon or Good Reads and leave a review. And while you’re at it, write to congress and ask them about investigating the plight of authors chained in basements (kidding Lee!).

For Kronin!

STB

Gods Remembered

The Forgotten Gods Series Book 8

Prologue

The road he walked was shrouded in shadows. Ahead of him, the dark temple loomed against a malevolent, churning sky. With every step, the cries of the damned rang louder in his ears and every breath filled his nostrils with the stench of burning hair and flesh. Death surrounded him.

He welcomed it like the embrace of an old friend.

The man’s hands hung at his sides and his fingertips dripped viscous scarlet. Whatever color his skin had been, it was of no consequence now. All that mattered was the crimson wash of blood that marked his trail toward the temple. He liked the way it felt as it pooled in the crevices of his palms and stiffened around his knuckles. The subtle sensations made everything real. He bowed his head slightly and a smile crept across his downturned face.

The front of the temple stood open to the acrid air. Great, soaring pillars lined the way to the elevated throne perched atop a flight of bone-white stairs. He could already see the lone figure that waited, slender and pale. A cloak of shadows wreathed the man’s shoulders as he stood before the throne and his eyes pierced even through their darkness. His lip curled as the bloody figure approached the base of the steps and began to climb.

Perfect, round drops of blood anointed the stairway. The pilgrim crested the landing and bowed. “It is done, my lord.” The words, though softly spoken, resounded through the structure.

The thin, curling smile widened. “Truly a noble sacrifice,” said the lean figure. “But we both know there is one last thing to do.” He withdrew one hand from behind his back, a knife clutched in his fingers. “Commit all to me and be reborn.”

The pilgrim’s breath caught in his throat—from exhilaration rather than fear. How long he had waited for such a glorious privilege? How hard he had toiled? How much blood he had shed?

So much blood.

The hand that held the dagger waited expectantly. He could feel the cloaked man’s gaze upon him. He reached up and grasped the blade. At last, the time had come.

The pilgrim raised the knife to his breast and plunged it deep. More blood, fresh and warm, gushed over him. His hands sank deep into the wound and when they emerged, they held his own still-beating heart. He presented it to his venerated lord, both arms outstretched in total supplication.

Then, he collapsed. His body was nothing but a shell, an empty vessel and the remnant of his mortal life. Coldness spread as color leaked from the world that faded around him. He had wondered for a long time what it might be like to die, to face the end of all existence.

Now, he smiled as he slipped across some invisible threshold. He had been so very wrong. There was no end there.

No. This was, in fact, the grandest of beginnings.

Chapter One

“I still can’t believe you did that,” Deacon said and shook his head. He walked toward me from the middle of the field outside Fort Victory, which we’d transformed into the world’s least impressive shooting range. Fifty yards behind him, two bloated pumpkins and an arrangement of equally sorry-looking gourds adorned some tree stumps that protruded from the untended grass.

“What?” I asked and kicked at a clod of dirt. “I’m a damn decent public speaker these days if I do say so myself. Maybe I saw our big, messed-up family all gathered together in the cafeteria and the spirit of oration simply struck me out of the blue. ‘Give me your huddled masses, yearning to breathe free,’ and all that. Refugees are what inspiration is made of. I think it went well.”

I was joking, but that wasn’t too far from the truth. The enduring spirit of our ragtag band of brothers and sisters had filled me with hope and inspiration. That, and it was simply damn good to be home.

Of course, Delano’s shadow still loomed large over the new world order we constantly tried to cobble together out of mud and army rations. I felt like I needed to imbue my people with something that would keep them going. We all knew times would be tough for a while.

Deacon checked his gun. “Hey, I’m not knocking it,” he said. “Badass, sexy Wonder Woman looks great on you.” He leveled the pistol and looked down the sights.

I laughed. “You would be into Wonder Woman,” I said.

He looked warily at me from the corner of his eye. “I’m afraid to ask what that means.”

I punched him gently in the arm. “It means you have a giant boner for justice.”

Deacon grinned. “Among other things.”

“I walked into that one.” I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Will you teach me how to shoot or not?” As much as I feigned annoyance, I couldn’t keep the smile off my face and he knew it.

“The best way to teach,” he said philosophically, “is by example. Observe.” He drew in a breath, adjusted his stance, and squared his shoulders. On the exhale, he squeezed the trigger six times in rapid succession. Fifty yards away, pumpkin flesh erupted in thick orange ribbons. Seed shrapnel pummeled the ground around the stump. “There.” He turned to me. “See? Easy as pie.”

“Says the FBI agent with years of formal training,” I retorted. “I guess it doesn’t look so difficult.” He cleared the gun, then handed it to me. I retrieved a full mag from my pocket and swapped it for the one Deacon had used. He watched me click it into place and rack the slide.

“So far, so good,” he said. “Now, remember. It’s all about focus. You have to be able to work with the weapon instead of against it.”

A familiar sentiment, but it wasn’t the same. I felt like I brandished a movie prop. “Are we sure I can’t simply use my sword?” I grumbled.

“The world was never saved by a lousy shot,” Deacon quipped. “And you, gorgeous, are among the lousiest.”

I frowned at him. “Take that back, St. Clare.” I was willing to admit that my firearm skills needed work, but ‘the lousiest’ seemed like a stretch.

He smirked. “Make me.” That said, he moved around behind me as I aimed the gun at my bulbous orange target. “Clear your mind. Focus everything down to one point—the point of entry. Don’t tense up like that. Keep your shoulders loose.” He moved my arm a little. “There. Breathe in, breathe out, and fire.”

I tried to mimic everything I’d seen him do a minute earlier, but it felt all wrong. The gun might as well have been a toy in my hands. I missed the reassuring weight of the Gladius Solis and clean heft of its swing. Given the choice, I’d pick that damn blade every day of my life.

Still, the man had offered to teach me to shoot, and I wouldn’t turn down any opportunity to be alone with him. Plus, things were quiet at the moment in the wake of our adventure out west. We had returned to a routine of team meetings, mess hall meals, and daily patrols. If I didn’t do something, I’d run the risk of going stir crazy as I had before.

I sucked in my breath and as I exhaled, my trigger finger squeezed. The pistol jumped, and the smallest sliver of my pumpkin rocketed off into space.

“That counts,” I said to Deacon. “I hit it. You saw that.” I lowered the gun so I could point to the millimeter of exposed orange pumpkin meat.

“I don’t know,” he said doubtfully. “I think that’s what we in the business like to call a technicality.”

“Ugh.” I scowled at the weapon. “You guys in the business can shove it up your asses.” I raised the weapon once more and I took another shot. This second attempt went shamefully wide, even to my eyes. The bullet zinged off into the open sky.

“And that,” said Deacon as he shifted my arm once more, “is why we practice in an open field in the middle of nowhere.” He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed gently. “Give it one more try.”

I groaned but did as he suggested. The third bullet zipped over the pumpkin’s stem and left its broad face completely undisturbed. Behind me, Deacon tried not to laugh. He succeeded—mostly.

I popped the magazine out and tossed it into the grass. Somehow, I resisted the urge to chuck the gun after it and placed it carefully on the ground beside me instead. “Fuck this shit!” The pistol had no sooner left my grip than I had my trusty sword in hand. I uttered a warrior’s shout as I threw it in a forward arc. The blade stuck neatly, dead center in the target’s body.

Deacon nodded and arched his eyebrows. “There we go. That’s not bad at all.”

“Can your stupid bullets do this?” I asked. On cue, the Gladius Solis sailed back to me, trailing its impaled cargo behind. I caught it and shook the pumpkin carcass off with a flourish. The juice sizzled off the surface of the blade. It smelled vaguely roasted and rotten.

“Show off,” he said affectionately. “You get points for style and points for precision, but that’s it.”

I sauntered in closer. “What about points for being a badass, sexy Wonder Woman?” The sword went back to my belt.

Deacon grabbed my waist. “None of that makes you a better shot,” he said.

I put my hand over my heart and pretended he’d wounded me. “Ouch. And they say romance is dead.”

“Truth hurts, beautiful. I don’t make the rules.” He chuckled and leaned down to touch his forehead to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and lifted onto my toes. Our lips were inches apart when the coarse squawk of the radio on my chest killed the mood.

“Hey, guys.” Luis’s voice crackled over the channel. “You gotta get back in here—like, right now.”

I pulled away from Deacon and thumbed the button. “Now?” I repeated. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” the kid replied. “Your friends from DC are here. They want to spill the beans.”

Deacon and I looked at each other and set off for the main building. I took Marcus’s medallion from my pocket and slipped the chain over my head. “Roger that,” I told Luis. “We’re on our way.”

Chapter Two

Deacon and I were the last to arrive at the fort’s only real conference area. Everyone else had already grouped around the long, glossy table. I shut the door as we entered and made a mental tally of faces. Steph and Frank stood amid the usual suspects and I couldn’t help but notice how closely they’d positioned themselves.

Then I had to do a double-take at Frank because damn, the man looked great. He was still not my type, but he was now a far cry from the corpulent, downtrodden gangster I had once loved to hate. He’d trimmed down a ton, and without the dead weight and the dark circles, there was a certain silver-screen charm about his rough features.

“Steph.” Deacon moved forward and enveloped his ex-partner in a hug. “It’s as good as hell to see you.”

She gave him a half smile. “And you, St. Clare. I hope you weren’t worried. You of all people know how hard it is to get rid of me.” They shared a chuckle. Over Steph’s shoulder, Frank caught my eye and I had to pretend I hadn’t stared at him.

He grinned. “Did ya miss me, Vic? By the look on your face, I’d almost think you were happy to see me.”

“Don’t read too much into it, Frank,” I said. “I’m only glad you’re back in off the streets.”

Shortly thereafter, I called the meeting to order. “Let’s get this ball rolling. We have a lot of information to exchange.”

“How were things out west?” Steph asked. “We received snippets from Maya, but not too much. DC is a disaster. It’s difficult to get communications in or out.”

I drummed my fingers on the tabletop and glanced at the circle of faces. “Well, we flew out, we killed some gods, and we found Delano.”

“No shit?” Frank asked. He frowned almost regretfully. “We caught wind of his name a few times too. I haven’t seen that son of a bitch since…” He made a general motion at his vampy appearance. “You know.”

“It turns out he’s been pretty freaking busy,” I said. “The dude’s on a rampage, killing gods and absorbing their powers. He’s becoming some kind of bizarre amalgamation of every god he’s managed to defeat.” I recalled the image of Delano’s long black hair turning gold as Oxylem’s lifeless body drifted away on the tide.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” Maya said. “Does it hurt him at all?”

I shook my head. “I wish, but it’s the other way around. He gets stronger every time he does it.”

Steph piped up again. “But you still kicked his ass, right?”

“We didn’t fight,” I said. “I don’t think he wanted to, for whatever reason. He arrived, then screwed off, and we came back here.”

“Damn,” she said. “He sounds like a guy who could use a good thrashing.”

“Speaking of screwin’ off, where the hell is Brax?” Frank asked and swiveled his head to look around the room.

“Yeah.” I snuck a look at Jules, who refused to return it. “He’s in the wind as usual. He split right after we touched down on the east coast. Said he had something he needed to do, but I sure as hell don’t know what that is.”

Perhaps it is for the best that the demon remains absent, Marcus suggested. He may be somewhat reformed, but I maintain that his most prevalent talent is to attract trouble of all kinds.

I laughed. “Somewhat reformed? That’s all you can give him?”

It is all he has earned.

“You might be right,” I said. “Who needs a bullheaded, ornery old guy around when we’ve already got you? I’m beginning to think that the real reason you don’t like Brax is because you’re too much alike.”

This is slanderous language, the centurion warned grumpily.

“Oh, please,” I said. “Brax earns his keep. We all know it. Sometimes, I really can’t believe how stubborn you are.”

Deacon nodded. “I’ll admit that he can be pretty weird, but if there’s anything I’ve learned about Brax by now, it’s that he’ll turn up when he’s good and ready. Say whatever you want about him, he always does.”

A murmur of general agreement ran through the room. Jules had graduated to making eye contact with me, but her face remained impassive. She had yet to open up about what was going on between her and the demon, but I was her best friend and I had my theories.

I turned back to Steph and Frank. “Tell me about the capital,” I said. “On a scale of ‘not at all’ to ‘totally,’ how fucked is it?”

She considered my rating system. “It’s seriously fucked,” she said finally. “But not hopeless. The city’s overrun, for sure, with a bunch of gods and other stuff. None of them have a solid presence like they did in New York, though.” She looked at Frank. “What do you think?”

The former mobster pulled a face. “It ain’t a pretty sight,” he admitted. “I can’t say one way or the other if there’s much left worth fighting over. It looked like it wasn’t anything more than a free for all from where we stood.” He paused. “Except that one place.”

Steph nodded. “True. There’s one area between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial that appeared to have been secured against the Forgotten. We didn’t get close enough to infiltrate, but we could see human troops patrolling a fairly wide perimeter, particularly around Lincoln. They were trying to clear out more so they could expand.”

“And weren’t doing a half-bad job, neither,” Frank added. “By the time we left, they gained some ground.”

She folded her arms. “Of course, we almost didn’t get to leave at all, what with this clumsy lunk picking fights over territory.” Although she glared daggers at Frank, her mouth held the hint of a smile.

“Hey!” he retorted, instantly on the defensive. “Did you want a closer look or not, woman? I can tell you from experience, these guys are beasts. The only rules they know are pack rules, and that means you fight for dominance.”

“You nearly had your ass kicked for dominance,” she said. “Just saying.”

Frank puffed up indignantly. “I had to make it believable,” he said. “I coulda beat the living daylights out of all of them, but do you think we would’ve gone undercover after that? No, sir.”

She glanced meaningfully at me. “He almost had his rear end handed to him on a silver platter. Don’t ask me how he pulled it off in the end.” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, wait, I saved his knuckleheaded ass.” She flashed Frank a real smile as she said that.

He grinned back. “Only a little. I had it covered for the most part.”

Steph patted his back. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, champ.”

I observed the exchange in stunned silence, barely comprehending what I saw. What the hell was going on there? How much weird subtext had I missed? I shook my head slightly. At least Deacon and I somewhat made sense together.

Frank cleared his throat. “Don’t listen to the lady, Vic. I got in far enough to see something interesting, which is that someone’s set up shop in the memorial. They cut Lincoln’s head off and everything. Ballsy move, if you ask me.”

“You’ll never guess who it was,” Steph interjected. She looked at Deacon. “Our old friend.”

Deacon blinked. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. We found him there, doing what he does best.” She mimed the act of smoking a cigarette, and I realized she was talking about the man from Central Park who’d shown up at the tunnel out of New York City.

“He cut Lincoln’s head off?” I asked, dumbfounded.

She shrugged. “It might not have been him who did that. But I wouldn’t be too surprised if it was, honestly.” She stopped fake smoking. “He said he wants to see you, by the way. As soon as possible. He said it was urgent.”

I ran my hand through my hair. “Of course.” A feeling I couldn’t quite explain wormed its way down into my stomach—like doubt mixed with resignation. Ordinarily, my gut might have advised me not to trust a person who possibly committed acts of vandalism on a national monument. But at the same time, it was impossible to pretend that the mysterious man hadn’t come through for me on multiple occasions.

Besides that, as usual, what choice did we have? One way or another, Delano had to be stopped. I already knew we’d need all the allies we could get.

“Well,” I said. “I know what we’re doing tomorrow. Next stop, DC.”

Chapter Three

I had slowly adjusted to being up at the crack of dawn and now trudged toward the trucks in the early, pale grey light. This time, I had everyone but Dan, Veronica, Jules, and Luis. The kid had begged me, practically on his knees, to ship out with the rest of us, but I’d played the bad cop and told him he had to stay. “Dan needs a righthand man,” was what I told him. Luis was plainly less than convinced, but his admirable sense of duty finally won out and he returned to the fort without a continued fight.

After that, the goodbyes were brief. We loaded into the trucks and drove out to the road in less than ten minutes. The way to the interstate was cold and dusty and the big wheels kicked up dirt and frost as we tracked our way to the highway. “You just got back and I’ve made you retrace your steps,” I said apologetically to Frank. “Sorry about that.”

He sat in the passenger seat with his elbow on the window sill and stared directly ahead out the windshield. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s all in a day’s work. And it beats sitting around on my ass doing nothing.”

On that much, we agreed. “Tell me about it,” I said. I glanced constantly in the rearview mirror, even though the road was eerily empty, and marveled at the changes that had taken place in Frank. “You know, you look awesome,” I told him. “You’re, like, glowing.”

“I ain’t knocked up if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said gruffly.

We both laughed. “Getting out on the road has been good for you,” I told him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this happy.”

The vampire mumbled something unintelligible and turned his face away. I thought I caught a glimpse of a blush creeping into his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he managed awkwardly and stared fixedly out the window. A few moments of silence passed. “I guess I never thought the apocalypse would be the thing to change my life for the better.”

“Oh?” I kept my voice carefully neutral. “I thought this had something to do with a certain blonde FBI bombshell.”

The blush intensified to the point where it became impossible to hide. Frank hemmed and hawed for a while, clearly uncomfortable with the line of questioning, but I could also tell he wanted to talk about it, at least a little. “It’s nothing,” he said after a protracted pause. “We just…” He trailed off and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“Just what?” I prodded like an annoying sibling or a nosy friend. “Just really like each other? Just want to get married and have a picket fence, two and a half kids, and a family dog?”

The ex-mobster gave me a warning look. “I don’t know about any of that half a kid bullshit, but…” He exhaled a big breath. “I don’t know, all right? We mighta hooked up once or twice. Or a few times.”

I smiled triumphantly. “There it is.”

“What can I say?” He threw his hands up. “It’s been a helluva long time since I had anyone to care about. Longer than that since anyone cared about me. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t feel real nice.”

I do not support this union, Marcus complained. Such fraternizing between a human and a Forgotten is no less than an abomination. It is surely an ill omen.

I shushed him hard with my mind, unwilling to dampen Frank’s newfound serenity in any way. He might have been a lowlife thug when we first met, but the guy was on the up and up, and I liked him. The least he deserved was a chance.

“Did she make you sleep on the couch after she had to rescue you from that fight?” I asked, mostly joking.

He chuckled. “She threatened, but nah. She’s not that scary when you get down to it. I mean, not it.” The blush returned with a vengeance. He struggled to find more appropriate phrasing. “She’s a good cop. Found out a lot of stuff. She wanted to go farther in instead of me when we reached the Memorial, but I told her a human approaching would be too suspicious. They coulda shot her on sight.” He scratched his chin. “I pretended to be a regular vamp and bellied up to the perimeter. I let ʼem fight me off, but not before I had a good look at the place.”

I opened my mouth to ask for more details. Instead, a curse emerged. “Shit!” I grabbed the wheel with both hands and stomped the brake. The truck went into a sideways skid and sprayed dust and gravel up against the body. As the cloud cleared, Frank and I stared at a watery chasm framed by two ragged segments of what had once been a bridge.

“What the fuck?” Frank muttered.

“It looks like it’s out,” I said.

The vamp shook his head. “This can’t be right. It wasn’t out yesterday.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“It couldn’t have been out,” he insisted. “We crossed it on our way to the fort.”

A car door slammed behind us. Moments later, Deacon walked past my window. He inspected the stub of the bridge in front of the truck before he returned and tapped on the glass. I rolled it down.

“I’m not an expert, but I think this was done on purpose,” he said. We looked at each other and obviously shared the same thought.

I threw open my door and hollered, “Ambush!”

The other vehicles pulled in tight and we gathered in the center, circled, and faced outward. The thick trees on either side of the road quivered with hellish, unearthly growls.

“You could’ve told us you had planned a family reunion, Maya,” Steph joked.

“Call it a surprise party,” she shot back. “I have to admit, they almost got me.” She hulked out as a wave of mangy fur and glistening fangs exploded through the tree line. The howls were enough to rattle my teeth. I clenched my jaw and drew my sword.

Deacon and Steph opened fire first. On my right, Frank charged the nearest werewolf and instantly tore out a huge chunk of the creature’s throat. The wolf staggered, reverted to human form, and clutched at the wound. Before it even hit the ground, the vampire leapt onto his next victim. He was astonishingly fast now, much like the vamps I’d fought in the slaughterhouse, and he still impacted like a semi.

I dodged the Were with the missing trachea and struck out at the legs of the one right behind it to bring the beast to its knees. On instinct, I planted the Gladius Solis into the hard, half-frozen ground and used my momentum to swing around. The blade came free as I sailed forward and lopped the wolf’s head cleanly off its neck on my way past. The feverish yellow eyes glazed over, and the body slumped heavily. I hit the ground running and thrust the sword into a Were’s chest. The bones stood out in sharp, emaciated relief beneath its shoddy hide.

“I thought these fleabags were on our side!” Frank yelled. He swung from side to side as he clung tenaciously to the unkempt scruff of a large Were’s neck. Before it could shake him off, three bullets perforated its skull in quick succession. The vampire rode the corpse to the ground.

“You’re welcome,” Steph called. “Again.” She turned and delivered a roundhouse kick into the ribcage of a Were poised to leap. It crumpled and she stepped on its neck.

“Hell of a woman,” Frank said. He dusted his hands off. “Like I was saying, I thought they were with us.”

“Some of them are.” I parried a claw strike with my blade, which proceeded to melt the creature’s claws to stubs. “Not all of them. The ones in Washington—” I paused to grapple the Were, threw him backward, and pinned him with the sword. “The ones in Washington didn’t spend that much time with the god who turned them. I had the chance to revise their conditioning, so to speak. There’s no helping these guys. They’re starving and feral.”

They didn’t even appear to have retained the ability to speak in anything but beastly noises. Every last shred of humanity in their eyes was long gone. It was a wonder they could even take the bridge out or plan this ambush. And yet, there we were.

Most of the creatures produced as Forgotten have no sense of humanity at all, Marcus said. They cannot be grouped with the likes of their former brethren, no matter where their origins lie. Individuals such as Maya and Frank must be viewed as the exception, rather than the rule. He said the last part stiffly like he was frowning.

I looked into the sea of frothing Weres and for once, I was tempted to simply agree. “Why do they always have to travel in packs?” I asked out loud.

As if in answer, three bullet holes materialized neatly in the three nearest beasts, directly between their blazing eyes. “They know I need target practice,” Steph said. She dropped three more in the span of a few seconds.

“See, Vic?” Deacon asked. “That could be you, but you keep playing.”

I glowered at him. The Gladius Solis flew from my hand, plunged through an oncoming Were, out his back, and through the neck of the one behind him. I didn’t flinch as it returned smoothly into my hand.

“Does it look like I’m playing?” I demanded.

“Holy shit,” Steph said. She nodded over my shoulder, and I turned in time to see Maya break a Were’s back, toss the limp corpse onto a pile of others, throw her head back, and howl her dominance. She grabbed the last of her challengers by the chest fur, slammed the wolf into the ground, and used her weight and strength to crush its considerably frailer frame. She snapped its neck in one swift movement. The sharp crack of bone resounded in the sudden silence.

“They’re leaving!” Deacon announced. “Looks like they’re not so dumb after all.” The few survivors of the horde had turned tail and loped into the dark recesses of the forest, leaving a trail of their dead. We regrouped at the cars and Maya threw on a spare change of clothes.

“Nice job, team,” I said. “We kicked all kinds of werewolf ass. And now, the million-dollar question is how the hell do we get ourselves across the river?”

Chapter Four

Our quest to ford the river took us miles downstream, where we found a spot we could get across with only mild panic in our chests. The water surged almost to the hoods of our trucks at times, but we made it to the opposite bank, up the incline, and back toward the nearest road.

Frank and I spent a lot of the drive catching up, and when we were through with that, we drove in companionable silence. Occasionally, we scanned for radio stations, and we always kept our eyes peeled for more trouble. Deacon and I exchanged status reports between trucks every hour or so. Outside the windows, the ravaged landscape rolled by.

There wasn’t much to see aside from ruined farmland and old, splintery barns, so the sight of a ramshackle diner on the side of the road caught all our attention. We pulled into the unpaved lot with the intention to search the place for any leftover food. As I killed the engine, I noticed that the diner’s neon sign flickered and that people moved around inside. The long counter was manned, and a few booths were occupied.

“Ain’t this a fine how-do-you-do,” Frank remarked flatly.

“Let’s hope we don’t need a reservation,” I said.

We joined the rest of our team and walked through the door. Nobody looked up from their meals or conversation. A haggard waitress with dark circles like moon craters etched under her eyes nodded at me and gestured toward a large round table at the back.

On my way through the dining area, I examined the other patrons furtively. They all looked bone-tired and like they were covered in a fine layer of dust. The atmosphere inside the run-down establishment was one of thorough exhaustion.

We could all relate.

The crew breathed a communal sigh of relief as we settled into our seats, grateful for a few minutes out of the car to grab a bite to eat. The waitress brought us glasses of water and we skimmed the menu.

“This is weird,” Maya said and broke the relative quiet. “It feels wrong.”

“We saw shit like this all over the place in and around D.C.,” said Frank. “Plenty on the way, too. People are starting to try to build something from their shattered lives. They want things to be normal, even if they know it’s only a damn charade.”

Steph nodded. “We heard that workers had returned to power plants and phone companies to try to get services up and running reliably. No one told them to. They’re doing it because that’s all they can do.”

It is a familiar narrative, Marcus agreed. For centuries, we have built civilization from the fires of hell, of war, and of disaster. Misfortune continues to befall us, worse now than ever. And yet, people remain fundamentally resilient.

I studied our surroundings more closely. Now that we’d been seated and had started to talk among ourselves, some of the other tables had finally taken notice. Their eyes settled on me like weights but I chose to ignore them.

“The whole country must be like this,” Deacon said. “We crash-landed in the Midwest for a minute on our way to Washington, and we found more Forgotten without even trying. I think it’s all overrun.”

Maya shuddered. “I can’t even imagine three thousand miles of this,” she said. “I wonder how many humans are alive out there.”

“More than we fear and less than we hope,” I said. “The best way to rescue them at this point is to get to the bottom of this awful mess.”

She nodded. “Agreed. But I hope that doesn’t take too long. Something tells me there isn’t much time.”

The waitress returned. We ordered our food in a somber, contemplative mood. When she left, Frank cleared his throat. “Steph suggested we stick around outside D.C. and open one of those modern bed and breakfasts. All cozy-like. Just shut out the rest of the world going to hell.”

Steph burst out laughing. “That was your idea, you son of a bitch!” she exclaimed. “I think it’s utterly ridiculous.”

“Maybe not,” he said. “I hear property taxes are lower than ever.” He winked and she swatted his arm.

The mood held until our meals arrived, and we dug in and got down to business. “It ought to be easy to get into the city,” Frank reassured us. “We didn’t have no trouble. It took longer to fight our way out on account of them flocking toward the city centers.”

“Now that New York City’s more or less fallen, many of the stray Forgotten appear to be searching for a new home base,” Steph explained. “Things can get fairly hairy.”

Frank waved the possibility away. “It’ll be fine,” he said. “We’re as tough as nails. We can do this.”

“I’ve heard that one before,” Deacon remarked grimly. “What could go wrong?”

Frank stuck the last bite of food from his plate into his mouth, chewed quickly, and swallowed. “Here’s what I’m not a hundred percent sold on,” he said. “How do we know we can really trust this guy—the smoking jackass, or whatever you call him? Does anybody have any dirt we can use?”

All eyes turned to Deacon. He took a swig of his water. “Look, I don’t know much,” he said cautiously. “Definitely not much more than Steph. The guy’s a damn ghost. He showed up one day early on, dropped some intel, and disappeared. A short while after, he showed up again, dropped some more, and disappeared. It’s like he leaves trails of breadcrumbs for us to follow but only he really knows where they lead. No one in the Bureau that I could talk to knew a single thing about where he came from. That’s all we have.”

Frank scoffed. “It sounds shady to me,” he grumbled.

I stretched and leaned back in my chair. The patrons at the table behind us huddled close together and whispered among themselves. A few phrases caught my nectar-heightened ears.

“I think that guy is one of them. Look at his skin.”

“Did you see his eyes? Why are his clothes all torn up like that?”

“Why don’t her clothes fit? Those freaks must be hiding something.”

The blood boiled hot into my face and tinged my vision red. I clenched my fists, about to teach those nosy pricks exactly how to mind their own business. As I moved to push my chair out, Marcus spoke.

Do not act on rash emotions, Victoria. I understand that their words are ignorant and hurtful, but it is only natural for humans to despise a being like Frank—and Maya, if they truly knew her nature. This is the way of things. Indeed, these instincts have kept many a human alive in dire times.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood and willed my head to cool. The desire to knock someone’s block off still burned within me, but I tried to be sensible instead. Starting a fight would hardly make things easier for us now. The very last thing we needed was unwanted attention.

“Okay, guys,” I announced and shoved my chair back. “It’s time for us to get back on the road.”

Deacon glanced at me but didn’t question my decision. We left money for our bill on the counter and I led our crew the hell out of there. Back in the truck cab, I hazarded a glance through the front window of the diner. The patrons in the booth behind us stared at me with raw animosity in their eyes.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. I jammed the key into the ignition, started the engine, and accelerated out of that place as fast as I could.

Chapter Five

The remainder of the journey to the capital was quiet and far more tense than before. I shoved our experience at the diner to the back of my mind. Common sense told me I needed to focus on what lay ahead and what we might find as we reached the outskirts of DC. We had barely entered the official city limits when my view of the deserted road changed dramatically. I put my foot on the brake.

“Damn it,” I murmured. “What the hell is going on here?”

There was no mistaking the distinctive dark green color and boxy outline of the military trucks.

Frank’s fingers drummed restlessly on his knees. “Lock the doors,” he said. “I don’t know what they want, but they won’t get it without a fight.”

I sighed. “No, no, hold on. The smoking dude brought the army to Lincoln Tunnel, remember? They could be on our side. The blockade simply gave me a minor heart attack. That’s all.” I eased our vehicle to the front of the barricade and slowed to a stop. The vampire balled his hands into fists to keep his fingers still.

A soldier approached the door, decked out in full combat gear. He peered at me from under his helmet. “Vic Stratton?” he asked after an extended period of scrutiny.

“Yeah.” My voice and demeanor remained cool. I had no idea how the strange man knew how to expect us, but decided to work with what I had until I knew more.

The soldier nodded. “We’ve been instructed to escort you down to the Memorial. Pull through here and follow us, please.” He signaled for his compatriots to move the center of the barricade aside, which revealed an envoy of waiting transports. They flanked us as we proceeded through.

“See?” I told Frank. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Right,” he answered. “I’ll believe it when I lay eyes on this weirdo for myself.”

The escort blocked out the view from either side, but we were still treated to a dismal, head-on view of a broken city. Much as we had seen in New York, heaps of rubble and debris lined the streets and blocked some of them off entirely. Several small fires burned along the roadside, which was also crowded with the usual mess of abandoned cars. Many of the buildings we passed had obviously been abandoned, looted, and vandalized, or some combination of the three. By now, I was numbed to that kind of scene. The whole damn country looked this way.

The National Mall sprawled before us and I sucked in a sharp breath. The Capitol Building towered high above our solemn parade, its dome shattered into jagged pieces. The walkways leading to the building were broken and treacherous as if an earthquake had ripped through. Barely over a mile down the Mall, the Washington Monument leaned dismally. It had been broken and now stabbed into the grass at its base. Huge cracks riddled the stonework and radiated through the ground at the site of impact.

“What a fucking mess,” I said quietly. “I wonder which royal jackass is responsible for that.” Frank didn’t have an answer.

Beyond the Monument, the west end of the Mall appeared incongruously normal. The Lincoln Memorial stood at the edge of the reflecting pool, regal as ever. I could barely see the looming silhouette of Honest Abe as we approached, but something wasn’t quite right.

Soon, however, my attention shifted to the forces strung thickly around the edge of the Memorial grounds and all the way up the stairs. They watched us disembark from our trucks, saluted our escort, and waved us through.

“This way,” said the soldier who’d greeted us at the blockade. I expected him to lead us up the steps, but instead, he moved around the side toward an inconspicuous door tucked into the base of the Memorial. I hesitated and glanced up the marble stairs. Lincoln had been beheaded and his statue ended in nothing more than a rough marble stump.

“Keep moving, please,” the soldier called back. I jogged to catch up. The image of headless Lincoln lingered in my mind’s eye. Talk about an ill omen.

Behind the plain door, we were met by yet another guard, who took one look at us and held his hand up. “Hold it,” he said brusquely and stared at Frank. “He can’t come any farther.”

I bristled. “Why not?” The edge in my voice couldn’t be concealed. I might have expected this kind of ignorance from laypeople, maybe, not someone with the smoking man’s obvious authority.

The guard frowned at me. He was blunt in his reply. “Because he’s a vamp. There’s a strict no-monster policy here.” He paused to let the words sink in and then repeated himself. “He can’t come any farther. He’ll have to stay outside.”

“Are you kidding me?” I asked and gritted my teeth. “This is fucked.” For the second time that day, blood rushed to my head.

Maya placed her hand on my shoulder. “Vic,” she said soothingly. “It’s fine. Frank and I can wait outside. Right, Frank?”

The vampire’s gaze bounced quickly between me, Maya, and the guard. “Uh, sure,” he said and shuffled backward. “Go on without us, boss. We’ll wait here.”

The guard glanced curiously at Maya. “Only him, honey,” he told her. “You can come on in.”

She smiled sweetly. “No, I can’t. I’m afraid it would be against your policy.” His eyes widened and he studied her with futile interest. She held the smile on her face. “Let’s say that Frank, here, is a daydream. I’m your worst nightmare.”

The guard swallowed. He beckoned the rest of us onward as Maya and Frank retreated into the daylight. I brushed past him harder than necessary.

Although Maya is but little, she is fierce, Marcus commented.

“She’s not always that little, either,” I said.

We passed into the halls of a tiny museum dedicated to the sixteenth president, which featured a wall of plaques and an austere portrait of his face on one wall. The space had otherwise been converted into an open office. Everything was polished to an absurd shine. Pieces of furniture softened the place, including a large, dark wood desk situated in front of a wall of matching bookshelves. The smoking man stood between desk and shelves and white plumes billowed from his lips. He looked immaculate.

When he saw us, he smiled. “Welcome, Vic. Please, do your best to make yourselves at home. I am pleased to see you’ve taken my advice to heart and collected a fine company of warriors.”

“It’d be even finer if you hadn’t forced me to leave my best one at the door,” I said. Frustration bubbled immediately below the surface. Maya had spent months at my side. I resented that she wasn’t allowed to be there now.

“A shame,” he agreed. “But it can’t be helped. Your friends have proven their worth, but their nature leaves something to be desired. Trusting the Forgotten is all but impossible.”

I scowled. “That’s a pretty messed up thing to say. You don’t make much of a case for yourself here.” Everyone wanted to walk on thin ice today. I resisted the mighty urge to crack my knuckles.

Deacon cleared his throat. “You asked for us, sir,” he said. “We’re here. Tell us what’s going on.”

The smoking man took a long drag on his cigarette. His gaze roamed each of our faces. “Delano’s location has been pinpointed,” he began. “He’s in the Midwest—essentially, the middle of nowhere. Nothing but flat, out-of-season cornfields as far as the eye can see.” He puffed again. “A perfect place to raise a massive army and especially if the lesser gods—of which the number is increasing—continue to bow at his feet. I suspect that soon, he will have found a way to force the stronger ones into line as well. Our task is to stop him before that happens.”

My ears perked up, albeit grudgingly. “Or else what?”

He turned his calm, impassive eyes to me. “Or else the human world ends,” he said simply. “Delano is the biggest threat we know, bar none. Up until now, uncontrolled chaos between the gods has allowed some space for those humans who have survived to run, to hide, and to fight. If Delano is able to bring about some semblance of unity, even if he must do so by force, there will be nowhere for mankind to go. The truth is as stark and cruel as that.”

“Awesome,” I said flatly. “What’s the bad news?”

The smoking man smiled. “Provided that we are able to defeat Delano, the other gods will then fear us in his stead. They will flee or be banished. We can take this nation back, and from here, the rest of the Earth.” He flicked the ash carelessly from his cigarette. “As far as strategy is concerned, I have contacts within the uncompromised sectors of the United States Military resistance. They are standing by to coordinate a strike with you and your team, should you choose to do so.”

For a moment, we simply stared at one another. “We have to confer,” I said finally.

“Of course.” The man turned his back. “I need not remind you that time is a luxury.”

Deacon, Steph, and I snapped into a quick huddle. I looked at them and wished the other two-fifths of my team had been permitted to join us. “It’s a huge risk,” I said. “We don’t have any idea how strong Delano is now, and I’m a hundred percent positive that he will expect an attack. There’s no way we’d be able to catch him by surprise.”

“Also, I’m kind of with Frank on this guy,” Steph said, her voice low. “He made us leave our brawlers at the door because he says we can’t trust them? I don’t think so. He’s the one we shouldn’t trust. We don’t know anything about him.”

“He hasn’t steered us wrong yet, Steph,” Deacon said. “It’s not like we have a folder full of fallback plans. This is now down to the wire. There’s no room to second-guess anything here.”

“The whole world is at stake,” she fired back. “Not only the free one. Everything. Second-guessing seems like the smartest thing we can do.” She turned to me. “I don’t like it, Vic.”

“And I don’t think it matters whether we like it or not,” Deacon said. “It’s this or nothing.”

It is a quandary, Marcus interjected. But I can vouch for urgency in this decision. Delano is ruthless and his power only increases. If he is not unseated, all will be as the gentleman has said. I believe the best course of action is to strike for the kill.

His voice was cut off when a soldier burst in through the entrance to the museum. “Sir!” he cried, out of breath. “We’re under attack!”

Chapter Six

Our huddle broke immediately and we barreled past the guards outside to rejoin Maya and Frank. The forces on the perimeter were already engaged with a significant number of short, brutish golems.

They weren’t fast, nor were they even very big, but they could pack a crazy wallop. A soldier was thrown back onto the steps from a single punch and grimaced in pain. The mirror-like surface of the reflecting pool churned, and more golems rose dripping from the water.

“Damn it to hell!” I cursed. My blade blazed into my hands and I raised it to meet the advancing ranks.

The golems proved to be relatively easy to hack apart, although they were sturdy and often continued to move as long as their legs remained intact. Without heads, they swung blindly as if in an attempt to land a crippling blow. I danced nimbly in and out of range, sliced them down, and launched heavy chunks of their crude limbs at those who still attacked. They staggered beneath the weight of their fallen comrades.

Frank wrenched a head off and heaved it into the water. Despite the weight he’d lost, he was still built like a brick shithouse, and he weathered punches and kicks like taps on the shoulder. Each time a golem was stalled by the impact of a bullet from Steph or one of the soldiers, the vampire seized it and tore into its dense, muddy flesh until it collapsed. Bodies sank into the depths of the pool they’d come from—those that stayed intact, anyway. Maya’s tactic was to crush them into dust against the ground. I hoped the museum guard had a front row seat to all her werewolf glory.

Choppy waves lapped at the edge of the stone we stood on. I kicked another golem into the pool. A strange, deep rumble started low in my ears. The waves in the pool grew larger, and the earth quaked enough to catch me off guard.

“Back up!” I yelled and leapt toward the stairs. The center of the shallow pool bulged upward and exploded into a shower of water and huge chunks of rock and dirt.

I ducked and cursed as a piece of concrete landed inches to my left. When I looked up again, all the water at our side of the pool had gone and left a shallow basin with a gaping hole in the center. A craggy, two-legged behemoth straddled the hole, its entire body crusted with grimy rock. It hunched over, flexed two powerful arms, and emitted a roar.

“What the fuck is that?” someone shouted.

I rolled my eyes. Questions were for amateurs. I’d become a pro long before. “Any ideas on this chump?” I asked Marcus as I brandished the Gladius Solis.

An Apprenti, for certain, Marcus said. A true god would have stronger minions. I cannot say I know this one in particular, although I would venture to guess that his strength is his most fearsome characteristic.

“Somehow, I’m not worried that it will think me to death,” I said. The behemoth’s eyes tracked instantly to the sword’s fiery glow. It smiled and exposed a mouthful of sharp black teeth.

“God-killer!” it thundered. Its deep voice resonated across the Mall. “We meet at last. Your puny weapon stands no chance against the likes of me. Prepare to be slain.”

“Wow,” I said. “Those were more words than I assumed you knew. And here I thought you wouldn’t impress me at all.”

The ugly son of a bitch laughed. “Mockery is the bastion of the weak,” he proclaimed and stepped out of the empty pool. The bare stone cracked beneath his feet. “It is useless within the arena of war. Either fight or die.” He swept one club-like arm out and the gesture caused the soldiers around me to scatter. More little golems now surged up from the hole the behemoth had made with his grand entrance.

I nodded toward them. “Take care of the small fry. I’ll handle Ben Grimm over here.” The stone hulk very obviously readied himself to deliver a serious punch, but I dashed in under his arm and drove the point of my sword toward his chest with all my might.

Sparks flew on impact, but the hard plating still melted under the intense heat of the blade. I felt his thick, clumsy hands try to grip me and lift me off my feet. If he managed to get ahold of me, I might be in trouble.

I spun away and slashed at his fingers. One blocky thumb tumbled to the ground near my feet. A burning orange gash materialized across his rough palm. The Apprenti jerked his hand back and growled in pain. He lunged forward suddenly, his good hand open for a powerful blow. The rush of wind fluttered my hair as I dodged out of the way in the nick of time.

“Float like a butterfly,” I said and hefted my sword into position. “Sting like a fucking bee.”

Once more, I leapt into range. He threw himself forward and rained sediment down on me. His fists slammed at the place where I’d stood scant seconds before but I was too damn fast. I used his bent leg as a launching point, jumped as high as I could, and anchored the sword deep in the Apprenti’s bulky shoulder. His skin began to melt into a sludgy, muddy substance.

Gravity did the rest of the work. The Gladius Solis slid downward through the behemoth’s torso and sliced into his chest and ribs. Pieces crumbled off his body, and when my feet touched the ground, his entire right side peeled away. He teetered on one foot, only to be pelted in the face by his own minion. I looked over my shoulder and Maya grinned as she stretched her throwing arm.

The stone Apprenti toppled into the drained reflecting pool and a shockwave rippled outward from his body. The basin shattered, but the ground held it in place. I turned to face my team and the other soldiers. They all stared dumbly at me, their jaws more or less on the floor. The man himself had made his way onto the marble stairs below the entrance to the Memorial’s central chamber. He was still smoking.

I strode closer through a mess of golem carnage and planted one foot on a step. “I’m tired of this shit,” I told him and raised my voice so everyone could hear. “And I guess that means I’m in. Now, I’m gonna come up there, and you’ll tell me how in hell we bring Delano down.”

Chapter Seven

An hour later, we were back at the trucks and preparing to leave D.C. Whatever else I could have said about the guy and his damn cigarettes, he came more prepared than most others I’d met along the way. We would return to Fort Victory with a plan, and that made our otherwise empty hands more bearable. Part of me had hoped he’d give us a secret weapon or something, but I should have known it would never be that easy.

“Vic.” His voice stopped me halfway through the truck door—passenger side this time. Frank sat behind the wheel and looked ready to simply hot-foot it out of there.

I gave him an apologetic glance. “Can you hold it for, like, one second? I’ll keep this as short as I can.”

“Take your time,” the vampire said. A drop of irony laced his next words. “It must be important.”

“It had better be.” I slammed the door and turned to face our host. We were all at least a little antagonized by him, and I was determined not to let him waste my time. Sharing his strategy against Delano had only bought him provisional amnesty as far as I was concerned.

Nobody put Maya in the corner.

He didn’t come closer than ten feet, and he lit a cigarette while I waited for him to tell me what he wanted. He must’ve smoked a whole pack of those things over the duration of our visit alone. “I think,” he said and exhaled a cloud of white smoke that wreathed around his head and shoulders, “that if this works, it will change everything.”

I eyed him evenly. “There’s no reason it won’t work,” I said. “My team and I will play our part as long as you uphold your end of the bargain.”

“Naturally,” he replied. Another drag ended in another billow of white. The smoke seemed to hang around him a little, almost like a clinging mist. He drifted into thoughtful silence. His eyes became distant for a moment or two. “Take care to choose your soldiers carefully when you go to face him.”

I chewed the inside of my lip and raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He seemed determined to irritate me beyond endurance. I could feel the ice he walked on grow thinner.

“Your friends may seem loyal to you at present, and perhaps they truly are.” He flicked the end of his cigarette. “But Delano has powers beyond compare, as you’ve no doubt seen. Can you be certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that his presence will not change their minds? At heart, they are Forgotten. They always will be.”

“Who are you talking about?” I demanded. The question was unnecessary—we both knew which two he had kept in exile outside the Memorial. I merely wanted to force him to say their names and to acknowledge the way he treated individuals who professed to be his allies. He didn’t take the bait and instead, regarded me through the haze of smoke.

“Listen—” I burst out. My anger pushed through my tight control and I couldn’t help it. I wanted to punch some sense into him.

He held up a hand to cut me off. “Do not misunderstand my motives, young one. All I want you to do is think about it. I’m sure your friend in the medallion would agree.” His two cents apparently deposited, he turned to leave.

This time, I was the one to stop him. I had no idea what to say, only the insurmountable urge to say something. “Who are you?” was the question my mouth seemed determined to ask. The man halted. “Really,” I added as if that helped. “I didn’t come here to be jerked around.”

He smiled enigmatically. “Who is anyone?” he asked. “Fear not, my friend. We’ll all learn who we are before the end.”

That was not the answer I wanted. I threw the truck door open and climbed furiously into the seat. “Let’s go,” I said to Frank. “Screw this place.”

“Amen.” He drove around the curve of Lincoln Circle and out to the street. The escort stuck with us until we’d returned to the highway, at which point, they fell away. I watched the military envoy turn back toward the capital in the rearview mirror.

“Hey, Marcus,” I said and chose my words carefully because Frank was right there and I was the one he could hear. “Was he telling the truth about you?”

He didn’t reply for a while. Frank, for his part, kept his mouth shut and his eyes on the road. At last, Marcus said, It is possible, Victoria, that in the presence of an entity such as Delano, even the strongest convictions may waver. I cannot say that I wholeheartedly disagree with his assessment.

Residual anger smoldered in my veins, born of a loyalty I hadn’t truly considered until it was thrown into question. After all this time—all this distance, everything we’d been through together—who was some cigarette-huffing old man to doubt the bonds forged in our trials by fire? I rubbed my face with the heel of my hand and told myself to brush it off and clear my mind. He was a general in the war against the gods, nothing more. I didn’t have to take his word as gospel and I resolved that I wouldn’t.

He was right about one thing, though. By the end, when it mattered, we’d all know who we were. And he would know what we were made of, too.

“Are you good?” Frank asked tentatively. He hazarded a glance in my direction. “Do you want I should stop the car? You look like you might hurl. Or punch the window out.”

I forced myself to grin and some of the tension melted from my body. “Nah,” I said. “I’m good. We’ve gotta go home and get ready to kick some ass.”

“Your wish is my command,” the vampire said and returned the grin. The truck’s engine revved as he stepped on the gas.

Chapter Eight

I rummaged through a pile of clothes on my bed in search of a matching pair of socks. Even though we’d spent a lot of time traveling lately, it somehow still felt weird to pack a bag like this—as if I were going on vacation. I tossed another shirt in along with another pair of underwear. I had no idea how many I’d need, but then again, we were essentially clueless about many things.

For one, how the hell did I think this confrontation with Delano would go? By the time we hauled ass out to Indiana, it would realistically be weeks since I’d last seen him. He could have changed in a million different ways. Even the simple thought that I had to figure that mess out made me both frustrated and anxious. I pushed the half-full bag away and plopped heavily on the edge of the mattress.

“Damn it,” I said out loud and balled my hands into fists against my thighs. “I wish I’d been able to fight him back in Washington. Of course, that was the one time he bailed instead of getting down to business.”

Please do not interpret this the wrong way, Marcus said. However…

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Oh, great. Here it comes.”

I feel that perhaps it was a fortunate decision. The magnitude of Delano’s new power cannot be overstated. A battle against him would likely not have ended in your favor at that point.

I laughed grimly. “Just say it, Marcus. He would’ve kicked my ass.”

And laughed about it. Raucously.

I sighed. “I fucking hate that bastard, but you’re right. He’s swallowed gods left and right. I think he might be more than a god now if that’s even possible.”

I shudder to think that it is, and yet, he has made it so. A legion of gods inhabiting one body. I wonder. How long can he sustain an arrangement this extreme?

“Long enough,” I answered. “It barely matters anyway. I’ll drag Delano to hell or die trying.”

A hero’s death, Marcus said. He chose not to elaborate. I went back to tossing things into my bag.

The sound of the door squeaking open behind me almost didn’t register over the roar of my own thoughts. It wasn’t until Jules parked herself on the bed that I glanced up.

“Hey,” she said. “How are you?”

I made space for her. “That’s a loaded question.”

She began to pluck articles of clothing from the heap and folded them into neat piles on the bedspread. “I know. I wanted to check on you and make sure you haven’t totally lost your mind. You always have so much to deal with compared to me.”

“That’s not true,” I said with a look of protest. “You’re like the queen of hospitality around here. People might not know it, but you’re the reason they’re so happy living at Fort Victory. You’ve made this place a home for a ton of hopeless refugees.”

She smiled slightly. “Things are never hopeless when you’re around, Vic. And I’m glad you feel that way. I simply…” She paused with a bulky sweatshirt clutched in her hands and shook her head. “I guess I’m the one going crazy here. I’m bored! Isn’t that insane?” Her laugh was as dry as bone. “Imagine being bored in your safehouse in the middle of the damned apocalypse. But that’s the situation. Lately, I feel I could climb the walls. I can’t get out of my head.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there.” I scanned my attempt to pack, decided it would have to do, and zipped the duffel bag.

“You got out of it,” Jules said.

“By shipping out to Washington and almost getting killed by Vikings,” I reminded her. “My solutions aren’t for everyone.”

She was quiet for a minute and her fingers fretted at the hem of the sweatshirt. The gears of her nimble mind worked visibly behind her eyes. “I want to go with you this time,” she declared suddenly.

I was so caught off guard that I laughed, which I immediately saw was the wrong reaction. “Sorry,” I said quickly. “But what are you talking about, Jules? You have zero combat training and no offense, but I’ve seen you shoot a gun.”

She pursed her lips. “And I’ve seen Deacon trying to teach you.”

“Hey!” I laughed and threw a shirt gently at her. “It’s different for me because I have the sword. Teaching me to shoot was all Deacon’s idea.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “When did you watch us, anyway? He always insists that we practice alone, or else I might kill someone by accident.”

My best friend smirked knowingly. “Oh, I’m so sure that’s the real reason. Although it is a valid concern.” Her smile faded. “I’m really happy that’s working out for you two. Deacon’s a great guy.”

“Yeah, you look super happy.” I sat down beside her. “What’s up?” She shrugged and a light clicked on in my head. “Hold on a second. This is about Brax, isn’t it?”

I could tell by the look on her face that I’d hit the nail on the head. She flushed pink all the way to her ears.

“I hate to break it to you,” I said and nudged her in the ribs. “But it’s fairly obvious.”

Jules groaned. “Okay, okay. Yes, it has something to do with him. And no, I didn’t expect things to turn out this way.” She paused. “It’s hard to admit now, but I was afraid of him at first. I thought there was no way he could ever get along with humans in a non-violent way.”

I arched my eyebrows. “To be honest, I doubt even he would blame you for thinking that. Hell, until recently, he probably would’ve agreed with you.”

She shrugged. “I know. Maybe I wanted to help him more than anything—at least in the beginning.” She twirled a lock of her golden hair around her fingers. “Now, we have such a strong connection. He told me about his past, and it helped me see him in a totally different light.” She looked at me with a mixture of worry and excitement in her eyes. “I’m…sort of falling for him.”

I chuckled. “That seems like an understatement.”

“He’s my type, too, which is strange to say out loud.” Her blush returned. “Rough around the edges but secretly soft-hearted. It’s like he’s from a romance novel. And I have to admit, I love it.”

“What kind of romance novels have you read?” I teased.

Jules winked. “The good kind.” She finally finished folding the sweatshirt and set it aside. “Anyway, now you know why I have to get out of here for a while. Not forever. I merely need to clear my head and get some distance so I can think about things rationally again.”

I put my arm around her shoulders. “I’ll let you come with us on one condition.”

“Name it,” she said quickly.

“You’ll not fight,” I told her. “You’re the brains of this operation. It’d be way too dangerous to throw you into combat this late in the game without serious training. Delano’s not like the chumps we fought in New York.”

Jules nodded. “Don’t worry, Vic. I’ll take care of myself and stay out of your way.”

“And you won’t fight.” I prodded her for verbal confirmation. Jules looked soft on the outside, but I knew better than anyone how tough she could be. I also knew that squaring up against a super god like Delano was not in her wheelhouse, regardless of how she felt about a certain demon.

She nodded again, more insistently this time. “Thank you for trusting me on this. I’ll be fine. I promise.” She gave me a squeeze, stood, and was out the door before I had the chance to say anything else. I stared after her.

Victoria, I fear a mistake has been made, Marcus said. I cringed. I had forgotten the old geezer was there. The battlefield is no place for a woman like that. She belongs—

“No way,” I interrupted. “Don’t start on where Jules belongs.” I grabbed my bag, glanced down at it, and unzipped it to check its contents one last time. “Sometimes, you say stuff like that and your age really shows, dude. You have to get with the progressive picture.” Satisfied with my loadout, I placed the bag by the door. “Besides, you never expected me to be this type of woman either.”

The difference is that I was able to train you first.

“And that’s why I told her she couldn’t fight.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure if she actually listened, but I meant what I said. I’m not above tackling her to the ground if I see her even try to pack heat.”

On the contrary, that seems a reasonable course of action for her to take. The middle of this country is cold at this time of year.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose.”

Well, I am beginning to think that your trust in your friends may run too deep.

I stopped on my way into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of my own surprise in the tiny mirror. “Whoa,” I said. “Way to bring down the vibe, old man.”

He didn’t respond as I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and ran a comb through hair that had grown way too long. But his silence wasn’t empty. I could sense his need to speak his mind.

“Come on, Marcus,” I said finally. “Spill it. I have no choice but to listen to you anyway.”

You will be angry with me.

“I might,” I said. “But we’ll work it out. We’re both adults here.”

Very well. It is my belief that the man at the marble house was correct in his caution regarding certain members of our party.

“Feel free to explain,” I said evenly and stared hard at my reflection.

There is no denying that Delano’s strength has exceeded all previously known levels, as we have said multiple times. We know for certain that his behavior has escalated to the point where he now consumes gods entirely, and yet, there have apparently been no ill effects. Given these circumstances, it seems utterly foolish to assume that he would not be capable of controlling Frank and Maya at a moment’s notice. They may be strong, but they cannot compare with entities over which Delano has already asserted his dominance.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to be annoyed. This was merely typical Marcus logic as usual. “Maya was able to break away from Lupres,” I said. “Frank defied Delano’s orders once. He can do it again.”

Lupres cannot compare. Nor can any previous form that Delano has taken. He has transcended all boundaries. The rules by which we once were guided have lost their relevance.

I closed my eyes and soaked his words in. They made me uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, let’s talk strategy,” I said briskly and snapped my eyes open. “You have advice for everything, and I’m asking for it. Tell me what my expectations should be.”

This kind of thing was what Marcus was best at, and I wanted to steer him away from the doom and gloom. We needed to come at this from an optimistic place.

My plan didn’t work.

I do not know. I have been around for thousands of years. I have watched civilizations grow and die. I assumed I had seen everything and that nothing new remained. I was wrong.

“What’s the prognosis, Doc?” I asked. “Give it to me straight. I can handle it.”

The chances of victory are slim. At best.

A knock at the door punctuated his last sentence. I stepped out of the bathroom and answered it, if only to grant myself a distraction. Deacon stood in the hall and his expression sobered as soon as he saw me.

“What’s with the face?” he asked. “We haven’t even left yet.”

I stood aside so he could enter the room. “Oh, you know. Marcus was telling me how screwed we are.”

That is not an entirely accurate translation.

“Since when have you ever listened to him?” Deacon reached out and grabbed me gently by the waist. “Come on. If anyone’s got this, it’s you.”

I smiled and leaned into his chest. “That’s true. I’ve lived on shitty odds ever since I asked Tommy Reynolds to the Sadie Hawkins Dance in high school.”

Deacon snorted. “What did he say?”

I laughed. “He said no.”

He kissed me on the forehead. “When this is all over, I’ll find Tommy Reynolds and tell him he’s a damn fool.”

Chapter Nine

The driver’s seat of the sturdy old truck had begun to feel like a second home. I stared out at yet another empty stretch of highway as we headed west on Interstate 76. Instead of Frank, I’d opted for Deacon as my copilot, and so far, we had focused mostly on what flashed by outside the windows.

Aside from our brief touchdown mid-flight to Washington, this was our first real foray into the interior of the country. My hands on the wheel were a little tense, and I swiveled my head constantly in response to the tension I felt.

So far, the signs hadn’t been very promising. The ongoing war had left its mark everywhere, even on the road. We skirted huge craters, downed trees, and piles of burned-out cars that stretched for miles. Once the forests gave way to farm country, blood was visible, splashed all across the barren, snowy fields. There were occasional bodies, too, most of them frozen like grotesque mannequins.

Deacon scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s been months, but sometimes, it still hits me real hard that this is the world now.” We passed a spray of abandoned belongings scattered in a ditch off the shoulder. The blank eyes of a dirty stuffed animal watched us pass. “Shit like that makes me wonder if we’ll ever see normal again.”

“I think we’ll get there,” I said. “It won’t be easy. And it probably won’t look the way it did before, but that’s fine. Marcus has seen a hundred different versions of normal over the course of his existence. If things go our way, he’ll see hundreds more.”

“That’s a decent outlook,” he conceded. “It doesn’t really do much for us in the here and now, though.” He gazed out the window at the devastated landscape. The exposed joists of a huge, ruined barn protruded into the sky. “I like to think there’ll be a place and time for us to settle down.”

I nodded. “There will be. I can’t tell you that we’ll have the neat little suburban house with the picket fence and the tree in the backyard, but we’ll have something. And that it will be enough.”

He squeezed my hand. “The thought of you in the suburbs is terrifying. Curlers in your hair, driving a minivan…no thanks.”

I grinned at him. “I figured that’s what you would envision, Mr. Hopeless Romantic.”

“I’m romantic,” Deacon said. “I’m not delusional.”

“Good to know.” I took my left hand off the wheel and waggled my fingers at him. “You’ll still get me some ice, though, right? I mean, someone ought to try to make an honest woman out of me.”

He raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Did you just say ‘ice?’ Maybe you’re more suburban than I thought.”

I laughed. “Would you prefer I say ‘bling?’”

He made a face. “Ugh, no. Christ, did you get your slang from Marcus?”

“No,” I said. “Why?”

Deacon smiled and shook his head. “Because it’s as ancient as fuck.”

Three hours into the drive, my eye caught sight of a distinctive black column of smoke that rose ahead of us and off to the right. Large, birdlike shapes circled high above it and dove in and out of the plume.

“I don’t like that,” I muttered.

“We should check it out.”

I radioed our intentions to the vehicle behind us and took the next exit off the interstate, which appeared to lead directly toward the base of the swirling smoke. As we cruised down the ramp, the flying shapes came into better focus and I realized they weren’t birds at all. They were harpies.

“Shit, we have a situation here,” I said. Immediately beyond the ramp, the streets were clogged with cars. Many of them were scorched and charred as usual, but a fair number were also crushed—from the top, not the front or back. Most of their windows had been blown out, and safety glass glittered over the streets.

I swerved and weaved through the mechanical carnage as we followed the signs to the outskirts of a small town—population just over a thousand. On the main street, the vehicles had been shoved unceremoniously to the side and formed a barrier of tires and smashed metal. The source of the black smoke we’d seen from the highway turned out to be buildings, including the town hall and the post office. Harpy screeches rattled the truck’s windows.

“Holy shit.” Deacon sat up abruptly and focused on something that lumbered from the wreckage of a residential building straight ahead. “Look at that big motherfucker.”

The creature straightened and shook debris from its shoulders. Rough, leathery skin stretched over heavy muscles. The long blade of a mean-looking machete glinted in its left hand and a misshapen club dangled from its right.

“Marcus and I saw a guy like that, way back when,” I said. “But he was simply fat. This one looks like he’s lived off protein shakes and steroids.” The ogre hefted its club across its massive shoulders and provided me a daunting display of biceps that were bigger than my head. “This will be a fun little side trip.” I pressed the button on my radio. “Hey, guys. When we stop, get out and fight. We can’t leave this place without clearing it.”

“Roger,” Maya answered. “Man, these things are ugly.”

We noticed more of them as we drove a little farther. They appeared to hunt through the structures that were left and literally broke through walls with their weapons and fists. One of them yanked a struggling human from a second-story window.

“Hell no!” I declared and accelerated sharply. “Who the fuck is running this shit show? He’s about to have some special guests.”

The main street led to a square near the center of the town. Obviously, it had been well maintained at one time, but it was in complete shambles now. The cobblestones were crushed and trodden in, which rendered the area little more than a broken, unstable pit. In the middle of this mess stood a super-ogre, two or three times the size of the others, naked to the waist, and enormously muscular. He wore a giant smile on his ugly face as he surveyed his new, wrecked dominion.

I parked the truck at the edge of the crumbling road. Into the radio, I said, “Time to crash this wild party.” After a deep breath, I opened my door and jumped out.

The sound of the truck doors slamming shut drew the large ogre’s attention. His toothy smile only intensified at our approach. He released a great, belched laugh. “Who is this?” he bellowed and squinted his bloodshot eyes. “Humans too stupid to run? Surely you don’t think you can stop me.” We moved steadily forward and picked our way cautiously over the ground. The giant threw his head back and laughed again. “Your idiotic courage is entertaining. Never mind that I could crush each of you like gnats beneath my thumb.”

I broke from the group and strode forward to crane my neck so I could look all the way up into his face. “Consider this an eviction notice,” I told him. “One way or another, you’ll leave today.”

“Stronger warriors than you have tried to move me without success.” His foul breath washed over me with every word but I stood my ground and held his gaze. “They learned quickly that I am indomitable!” He swept his hands out to encompass the square. “This is only the beginning for me. For you, it is the end.”

I swung the Gladius Solis into view. “I beg to differ.”

As soon as he felt the wash of heat from the sword’s burning blade, the mega-ogre stepped back. His eyes bulged in their sockets, fixed intently on the weapon in my hands. “It’s you,” he said, his tone no longer grandiose. He’d rapidly become fearful and I swore I saw his hands shake. His club clattered to the ground. “The god-killer. I thought he was lying. I thought the others were cowards to run.”

He took another step back.

“Sorry, pal,” I said and adjusted my grip on the hilt. “I’m as real as it gets.”

He threw a panicked glance over each shoulder. “Kill her!” he bellowed but his voice cracked. “Destroy the sword bearer. Now!”

Every one of his henchmen turned toward me and my comparatively tiny crew. Harpies screamed from above with claws outstretched. Maya turned faster than I’d ever seen her do it and snatched one of them out of the air to rip its wing off. The disembodied appendage was comprised of skin instead of feathers, stretched over the wing like a bat’s. The Were tossed the dead harpy aside, and I noticed its body was male. Things had changed, indeed.

I turned back to the ogre god and raised my sword, only to find that he’d already bolted across the square. His heavy footfalls kicked up thick clouds of dust to mingle with the smoke. I pulled my jacket over my face and gave chase as best I could, but the small fries bogged me down. They formed a close circle around me and their eyes gleamed with malice.

“Don’t worry, boys,” I told them. “I’ll save a dance for every one of you.” The sword sizzled every time it burned through their hide. The dark, sludgy blood that spilled from the wounds smelled like a sewer. Ogre limbs rained down around me. These guys were easy, and they were simply a waste of time. I wanted their leader.

I sliced one monster cleanly in half, broke out of the circle, and raced in the direction in which I’d last seen the ogre god. A shadow fell over me and the scream of an incoming harpy tortured my ears. I readied the sword in my right hand, ready to slash backward. The sharp retort of a pistol cut the scream off and the harpy dropped to the ground at my heels.

Steph yelled, “Now you’re simply showing off, St. Clare!”

I couldn’t help but smile, even though I’d lost track of my quarry. The smog was too thick to see very far, and all the shrieks had made me practically deaf. I slowed, turned, and headed back toward the others. The ogre meant nothing, but I still felt the sting of disappointment in my chest. It would have been so satisfying to see that hideous head roll off into the fields.

Steph met me in the square with one foot planted atop a recently fallen foe. She took aim at a harpy and picked it out of the sky as I approached. We both tracked its descent onto the curb twenty feet away.

“Nice shot,” I said.

“Tell that to Deacon,” she responded with a grin. “It’ll hurt more if it comes from you.” She rested a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, don’t stress about losing that pile of walking bullshit, all right? I’ve fought evil in one form or another all my life. You can’t win ʼem all exactly the way you want to. And sometimes, it turns out to be better that way.”

“Yeah.” We headed back to the vehicles together and left a trail of Forgotten corpses behind us. Maya and Frank were already there and Deacon followed close behind. I paused at the truck door and looked over the roof toward the west. “It’s a good thing there’s only one fight I need to win now.”

Chapter Ten

Deacon offered to drive for the second leg of the journey, but I declined. Being behind the wheel was comforting in a control-freak kind of way. As long as I steered the truck, I didn’t feel that I barreled headlong into some bleak destiny or insurmountable obstacle. If I could steer, I could put us on a winning path.

Or so I hoped.

“Hey.” Deacon’s low voice intruded warmly on my thoughts. He touched his fingers to the outside of my wrist. “How are you feeling? Are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “With driving, I mean.”

He looked at me, both patient and expectant.

I sighed. “This is the biggest thing I’ve ever faced in my life,” I said. “I don’t know how I feel, except maybe that I’m standing on the edge of a cliff at the end of the world, and below me is…what? Darkness? A void? A safe place to land? There’s no way to know for sure until I jump, and that’s as scary as shit.” I glanced at him, and he nodded. “But at the same time, I know I can’t back down. I’ve been called to this. It’s taken a while, but I finally learned that to ignore your calling is the worst thing you can do. Especially if it involves saving all of humanity.”

Deacon leaned back in his seat. “If that’s the case, then I think my true calling was to be a horse trainer.”

I smirked. “It sounds like you might need to find a different girl, cowboy.”

He spent a good ten minutes insisting that there was a marked difference between trainers and cowboys. I remained unconvinced.

After that, we lapsed into companionable silence. I had never been the sappy, hold-hands-in-the-car sort of girl, but I did think about it once or twice. For a while, he seemed to doze.

Then he said, “Man, I hope we’re ready for this.”

I shot him a look. “You’re the one who was all, ‘no one’s got this more than you,’ before we left.”

He scratched his chin. “Yeah, but I was talking about you. It’s the rest of us I’m not so sure about.” An undercurrent of genuine fear belied his half-joking tone.

“Relax,” I said. “It’ll be a piece of cake.”

He pulled a face. “I don’t know about that. The meeting in D.C. made it sound pretty damn hard.”

I caught his eye and bit my lip. “I guarantee I’ve done harder. Maybe not bigger, but definitely harder.”

He tried to keep his cool, but his poker face failed him. We both cracked up.

“I have to say, Vic, I’m as glad as hell to be doing this with you.” He took my hand off the wheel, kissed my knuckles, and replaced it. I didn’t tell him I thought he was right to wonder about our level of preparedness or even right to worry, period.

I had stared at the blank, flat line of the horizon for hours and monitored it for changes that never came. It was almost refreshing when we traversed a rare bend and saw something blocking the view. The first thing I thought was that someone had decided to build a brick wall smack in the middle of the highway. But when we moved closer, I realized there was something familiar about the texture of the material.

Crushed cars had been stacked one on top of the other, impossibly high. I could barely see the top of the metal monolith. I eased down on the brakes and marveled at the sheer scale of the thing. The truck coasted closer.

Deacon shouted, “Watch out!”

I snapped my head to the side in time to see a huge foot slam down alongside our vehicle. My foot jammed hard on the brake pedal. We screeched to a stop and stared at a giant. He was naked except for a dingy loincloth and was covered in hair from head to toe. His mile-thick skull held only one eye. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem to care about the truck.

“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. I shifted the vehicle into park and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Stay put for a second. I’ll handle this. I don’t think it’ll take very long.”

“Go get ʼem,” he said.

I scrambled down from the cab and made my way cautiously toward the mammoth humanoid. He seemed to walk with purpose, and as I rounded the truck, I noticed his friend standing on the opposite side of the road.

The second giant gestured rudely. “What you doing, moron?” he demanded and the words rolled out slowly. “I leave you to guard wall. You wander off. Next time I find you’ve walked away, I’ll bash your ugly head in!”

The first giant reciprocated with an obscene gesture. His middle finger alone was almost as tall as I was and his club was actually a raw tree slung across his back. “Like to see you try,” he retorted. “Road empty. No one disturb huge wall. I bored.” To emphasize his point, he stamped his foot. A miniature dust storm flurried around me. “You bash my head, I kick your dick. We see who laughs then.”

I coughed and brushed sediment out of my hair and off my clothes. “Hey!” I shouted. “What are you two lunkheads doing here blocking the road?”

The giant nearest to me whirled and I had to dodge the edge of his club. I leapt back as a barrage of splinters flew in my direction.

“Human!” he proclaimed and looked surprised.

The other one shambled forward. “Go back to where you came from, puny human. This area not safe for tiny things.”

“We’ll see about that.” I whipped my sword out and lit it up. “Beat it, Andre and friend.”

The giants froze. They blinked their mono-eyes at me, equal parts afraid and confused. But they didn’t budge an inch. “Sorry, tiny human woman,” said the first. “No can do.”

“Captain’s orders,” added the other.

I gritted my teeth. “Fine. I warned you.” With the sword held high, I moved into their range. The two gigantic creatures hesitated but raised their clubs in response.

“Hold it, you knuckle-fucks,” a voice instructed from the opposite side of the car heap. “Leave this one alone. She’s with me.”

We all paused and looked toward the sound. I wracked my brain in an effort to think of whom it could be. The last I’d checked, I didn’t know anyone in the middle of bumfuck nowhere.

Then I saw the edge of a long black coat. Brax stepped out from the cover of the barricade with his sunglasses on and arms folded. We stared at each other, and I burst into laughter. “Oh, shit!”

“Brax!” A blonde blur tumbled out of the other truck and streaked past on my left to fly into the demon’s arms. He embraced Jules with as much passion as I’d ever seen from him, and they shared a deep, intense kiss. I looked away for privacy’s sake.

“Falling for him, my ass,” I muttered. “You guys are balls deep.”

I let them kiss it out for a minute or two before I moved in on the happy reunion. “Excuse me for breaking in on your warm and fuzzies,” I said. “But what in the hell is going on?”

Brax shrugged, although he didn’t release Jules. “When we got back to the fort, I received word that giants roamed around the Midwest. Two of them. Real geniuses, clearly.” He glanced at the creatures who watched the whole display with mild confusion. “I knew two of these guys in Asphodel and I’d heard they got out, so I went to see if the stars had aligned. As it turns out, they had, but they were in trouble when I found them. I guess Delano’s not a fan of anything bigger than he is.”

“Brax helped,” said a giant. “He captain now.”

“I repaid a favor,” the demon explained. “I killed the horde that was hunting them, and they told me Delano had a temple fortress not too far from here.” He nodded toward the car monument. “I had them make that to keep anyone from getting through. They weren’t kidding about it being too dangerous for humans past this point.”

“Most humans,” I corrected him. “That happens to be exactly where I need to go.”

A grin broke out on his face. He looked at me, down at Jules, and finally at the two giants. “It looks like you’re on your own for now, boys. Do the old captain a favor and carry on, all right? No one else comes through here. Humans need to be protected.”

“What about that one?” the first giant asked. “And that one.” He pointed at me and Jules.

Brax planted another kiss on Jules. “I’ve got this one,” he said. He jerked his thumb at me. “That one can take care of herself. She would’ve thrashed the shit out of you if I let her.”

They frowned and trudged away to take up posts on either side of the wall. Brax and Jules retreated to their truck, smiling like goons into each other’s eyes. As I slipped behind the wheel, I heard a loud, metallic, grating sound as the giants peeled the cars apart to allow us through.

“Was that Brax?” Deacon asked. “And Jules?”

“Yep.” I started the engine. “Long, weird story.”

“Damn,” he said. “Demons get around.”

Chapter Eleven

Almost nine hours after we left Pennsylvania, our battle caravan drove into a shadow that spread like a thick dark blanket across the Midwestern cornfields. The menacing, craggy shape of a mountain jutted from the flatlands, surrounded by absolutely nothing. None of us needed to be told that it hadn’t been created by any natural force. There were no damn mountains of any kind in Indiana.

Especially not mountains with temples on top.

It was large enough that we could see part of it from where we stood—a soaring, many-columned thing perched precariously on the plateau at the mountain’s zenith. In a twisted way, it reminded me of the Lincoln Memorial, as if someone had built a tainted caricature. The glittering silver threads of a waterfall poured off the sheer northern side and vaporized into mist that cloaked the base of the landmass.

We looked at each other. “This is our stop,” I said.

“Don’t kill me for this,” Frank said, “but it’s pretty fucking cool.”

Steph shot him the dirtiest look I’d ever seen, even from her. “You’re a pig,” she told him. “Don’t compliment the enemy.”

The vampire threw his hands up. “I was speaking from a friggin’ architectural standpoint. Sue me for thinking the scumbag’s mountaintop lair is a slick piece of work.”

“That’s an idea,” Steph said. She turned to Jules. “You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?”

Frank groaned. “Give me a break, woman. I swear I can’t go ten minutes without you busting my balls.”

Jules stifled a laugh. “I’m not that kind of lawyer,” she said apologetically. “I can definitely refer you, though.”

“Excellent.” The FBI agent threw a pointed glance in Frank’s direction. “I’ll keep that in mind. For the future.”

“All right.” I clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “Let me interrupt you for a minute so we can discuss the game plan.” I gestured toward the temple on the peak. “We currently stand on the long approach to Delano’s temple. This is where we’ve arranged to meet with the team from D.C. When they get here, we’ll go in and assassinate that slimy fucker. Then we call in his men after word gets out that Delano is dead because the shit will hit the fan in a major way. Are we all clear?” A murmur of general assent rippled around the circle. I smiled. “Good. Now, I guess we wait.”

Idle conversation resumed. I looked at my watch. We had actually turned up a little later than we’d arranged but there was no sign of the smoking man or any of his cohorts. I hoped they hadn’t run into anything meaner than ogres or bigger than giants on their way.

Fret not, Victoria. This smoking man strikes me as one who lives by his own parameters. I have no doubt he will get by just fine.

I frowned. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better.” Everyone else seemed to enjoy the downtime, so I tried to force a veneer of calm over my expression. Deacon sauntered over and slipped an arm around my waist.

“Hurry up and wait,” he said. “It’s always the way.”

I folded my arms but a corner of my cool façade had already slipped. He had a way of bringing all my feelings to the forefront, whether I liked it or not. “He should be here by now,” I said. “It’s not like we were early.”

Deacon looked at the road and down the way we had come. “Yeah, well, he’s on bureaucracy time. You know as well as I do that they do whatever they want, however they want. Everyone else’s schedules can pack it off to hell.”

I made a noise of disgust and irritation. Hours of uninterrupted introspection in the truck had already frayed my nerves and now, I felt like I was tightrope walking along power lines.

“We’re not meeting up for a fucking lunch date,” I said.

He rubbed my shoulder. “I know that, and trust me, I know how big a deal this is. But we need his help, Vic. There’s no way we can go in alone and expect to come out of there alive. Nobody’s said as much, but everyone knows it. We have to wait.” He turned to face me directly. “Take a deep breath, babe. It’s gonna be okay. They were probably held up dealing with the same kind of dumb bullshit we ran into.”

I gazed into Deacon’s dark eyes and felt the monumental pressure of the world fall away for a few seconds. All the storm clouds that had gradually accumulated in my head blew away. I leaned in and put my arms around him.

“That’s the first time you’ve ever called me babe,” I mumbled into his chest.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, it is.” He hesitated. “Too weird?”

I tilted my head to the side, my cheek against his amazingly solid pecs, and grinned at him. “I’ll be honest. If you were any other guy, I’d have knocked your block off the moment it came out of your mouth. But I can let it slide this time.”

“Thanks.” He touched my cheek. “I’m pretty attached to this old block.”

“Yeah.” I stood on my toes and kissed him gently. “Me too.”

The minutes transformed slowly into hours as we waited under the vast Indiana sky. The sun, which had hung low over the horizon on arrival, disappeared completely behind the opaque mass of Delano’s mountain and a wave of fresh cold swept in. Frank, Maya, and Steph, who had waged snowball wars in the dregs of the afternoon light, had to stop for lack of visibility.

I took another peek at my watch. “Where the hell is this guy?” I asked out loud to no one in particular. “He turns up everywhere else uninvited. He should be here by now.”

While I understand your impatience, I maintain that it would be unwise to attempt the operation without the agreed-upon reinforcements present, said Marcus.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong about that but look at how much time we’ve lost.” I jabbed my hand at the rapidly darkening sky. “Delano could be doing anything in there while we dick around in some shitty cornfield and wait for our buddies. By the time we get in there, it could be too late.”

I am confident that we would know the moment our window of opportunity closed. Delano has lost much of his subtlety in recent weeks.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean we can stand here with our thumbs up our asses.” I kicked at a clump of snow.

“Maybe he decided it would be better to go in at night,” Maya suggested and hugged herself against the cold.

“Then he shouldn’t have told us to meet him in the fucking afternoon.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and willed my temper not to flare. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. I can’t help feeling that we’ve been stood up.”

“I get it.” The Were adjusted her coat. “We have waited here a long time.”

Brax shoved open the door of the truck where he and Jules had been holed up together. “Are we doing this or not?” he asked as he strode across the frozen ground. Jules was right behind him.

I looked toward the foreboding outline of the mountain which somehow seemed darker than the surrounding night. Delano’s temple blazed with lights like an arrogant, defiant beacon. “You know what?” I cracked my knuckles and then my neck. “Screw it. We’re going in.”

“That’s what I’m talking about!” The demon grinned, obviously ready for action. I made a brief survey of my small, dedicated team. Maya gave me a thumbs-up. Steph checked her gun. Frank shrugged and nodded.

Deacon said, “That might not be the best idea.”

All eyes went instantly to him, including mine. I refused to admit that his sudden lack of faith made me both hurt and angry—he didn’t have to say that in front of the whole crew, at least. “I got this, remember?” I asked pointedly.

“For the second time, it’s not because of you,” he replied. “Do you really want to make this guy into a wildcard out here? Let’s say we leave, he shows up, and we’re gone. He could make all kinds of crazy assumptions about why he thinks we didn’t show. If he tells his network we double-crossed him, we’ll be in serious trouble.”

Deacon’s concerns have merit, said Marcus. This enigmatic man could quickly turn into an uncontrollable variable.

“We’ll leave him a note,” I said tersely. “Piss it into the damn snow for all I care. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. We need to do this, and we need to do it now.”

“Hear, hear,” Brax said gruffly. “Are you in or out, Feddie?”

Deacon held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. You’re the boss. I’m all the way in.”

“So am I,” said Jules.

Brax and I glanced at her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said stubbornly. “You’ll need someone to get out and get help should things go south.” The fiery determination in her eyes was one I’d seen a billion times over the course of our friendship. She had her mind made up.

Still, the idea of throwing her into the deep end made my stomach churn. I turned toward Brax. He wasn’t happy, but he held her hand tightly. “I’ll protect her,” he said. “With my life.”

I nodded solemnly. “I’ll hold you to that.” I glanced at the rest of the group. “It’s time to go.”

We set off across the field and directly toward the foot of the god-made mountain.

Chapter Twelve

The temple approach was a couple of miles long by the GPS’s estimate, and the plan was to sneak through as much of it as possible. We remained low and quiet for the first mile, our eyes and ears alert for the slightest hint of hostile life. The area appeared to be completely devoid of anything except us. Which was great, because no matter how carefully we moved, the crunch of our boots in the snow might as well have been gunshots to my hypersensitive ears.

At the one-mile mark, the scene changed. Frosted dead leaves and a thin, crusty snowpack gave way abruptly to scorched earth littered with cinders. Not a single blade of grass grew as far as the eye could see, right up to the start of the mountain climb. The fire that had scoured the landscape had burned fast and hot before it died. Its mark was everywhere.

Brax grunted. “It looks like Asphodel, although the cold’s an improvement.”

“Speak for yourself,” Frank said. He’d swapped his old hat for a grey woolen winter cap that he pulled down over his ears. “I’ve never known any other kind of winter, and it still makes me want to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge.”

A sardonic smile crept onto the demon’s face. “That’s what happens when you lose all your insulation.”

The vampire barked out a laugh. “Asshole.”

“Cool it, you pricks,” Steph hissed. “Let’s try to get inside before we fuck it up.”

Frank dropped back to walk beside her and made a big show of checking behind her back.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“Looking to see if you grew wings when I wasn’t looking,” he said. “Those harpies could use a new recruit after what Vic did to ʼem.” He smiled widely and kissed her on the cheek.

“Ugh, you are such a goon.” She tried not to smile but it didn’t quite work. “Seriously, shut your pie hole. The closer we can get without them noticing, the better off we’ll be.”

Frank saluted. “Yes, ma’am.” He actually did shut his mouth and remained close by her side. I caught Steph’s eye and gave her a nod of silent approval. She winked.

The road snaked to the foot of the crag. A weird shape protruded from the sooty ashes in the shallow ditch alongside the shoulder.

Frank mentioned it first. “What the hell is that thing?” He had already veered off to take a look and we all gravitated toward his trajectory. It proved to be larger than I’d expected, and soon, I was close enough to identify the protruding piece as a limb, now stiff with rigor mortis. The muscles had shriveled inside a strangely olive-toned skin.

The vampire reached the edge of the depression and looked down. He whistled. A moment later, I stepped beside him. There was no mistaking the corpse sprawled on the blackened dirt. Beleza’s eyes were open and so was his mouth. His features clung to the gaunt frame of his skull, and his once voluminous hair was lank and dull. He had been drained and his withered husk left to rot in the open.

A very bad omen, Marcus intoned. Although I am not sure Beleza could have mustered much of a fight. He was never very warlike.

I thought about the way Beleza had clashed with me and I had to agree. Even if he had fought back, at this point, a punch was likely the same as a tickle to Delano.

“Keep going,” I whispered to my team. “But be careful.”

The mountain grew larger as we approached until it was all we could see. Its surface was rough and crumbly, made of stones and boulders packed in dirt. It was like Delano had simply ordered his thralls to mound up the earth as high as they could make it. I realized that it might be more treacherous to climb it than I’d expected.

The mountain itself, however, quickly became a secondary concern. Voices floated toward us through the shadows from the right. I signaled for everyone to hit the dirt. We sprawled on our stomachs and held a collective breath. The chill seeped in through the front of my coat but I waited despite the discomfort.

The voices came from a patrol unit made up of a cadre of satyrs. We heard their peals of braying laughter long before they entered striking range. Like always, they held a variety of spray-and-pray guns to their skinny chests. Most of them no longer hid their hooves. The stench of booze drifted to my nostrils—so strong that one of them must have had an open container. I shrugged, unfazed by that. A drunk enemy was a dead one.

I raised a closed fist to my crew. We held our position until the unit crossed almost directly in front of us and we ambushed them from the darkness. All but one dropped instantly. A few shots rattled off in the eerie silence, but the skirmish was over within a minute. They hadn’t stood a fraction of a chance.

I knelt on the chest of the sole survivor and my blade shriveled the coarse hair that covered his throat. He was crying and snot ran down his boorish face, his fear naked in his eyes.

“I guess a good security detail wasn’t in the budget,” I remarked. “Tell me the best way to get inside and I might not kill you.”

He sniffed and with a surprising show of boldness, sneered through his tears. “Usually, I’d make you buy me dinner first.”

I drew back my hand and whipped him across the face with the butt of the Gladius Solis, so fast he didn’t have time to flinch. “Cut the crap, Casanova,” I ordered. “Murder’s still on the table.”

He issued a pitiful yelp as his head rolled back to center. A deep red mark bloomed on his cheekbone. The next time he spoke, blood colored his teeth, and the words were slightly garbled. “South side,” he mumbled. His terrified gaze was fixed on my sword hand. “It’s the weakest. They only put one patrol out there because that’s where they process all the slaves.”

I smiled sweetly. “See? That’s all you had to say.”

I knocked him out cold.

I straightened and turned to the group. “Hear that? You guys head south. Try to keep a low profile but be ready to free any slaves you see. The supply chain that feeds this place needs to be severed as quickly as possible.”

“You’re not coming with us?” Maya asked. She scowled her disapproved.

I shook my head. “I’ll take the north side express to the temple. Delano’s about to get a nasty little surprise.”

“Are you crazy?” Frank erupted. “That’s a one-way ticket. We’re supposed to be in the shit together, Vic.” The others echoed this sentiment and the volume swelled.

“There’s no way we can let you go off alone,” Maya insisted. “Not this time. Delano’s a different breed.”

“I know,” I said. Strangely, all my prior anxieties had been replaced by a sense of energized serenity. It was the way I always felt when I knew I was about to get shit done. “But you’ll have to trust me on this. I’ll be fine, and you will be too. We’ll meet up on the flip side, okay? This is a fight I need to take on my own.”

“Bullshit,” Brax said. “I won’t fight you on this but I want you to know you’re full of it.” He stared hard at me and his gaze somehow seemed to pierce through the sunglasses he still wore on his face. I wondered if he knew I had thought about what both Marcus and the smoking man had said about trusting my friends too deeply. When this was all over, maybe I’d have to ask him to forgive me.

But it wasn’t over yet, and we were running out of time.

“Vic, why?” Jules gave me a searching, confused look. I wanted to answer her, but the arrival of a second patrol prevented it. My team assumed battle stations in record time and channeled their emotions into a furious, whirlwind attack. Blood and scraggly patches of satyr fur were soon scattered over the vicinity.

“You’re really doing this,” Steph said. She examined me closely, her face as impassive as ever.

“Yeah,” I said.

She sighed. “You’re one crazy bitch, but I’m rooting for you.”

I smirked. “Thanks. Like I said, trust me. This is the way it has to be.”

Maya came forward and hugged me with all her considerable strength. “I hate this,” she said. “And I want you to know that. But I have faith that you know what you’re doing.”

Jules came next. She didn’t say anything and her gaze, brighter than usual, remained on my face. Frank cleared his throat. “Good luck, kid,” he said quietly. “I better be seeing you.”

Steph laid her hand on my shoulder. “Fucking kill that son of a bitch,” she said. “For all of us.”

Deacon waited until the others had spoken before he pulled me aside. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” he said. “Don’t do anything stupider than usual. I need you to come through this.”

I smiled. “Otherwise, you’ll have to try online dating. You know, when the Internet’s fixed.”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “I’m gonna miss you.”

“Hey.” I feigned injury. “Give me a little more credit than that. I’m not dead yet.”

The sadness in his eyes didn’t shift, and that made me sorrier than anything else had done in a long time. I wished I could soothe his worries and tell him he was overreacting. But the truth was, I couldn’t. The odds, as Marcus had said, were slim.

If I didn’t win, I would die.

Deacon leaned down to place his lips against mine. I stopped him gently. “Save it for when that bastard’s dead.”

“I’ll take that as a promise,” he replied. He released me, turned back to the others, and walked away to rejoin them.

That may have been callous of you, Victoria, Marcus said reproachfully.

“No,” I answered. “It’s a little extra motivation. For both of us.”

Chapter Thirteen

The north side of the mountain was easy to locate on account of the dense mist that cloaked the face. Visibility in the cloud was sharply reduced, but I could hear the waterfall over my head and I used that to guide me. There were plenty of handholds in the face of the cliff. I didn’t let the fact that they were slick with condensation deter me from my goal. As soon as I found a starting point, I pulled myself up, and the ground began to fall away as I moved steadily upward.

Gradually, the fog dissipated as well. The smell of wet earth filled my nose and frigid drops of water dripped constantly into my eyes. I trained all my focus on the climb for the first fifty feet or so until my hand gripped the top of a broad ledge. Half a second later, shards of pain knifed down my arm as someone out of my line of sight stepped hard on my fingers.

I clenched my teeth and powered through the pain to lever myself onto the ledge. A boot-clad foot lurched toward me but I caught it in one hand and rolled to the very edge of the precipice. My free arm swung into open air and I fought the powerful instinct to look down.

“Well, well.” The voice that hovered above me was low and grating, the verbal equivalent of rock on rock. It belonged to a stocky, broad-faced man with stubby horns on his head. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

He squared his stance and his bumpy skin reminded me of a toad.

“I dragged myself up here, thank you very much,” I said. “And thanks for stepping on my fingers. You’re lucky I have five others.” I examined my injured hand quickly. My thumb, index, and middle fingers were swollen although they didn’t hurt that much. I flexed them gingerly.

“Who are you, anyway?” I asked. My hope was that some inane small talk might allow me an opportunity to take him by surprise. The last thing I wanted was for him to raise the alarm while I was still this low on the mountain.

“Don’t matter who I am,” he replied as he brandished a long, thin staff. “This is as far as you’ll go.”

I drew the Gladius Solis in response. “Spoken like a true dickhead who’s never met me before.”

The blade illuminated his lumpy face but he didn’t bat an eyelash. His staff swung at me with a speed that would have been dizzying for anyone else. I blocked his strikes with equal agility and new notches smoked on the sides of his staff.

“Nice try,” I said.

The guard gritted his teeth and hunched into a brawler’s posture. He attacked once more, but his weakened weapon snapped into pieces instead of making the impact he’d intended. I rammed the tip of my sword into the ground and used it to vault over him. He skidded toward the cliff edge. One foot went over and he seemed to hover a moment before the rest of his body pitched after, a prisoner to momentum. He twisted at the last minute and grabbed the ledge.

“Well, well,” I said and stood over him. “Look what the cat’s about to toss out.” Rather than step on his fingers, I chose to cut them off. His shriek of pain transformed instantly into one of terror as he plunged to his death.

The ledge on which I found myself ran the entire way around the mountain. As far as I could tell, it served as a catwalk for the security that still seemed oddly lax. The mountain was wide enough that I knew there had to be other guards who patrolled at this level, but I didn’t want to waste more time by dealing with them. I extinguished the sword and headed for the vertical path hewn out of the rock. When I craned my head back, I could pick out an obvious route, probably the most popular among Delano’s personnel—and most likely also the most efficient.

Without the choking cloak of mist, the climb was actually fairly pleasant. The presence of the patrol ledges mitigated the threat of height to some extent, and I settled into a good rhythm. It hadn’t taken long for my body to adjust to vertical movement. This part was easy.

“Do you have any idea what that guy was?” I asked Marcus as I pulled my way upward. “I don’t remember a toad god.”

By my estimate, he was a hybrid. Perhaps a demon such as Abraxzael mixed with some other infernal creature. I expect we will see many more of these unorthodox creations as we proceed. There have been misfits throughout the annals of the gods’ history, often easily manipulated for a cause.

“But now Delano’s making it trendy,” I muttered. “Figures.”

Delano’s method manages to transfer the god’s power without diluting it. I assume this is because he bypasses blood and genetics entirely.

“Heh.” I wiped my hair out of my eyes. “When in doubt, consume.”

That seems to be his rationale, yes.

I paused briefly to get my bearings and tried to gauge how far I had yet to go. It was difficult to tell. “Even his stupid lair has to be a pain in the ass,” I said.

I am proud of you for choosing to face it alone, said Marcus. I am sure it was a painful conclusion to reach, but it is the wisest course of action.

“I hope so.” There was a knot in my stomach that simply wouldn’t go away. “I know you’re positive, and I’m glad about that, at least. But no matter which way I look at it, I feel like I might’ve made a horrible mistake. It’s like the classic, ‘what if he wants to split us up’ kind of worry. Like, maybe I played right into his hands.”

As you said before, this is a risk that must be taken. I cannot overemphasize Delano’s greatness, as much as I despise doing so. His current form is superior to anything I have ever witnessed, either on this earth or in the realm of the gods. The spirits of your friends, strong as they may be, would be crushed by his mere presence.

I frowned. “Dude, what the fuck? You don’t have to write me a poem about the guy. He’s the one we hate.”

I believe he has met his match in you. You, too, are like nothing I have beheld in my ages of life among humanity. If Delano is the darkness, you are the light. And you will snuff him out.

“That’s more like it,” I said.

He went on. Even if you should fail, the bards will sing your praises for eternity—a hero the likes of which the world has never known and will never know again.

I laughed and shook my head slightly. “And we’re back to no good. I need you to be my hype man right now, Marcus. Talk about my honor and all that other shit you love to go on about. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather stay off the bards’ medieval pop charts.”

I thought you would enjoy being the subject of a drinking song.

“Not as much as I’d enjoy living to a ripe old age. What kind of woman do you take me for, anyway?”

The kind who is capable of bringing down the god to end all gods.

I fumbled upward and grasped the next ledge. “Good answer.”

Steeling my nerves for whatever I might see, I hauled myself up and over.

At first, I encountered nothing but a weird, musty smell. I stood still, my sword at the ready, and peered into the inky well of shadows in front of me. The wall went back much farther, almost like a cave. The sounds of shuffling and creepy, non-verbal moans met my ears. Shapes like bodies materialized from the void. I felt the hair stand up on my arms and the back of my neck.

“Oh, hell no,” I whispered.

Shambling toward me was a small herd of Beleza’s former henchmen, but they were shells of their former selves. Gone were the rich tans and toned muscles, now replaced by greyish, sagging skin stretched over skeletons. Like their late god, they had shriveled significantly. The tatters of their skimpy underwear clung to their hips. They moved en masse, their eyes milky and blank and their jaws slack. And in the middle, guiding them along, was their shepherd. I recognized the tall, gruesomely thin figure from a parking lot in a small town outside the Delaware Water Gap. The last I’d seen of him, he was running away as a horde of zombies came between us.

“You,” said the god. His mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile. “How serendipitous it is to see you again.” The words blew over me in a rotten wind. “Tell me. Are you still in the business of killing gods?”

“Yes.” I withdrew the Gladius Solis as proof. “And business is booming.”

He chuckled. A weird note of some emotion floated underneath. Sadness maybe, or wistfulness. “Once, I would have mocked you for daring to think you could kill me.” He fixed his vacant eyes on my face, and white sparks seemed to dance in colorless pools. “Now, I can only hope you will succeed.”

He raised his hands and thrust them forward. The members of his horde rushed at me.

This is most unusual, Marcus remarked in a tone of voice that made me think he really meant to say, “fucked up.” I swept my sword in a quick, brutal circle and cleaved the first wave of Beleza’s fallen followers in half. They clattered to the ground and froze weakly into pitiful approximations of statues. But those final forms were brittle and unsustainable, even in death. They crumbled beneath the feet of their brethren, who were cut down just as quickly.

I looked through the melee at the zombie god. He stood listlessly at the back and went through the motions of directing the remaining mob. I slashed at the final few and advanced on the corporeal specter. He was at least eight feet tall, his head stooped beneath the ceiling of the hollowed cavern.

“You can do better than that,” I said. “Come on.” My brain told me I was wasting time I didn’t have, but the god’s utter sense of defeat fascinated me. I’d never seen one beaten down and yet still alive.

“There is no use in trying,” he told me. “For the final time, I have been passed over and relegated into a position of insignificance. If I endure, I shall be forced to bear witness to Delano’s gross abuse of the power he never earned. I would rather be obliterated than exist this way, a roach in a hall of kings.”

“Damn,” I said. “You’re still an asshole, though.”

He shrugged and seemed to acknowledge the statement. “For my actions, I do not and cannot repent. Humanity is a plague to be purged. But you?” The god extended a long finger as if to touch me. “You are more than that, for a simple human cannot kill even a god such as I. Still, I have yearned to meet you again.”

I lifted the sword. “Fight me, and I’ll kill you.”

“Why should I fight?” asked the god. “It would only prolong the end which I desire.” He stared emptily into my face. “No. There is no more struggle to be had. There is only ruin.” The folds of the tattered cloak swept open to reveal the black heart I hadn’t pierced in our first fight. He was silent, motionless, and docile. I summoned the blade and stepped toward the broken god. When I was close enough, he knelt and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know where you’re going,” I said. “But I hope it sucks.”

The sword entered the heart in one swift movement. Its beat stuttered.

“Thank you,” he breathed. The heart convulsed and evaporated into nothing. The rest of the body rapidly followed suit. In a matter of seconds, all that was left was the ragged cloak.

“I think I like it better when they fight me,” I said.

Chapter Fourteen

Near the top of the mountain, the flow of cascading water became more of a torrent. I had to scramble to the side in order to circumvent most of the flood, but my arms and the front of my jacket were still soaked when I crested the final lip of the topmost plateau. I stood there for a moment to catch my breath and shake rivulets off my fingers as I gazed at the soaring spires of the temple.

Someone was clearly compensating for something.

I walked forward and scanned the vicinity for patrols. The entire plateau was deserted, except for one corner that protruded over the cliff face. A large boulder sat there, secured by chains that had been wound around the body of a fish-tailed, androgynous being. It was still alive and writhed in agony, its mouth twisted open in an everlasting scream.

The creature’s glimmering, scaled torso had been pierced by a spear, and the start of a thunderous waterfall poured from the wound. I looked down over the hundreds of feet I had climbed and realized that the water I’d seen on the way up was only runoff. The main fall dropped into the surging thread of a river far below.

This is horrific, Marcus proclaimed, and his words dripped with disgust.

I took an extra moment to examine the wretched water god with some amount of pity, but even if I’d wanted to, there was nothing I could do—not without announcing my presence. I turned away and walked toward the grand entrance to the temple’s main hall. The doors were already open and loomed above me. I felt judged as I passed between them.

Only dead silence lay on the other side. The hall was incredibly long, its vaulted ceilings painted with scores of swirling, colorful murals. The scenes burned with violent energy and depicted portrait after portrait of blood, death, and war.

I was hyperaware of the sounds created by my own body. My pulse thrummed in my ears. Each breath seemed to rush in and out of my lungs like a gale-force wind. Echoes danced from every corner of the vast chamber.

Delano’s hall was furnished with nothing besides an altar at the far end and pillars that rose to the roof, apparently with the sole purpose of enshrining another enormous door. Halfway across the creepily empty space, I noticed that each of the pillars was made of another conquered god.

I cursed under my breath. A few of them were unlike anything I’d ever seen before—or anything I could comprehend. They were ancient, ornate behemoths, frozen in the moments of their demise. One was missing its left eye.

“He killed all of these,” I said softly, unable to suppress the automatic rush of awe.

He has made them a part of his soul, Marcus said. They are dead and yet they live in him.

The thought of so many stolen souls locked up in Delano’s body made my stomach do a barrel roll. The corpse-pillars lined both sides of the center, all the way to that door. As I stared at it and wondered where it might lead, it opened. I half expected a decoy or an extended lead-up, but there was absolutely no mistaking the man—the myth, the legend.

I grimaced. “Someone’s been busy.”

Delano stepped down from the elevated threshold he had just crossed and onto the altar’s gleaming platform. The portal boomed shut behind him and its impact reverberated through the stillness. The changes in his form were apparent despite the distance. He had attained Beleza’s bronzed skin and some of his tone and height and a bright, baleful jewel glittered in the hollow between his eyes. A slender, whip-like tail curled around the backs of his legs and ended in a brutal barb. The pale eyes he’d always had now revealed slit pupils. His wings folded along the curve of his spine.

Neither of us said a word but our gazes locked. The air grew frosty, along with my mood. I already itched to be done with him.

“Game over, Delano,” I said and raised my voice to be heard at the other end of the hall. “You bought as much time as you could, and I’ll admit, it was a lot. But it’s running out now. You’re down to minutes. Soon, it’ll be seconds. And then, you’ll be finished for good. I’ve come to tie up Kronin’s last loose end.”

Delano smiled. “Brave words,” he said. “From a stupid woman.” He ambled slowly toward me and talked all the while. “I waited so long for you to understand, Vic, and still, you won’t oblige me. Allow me to enlighten you now that we’re here, face to face at last. Humans are weak. They are frail, breakable, and full of little more than blood and water. I have seen human bones ground into dust, their skin flayed off and left to dry as hide in the wind.”

“So humans are weak, which means we deserve to die?” I asked.

He laughed. “It means you’re irrelevant to my plans. I am stronger than any god who has traversed any earth. I am the sum of all that is mighty. The end of the world for many. And the sole reward for standing in defiance of such power is suffering the likes of which you cannot hope to imagine.”

His smile expanded into a grin. “But there is another way,” he said. “For I am a merciful lord and master. Follow me as you followed the coward Kronin into the futile darkness that now encompasses your planet. Fall to your knees and surrender. Offer supplication like all the others before you, and you will see that Kronin was but a speck of dust. I have become everything.”

I scowled. “Here’s something I learned a long time ago, dick-face. All gods can die. And you still don’t have this.” The Gladius Solis slipped into my hand and blazed to life. “It’s a power you’ll never be able to master.”

The god laughed as if he found me genuinely funny. “I beg to differ,” he said. “The sword of the gods is only as strong as its wielder. Why do you think it allowed Kronin to die? And now, the one who wields its blade is only human. A fitting end to Kronin’s sordid legacy. He loved your kind so much and finally, your kind will fail him. You will fail him.”

He stopped several paces away. “Come,” he said. “Let’s prove once and for all that you were never worthy to wield the Hero-King’s blade.”

He spread his arms, and the great black wings on his back unfurled in tandem.

Victoria, it is now or never.

I launched into the attack and a full-fledged war cry broke from my lungs. The sword traced a fiery trail in my wake. Flames danced along its edges and its power already flooded my hands and arms with glowing light.

The gap separating Delano and I disappeared in a flash—and then he was gone too. Black vapor clouded my vision to dissipate and condense ten yards to the left.

“You missed,” he said. “Now, it’s my turn.”

His wings whipped up a storm at ground level. I was shoved backward, my feet unable to find purchase on the smooth stone floor. A pillar caught my body in the stiff embrace of a dead god. High above, Delano opened his mouth wide. White-hot flames surged from his throat and rocketed toward me at breakneck speed.

“Are you kidding me with this shit?” I shouted. “When did he swallow a fucking dragon?”

Keep your wits about you, Marcus warned. Any strike has the potential to kill.

His warning galvanized me into action, and I dropped instantly and rolled to the side. With a faint sizzle, the water still in my jacket evaporated immediately and part of the hem burned away. The exposed skin of my cheeks and chin felt seared and raw simply from the intensity of the heat.

I crouched behind the next pillar and poked my head out of cover as Delano disappeared yet again. Before I had the chance to try to pinpoint where he’d gone, his hand was on the back of my neck and long nails dug into my flesh.

Instinctively, I twisted and lashed out with the Gladius Solis. My skin tore like tissue paper, but I barely registered the pain. The sword bit deep into Delano’s side, but the wound it inflicted might as well have been a scratch. He hauled me off my feet by the back of my clothes, and in the next moment, I hurtled forward, literally in the air. When I finally landed, stars exploded in the void behind my clenched eyelids.

He had flung me around like a damn toy.

“This is how your quest ends,” Delano said. His shadow loomed over me as I struggled to stand. He reached out and caressed my face before he gripped it in iron fingers. “With humiliation, torment, and the abject ruins of your dignity.”

“I’m not dead yet.” I spat in his eye and leapt up to drive the point of my sword through his chest. Again, the edge somehow did no more than graze him.

He seized me by the sword arm and his skin hardened into shining, unbreakable rock. “You will be,” he said. My body catapulted over his shoulder with all the resistance of a ragdoll, but I managed to right myself and hit the ground running. We’d switched places during the course of the fight, and I saw the door on the altar directly ahead.

I bolted toward it.

“This isn’t working!” I told Marcus. “I need to find a better position to try to reset things more in my favor. It’s the only chance I’ve got.”

Would that I had my earthly body and could stand beside you against our common foe, he lamented. Feel no fear, Victoria. Whatever happens here, I shall see you at the end.

I vaulted up onto the grand altar and thrust headlong through the door. Delano’s mocking laughter followed me up the staircase I found behind it.

“Kronin’s sword reveals another coward,” he sang, his tone twisted by sadistic glee.

I didn’t stop. I couldn’t. The steps seemed to ascend forever but I finally burst through the top into the cold night air that slashed instantly through my damaged coat. I was headed straight for a low wall that marked the edge of the roof and I backpedaled in an effort to give myself as much room as possible. The formerly empty temple plateau spread out before me, now crowded with Delano’s worshippers. Soundlessly, they watched. The head start I’d attempted to gain was lost in the fraction of a second during which I attempted to avoid hurtling over the edge of the roof.

He came up behind me and clamped a hand on my right bicep. “Look upon those fortunate enough to know when they are bested.”

As I tried to pull away, he spun me and slapped the back of his hand across my face. I careened helplessly into the wall. The breath expelled sharply from my chest and my teeth literally rattled in my skull.

Delano stormed at me, his pale eyes full of unadulterated rage. The hatred radiated off him like a toxic cloud. This was the end he’d planned for me, but he hadn’t killed me yet.

And I’d spotted a weakness.

The sliver had been almost invisible before, situated across the left side of his chest over his heart. It was the only flaw in his obsessively perfect form, and I had a fleeting moment to take my shot. As the mega-god approached, I let the Gladius Solis fly like an arrow, straight and true.

Bullseye.

At least, it should have been. After I released the hilt, a shell began to thicken over that single weakness. New skin obscured the sliver and grew hard and reflective. It was still thin when the blade impacted but not weak enough. The sword protruded from where it hit, stopped in its deadly assault.

Delano screamed in pain, but it was no death rattle. He didn’t disintegrate into a pile of ash but instead, grabbed the sword in both hands. He yanked it out and at first, I believed that the blade had receded, perhaps in defiance. Then I realized it had simply turned black. He thrust it aloft as his maniacal, bellowed laughter shattered the starry sky.

When he had finished gloating, he turned toward me. “The sword of the gods,” he said. “The Gladius Solis is as strong as its wielder. Consider this a demonstration.”

He rushed at my position against the wall. The sword’s black blade cut a cruelly familiar arc.

“You have gifted me the key to victory,” he said. His face contorted into a wild, sickening rictus. “For that, I thank you.”

I pushed myself to my feet. No way would I die sitting down and backed into a dead end. If I really had to die, I’d do it like I’d done everything else for the past half a decade—by my own fucking rules.

Remember how I taught you, Marcus said. He spoke gently, not urgently. Fists up. Protect your face.

I stepped up to Delano’s challenge and took a swing. He blocked it with his left hand and lunged and sliced with his right. I ducked back, which spared my torso but my leg was not so lucky. The Gladius Solis cut into me as if I was no more than a ghost, exactly the way it had done hundreds of times by my hand. I hit the ground before I knew for sure I’d been wounded.

It had been a long time since I last felt pain I couldn’t bear. The corrupted sword retaught me the meaning of agony. I would have severed my own limb to make it stop.

“Yes,” Delano declared. He latched onto me. “It is done.”

He hauled me over the top of the wall and shoved me into open air. Discordant jeers rose to meet me. I stared into the sea of faces and saw those of my own people, captured and herded to the front. They all wore masks of horror.

Delano hissed into my ear. “I told you the consequences of defiance. The time for enforcement has come.”

He leapt down to the temple plateau. All I heard was the rush of water and the fiery beat of the wound in my leg.

Marcus said softly, I am sorry, Victoria.

I was too.

“Do you see this?” Delano’s voice boomed at the crowd. “I have brought the final sacrifice—indeed, the ultimate sacrifice. Who better than I to receive the blood of the god-killer as tribute? Behold as the slayer of gods is slain.”

He threw me down beside the boulder and raised the Gladius Solis.

“Hell no!” The shout rang out like a gunshot and roused me to attention. A rush of adrenaline beat back my pain as Delano was knocked aside. I shoved to my feet as my head spun and I stumbled unevenly toward the crowd and away from the seething god. One of the guards stopped my progress

Clear your mind, Victoria. Stay sharp. You have not been bested yet.

I sucked in a deep breath and delivered a punch. This one landed, at least, and my captor fell onto his back. I lunged to kick, claw, and pummel him with every ounce of strength left in my body. The whole world faded into nothing. All that existed was me in a fight for my life.

Oh, and Marcus was there too.

He shouted in my head to fill my brain with raw energy and guided my aim. Take out his eyes. Use the environment to your advantage. You can defeat him if you are clever about it.

I tried my best to follow his coaching, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that I didn’t possess the sword. The guard who fought me was fast, strong, and far too durable for me to defeat in my current condition. Once he’d wrestled the upper hand away from me, he’d backed me up to the cliff.

Five heavy knuckles straight to the jaw sent me in a not so graceful arc out and over the waterfall. As I started to plummet, I caught a glimpse of the figure who’d saved me from Delano’s clutches sprawled on the rock beneath the point of the Gladius Solis.

My heart leapt into my throat. There was no mistaking that silhouette, even in defeat.

Deacon.

Darkness enveloped my whole body. I no longer felt the cold or the pain. I knew I continued to drop toward the river, but it was a blank awareness. All I thought and all I saw was my love, ripped away before my eyes. The moments I spent in suspension above the water were each small eternities in themselves. I could have imagined Deacon forever.

But the water came up to embrace me and everything washed away.

Chapter Fifteen

A ragged cough brought me back to consciousness. I lay on the bank of the swiftly running river on my stomach and continued to hack up a delightful mixture of bile and dirty water. The back of my throat burned like hell, but the sensation paled in comparison to the angry rebuke from the wound in my leg. Rolling over to look at it was torture, and the sight didn’t exactly fill me with hope.

Black veins spidered outward from the deep gash, which throbbed in time with my pulse. I groaned and leaned forward to expel more gross water from my stomach.

“You’re lucky to be alive,” someone said.

I jerked my head up and as my vision greyed out, I almost puked again. The smoking man stood and gazed down at me. A cigarette burned between his fingers.

Immediately, I saw red. “You fucking prick! Where the hell were you?” The words were as venomous as I could make them but still weak.

He took a slow, insolent drag. “You were supposed to wait for me.”

If I’d had the strength, I might have murdered his ass on the spot. “We waited for fucking hours!” I yelled hoarsely. “Until we couldn’t take it anymore. This whole shitty, stupid mess is your fault, asshole. I hope it rots you from the inside out.” The tirade exhausted me, but I refused to let up. “We lost everyone. Do you not understand that, or do you simply not care? I’m the only one who got out. I’m all that’s left. I hope it’s what you fucking wanted, you dogshit bastard.”

He merely stared at me, continued to smoke nonchalantly, and allowed me to shout until I wheezed.

At last, after I’d put my head down to catch my breath, he said, “It is my fault. But not for the reasons you think.”

“What…the hell…does that mean?” I stared at him from my prone position on the wet bank while I fought for both strength and control. I felt like I’d been beaten with a thousand baseball bats. My leg was a constant harsh drumbeat in the background.

“I was wrong,” he said simply. “I believed you were strong enough to defeat Delano. Needless to say, you are not—not now. I admit I underestimated him. He has assimilated more power than I ever imagined possible. For my miscalculations, we have paid a high price.”

“I paid,” I growled. “You didn’t lose shit. Not a man down, not a hair out of your gnarly-ass beard. I paid for it all.” That last image of Deacon flashed across my consciousness, and I forced it deep down into a mental lockbox.

“Yes.” The smoking man nodded. “And now I know the truth. I have seen what we truly face.”

I propped myself up on my elbows and spat out dirt and gravel. My mouth tasted like I’d licked the inside of an old well. “I can beat him,” I croaked. “I can.” But the conviction was no longer there. I didn’t need to be told that I hadn’t come close.

He responded with another nod. His eyes were trained on me, illuminated by the moonlight. They were an icy, pearly blue.

I have said it so many times, Marcus piped up suddenly. Still, it bears repeating. There is nothing—not a single thing in any realm, god or human—that compares to the beast that Delano has become.

“Oh,” I mumbled. “You’re still here.” The sentences sounded waterlogged and miserable, but I felt great relief.

Victoria, if water was all it took to separate us, you would never have made it this far.

I laughed weakly. The effort hurt my chest. “Jerk.”

“There is a way,” the smoking man said. He lit a new cigarette although I hadn’t seen him toss the last butt. “It is a last-ditch effort. A Hail Mary, if you will.”

“Now you break out the cryptic comments,” I said with a frown. “What kind of swamp-alien code-speak bullshit is this?”

He gave me a look equal parts stern and amused. “There is no code, only a destination—one where no human has set foot for millennia.” He slipped a tablet out from under his coat, set it down on the grimy bank, and nudged it toward me. I craned my neck to look at the screen.

A map?

I frowned again and shot the smoking jackass a puzzled glance. He puffed out a white cloud in response. Grumbling a little, I pulled a hand free and pinched the screen to zoom out. My fingers left dirty wet streaks on the glass. A word showed up beside my thumb.

Nepal.

I zoomed out some more. The Himalayas. The marked location seemed practically dead center amid the famous mountain range.

“What the fuck?” I asked.

I received no answer, and when I looked up to ask again, the smoking man had gone.

“Damn it to hell,” I said and pounded my fist in the river muck. “I am over this shit.”

After a few moments, I gathered my strength and stood. I put the tablet under my arm, not caring that my sopping clothes dripped all over the screen. He’d at least been considerate enough to slap a waterproof case on the thing.

My head hurt. My face hurt where Delano had slapped me. My leg really hurt, and the ache was deep down in there like the bone was made of pain. There was definitely a part of me that had been beaten to the core back there at the temple. But a bigger part—the part that kept me walking—knew I had no choice. I’d failed too hard and left too much behind. Yeah, I was fucked up six ways to Sunday. I’d gotten the shit kicked out of me publicly.

But I was determined to get back to the temple, no matter what. Delano had something that belonged to me.

Chapter Sixteen

The wet cold seeped down to my bones as I stumbled half-blind through the burned-out field and away from the monstrous, towering outline of Delano’s mountain. My soaked clothes plastered against my body and left an erratic trail of water droplets behind me. Ice crystals had already begun to form along the strands of my hair. I couldn’t feel my toes, my fingers, or the tip of my nose.

It felt as wrong as hell to be headed in this direction. Every fiber of my being screamed at me to turn around and haul ass back to the temple. The memory of Deacon splayed out on the plateau, the Gladius Solis poised to strike his heart, was seared into my mind’s eye. I wanted to save him. I needed to save him.

It hurt beyond description to know I left him behind. But I also knew it was the only way. I had undeniably had the shit kicked out of me—and the painful truth was that Delano hadn’t even had to try. No way could I simply run back there and expect things to go differently the second time around. Somehow, I needed to gain the upper hand.

Deacon could be dead for all I knew. Delano’s intentions weren’t hard to guess. I directed all my attention ahead and tried to shove those thoughts from my mind. Soon, I’d return for him and he would be right where I left him. It was the only reality I could bring myself to accept.

The festering rage kept me warm on my way through the barren winter night despite the cold air that knifed through my lungs. My face withered into a semi-permanent scowl. I glanced at the tablet still clutched in my numb hands. Fuck the smoking man and his damn cigarettes. Fuck Nepal, fuck the Himalayas, and fuck the incessant throb of the wound in my leg.

The elaborate strategies of the past that we’d pored over for hours had all gotten me jack shit. It was time to revert to sheer simplicity. Brute force. All I needed was backup—once I had it, we’d come back in, guns blazing, and we wouldn’t leave until Delano was dead.

I could barely see my own hand in front of my face as I dragged my injured leg through the pitch-black field. Still, I had a decent sense of where we had started and where I needed to go to get back there. I staggered wearily through the darkness, closed my eyes, and shoved all my concentration into simply moving forward. No thoughts and no feelings were allowed. There would be time for that later.

The two-mile approach felt like ten during my retreat. I relaxed a little when I felt the snowpack beneath my feet. One more mile to go. I wouldn’t be home free, but I’d be a hell of a lot closer.

When I heard the distinct crunch of footprints in crusty snow, I grimaced. “I’m already fucking running away. What more do these assholes want?”

But whoever it was, they were in my way. I dropped into a crouch and crept a little closer as I strained to see what lay ahead. Two humanoid shapes moved purposefully across the snow, obviously patrolling the perimeter. I didn’t recall encountering anyone out there on the way in. Maybe Delano still tried to stomp me out while he knew he still had the chance. Like the coward he was, I thought acidly.

But instead of the Gladius Solis on my hip, what I had was a busted leg and clothes that had now almost frozen to my body. Even I wasn’t crazy enough to try this fight. I turned with every intention to avoid this particular encounter. My shitty balance on that wounded leg, however, had other plans. Before I really had a chance to comprehend what had happened, I was on my face atop a rough pillow of ice crystals. The patrolmen were on me by the time I managed to roll over.

They were standard-issue vamps and their greyish skin held a washed-out look against the winter landscape. Each grabbed hold of an arm and shoved me deeper into the snow.

“Look at that,” one of them said and grinned until his fangs caught the watery moonlight. “It’s been a long time since we found a little snack wandering around these parts.”

The other one chuckled. He leered into my face. “It’s about damn time. I’m starving.” He lifted a skinny hand and brushed the crystallizing strands of hair out of my face. “I bet a pretty thing like you has some sweet blood running through those veins.”

I spat at him. Although valiant, it was a weak effort and he simply laughed again. His buddy suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder. “Hey, wait! I know you.” His eyes burned with pure, vicious greed. “You’re the one Delano is looking for!”

“Well, maybe he should’ve killed me on the first try,” I answered.

They yanked me to my feet. As soon as I had some range of motion back, I twisted away from their grip and lashed out with my fists. The vamps were quick, but even in my current condition, I managed to be faster. The knuckles on my right hand connected solidly with a jawbone. The guy’s head snapped back.

He growled. “When I’m done with you, bitch, you’re gonna wish we were allowed to kill you.” His narrow, bony shoulder jammed into my stomach and briefly knocked the wind out of me. I kicked as hard as I could. The toe of my boot struck bone, and I immediately kicked out again.

The first vamp cursed. “You damn devil woman! Be a good girl now and come with us.” He struck me across the face so hard I saw stars and the color leaked out of my vision for a second. I felt all my limbs go slack. He hitched me forward and prepared to throw me over his shoulder. As he lifted me by the waist, I rammed my knee up into his chest and he buckled. I might’ve followed suit, but his buddy caught me by the back of the jacket.

“It looks like someone ought to teach you a lesson,” he sneered. His fist landed under my left eye, but instead of recoiling like he expected, I seized his wrist and broke it. He released a howl of pain. I held on to his arm even as he tore at me with the claws on his good hand and raked trails of blood down my cheek. Finally, I planted my foot into his ribs and he careened backward to drop into the snow. The broken wrist flapped uselessly at his side.

I now stood over him, my boot poised to crush his chest. For a couple of seconds, his bloodshot eyes registered the uncertainty and the fear to which I’d become accustomed. But his expression flipped instantly. Without warning, he grabbed my leg with all the strength he could muster and anchored me in place.

“What the—” Caught by surprise, I wavered. The joint of my knee twisted and a searing pain blazed through the cap. “You son of a bitch!”

I lunged forward to throw my weight down on his heart, but the other goon leapt onto my back from behind. We both toppled forward. A crack was quickly followed by a weird, raspy groan and I found myself face to face with a brand-new corpse.

The vampire under my boot had gotten his chest reshaped after all.

I rolled onto the ground and thrashed furiously to escape the second vamp. He was a tenacious bastard and had driven his claws into the backs of my shoulders like meat hooks. Fortunately, at this point, I was practically frozen solid from my trip down the river and I couldn’t feel much of anything—even the momentary agony in my knee had numbed—until a clammy hand wound around my throat and tightened its grip.

A new wave of panicked adrenaline surged through me. I threw myself back against the rock-solid dirt in an attempt to bash his head in or snap his neck, whichever happened first. After a few unsuccessful attempts, I grew impatient and simply smashed the back of my head into his nose as hard as I could.

The hand on my neck finally loosened and he sprawled backward onto the snow. I sat up, gasped, then turned and pinned him down.

“You’ll never get away,” he slurred through the torrent of blood from his broken nose. “Delano has his whole army looking for you. They’ll smoke you out like—”

I snapped his neck mid-sentence, struggled to my feet, and stumbled away into the darkness. The brief rush of energy I’d felt in the fight ebbed fast. Drops of blood scattered behind me. My eyelids felt heavy and I knew I was at the end of my rope.

Press on, Victoria. You do not have far to go. Marcus spoke his encouragement calmly but there was an urgent undertone. He knew as well as I did that there was no way I’d be able to take Delano on in this condition. I’d had my shot and I failed. I blew it. The only place left for me to go was back to the truck. All the reinforcements in the world couldn’t help me now.

The one thing Delano wasn’t able to take away from me was the nectar in my veins. By the time I finally saw the trucks still parked where we’d left them, the worst of the bleeding had more or less abated. The cold still dragged my every movement and the cut from the Gladius Solis continued to throb, but the rest of me at least hurt a little less. I climbed numbly into the driver’s seat and fumbled for the key. I didn’t expect to find it, but there it was, tucked deep in my pocket. I frowned at it for a moment and wondered how the hell it had stayed put, especially during my little raft trip downstream.

After a few bemused moments, I decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and shoved the key into the ignition. The engine grumbled for a moment or two but it turned over reluctantly.

What is your next course of action? Marcus asked. He sounded like he didn’t think there was much left to do but tactfully left those thoughts unspoken.

“What else?” I pulled the smoking man’s tablet out of my coat. The screen blinked on, still set to the map he’d shown me. “I’m going to the fucking Himalayas.”

Chapter Seventeen

The drone of the tiny airplane’s propeller filled my head as I sat in the back and made every effort not to look out the window. Strong winds buffeted the craft from every side. The sky was nothing more than an ocean of grey mist and huge, heavy raindrops spattered against the glass. Once or twice, I swore I caught a glimpse of a far-off flash of lightning.

The seat restraints were tight across my lap and chest, but I still pitched and rolled with every gust. My stomach constantly threatened to auto-eject out my nose. I hadn’t eaten at all that morning, and for once, I was glad. I was also relieved that there were no other passengers besides me—not that there was much room. The only empty seat was right beside me, squeezed in alongside the opposite window. It was hard to imagine that the plane could carry the weight of another person.

The aircraft dipped to the side and almost knocked me horizontal. I clutched the seat straps for dear life and shut my eyes tightly. Up front, the pilot and co-pilot chatted back and forth in a language I didn’t even recognize. The glow of the cockpit dials provided the only light, and that wasn’t much. I tried to pretend that they sounded confident, like everything would be fine and they’d done this crap a million times, but there was no way to disguise their agitation. Brief periods of silence were shattered by bursts of nervous talk, and switches flipped intermittently.

None of it reassured me at all.

We nose-dived a little. My stomach jerked and went into freefall for two seconds. In the privacy of my own head, I pictured Namiko’s face and half-jokingly cursed her. Without her strategic networking, I wouldn’t be flying toward Tibet, inching ever closer to the mythical mountain range where I was headed. But I also had her to thank for this shaky spin in a tin can with two guys afraid of mountain weather. She’d had to promise them extra payment to get them to agree to the trip at all.

That should have been my first red flag.

I continue to be astounded by the miracle of human flight, Marcus said, his voice full of wonder.

The plane bucked on a vicious air current. One of the pilots uttered something that sounded a hell of a lot like a curse. I swallowed the newest wave of nausea.

“That makes one of us,” I muttered. “At least you’re having fun.”

I have found that many potentially lethal experiences are much more enjoyable after death has already occurred, he said cheerfully.

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves. “There’s a sentence I never expected to hear.”

It was hard to focus on Marcus’s lighthearted banter. Every creak from the airplane’s metal body made me think of nuts and bolts raining down into the clouds while our structural integrity decreased by the minute. The thought that I might soon plummet to earth only heightened my urge to puke. I was fairly sure there’d be no river to cushion the impact this time, and no creepy smoking man to reorient me.

Namiko was most generous to procure passage into the mountains. Marcus blithely held up his end of the conversation, ignorant to the fact that we hurtled through a storm, probably surrounded by mountains, and that if we veered even slightly off course, we’d die in a fiery crash on the side of some lonely peak, never to be found.

“I wouldn’t call it generous,” I said, my teeth clenched. “I mean, okay, I would. In the sense that she didn’t have to do it. But this wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked.”

The plane—which had listed at a sickening angle for at least five minutes—finally righted itself, and my whole body went limp from the release of massive tension. I flopped my head back on the headrest, my eyes still shut, and breathed a little easier.

Namiko had done her best in a bad situation. I knew that. I had arrived at her resistance base in the Bay Area after a few harrowing days of dodging Delano’s minions as I worked my way west. I scrounged food wherever I could find it but otherwise, never left the truck. To stop driving meant to think about the situation in granular detail, so I only slept when I couldn’t force my eyes to stay open any longer.

On some level, I couldn’t afford to worry about what was going on at the temple or how long it would take me to get back. I simply didn’t have the energy or the emotional fortitude to consider any of that, especially not Deacon.

I told myself over and over that he was fine, that they’d thrown him in some shitty jail cell so they could kill me in front of him later. It was still not the best reassurance but way better than the glaring alternative. The farther I drove, the more convinced I became that I was doing the right thing after all. I could either believe in my choices or fall into despair.

My self-distraction techniques worked well enough to carry me to the west coast without going insane, but not well enough to keep me from looking like shit warmed over on Namiko’s doorstep. She’d opened the door, taken one look at me, and said, “Vic, come in before you die out there.” She fed me a meal, gave me a room, and slowly coaxed the whole story out and unraveled the tangled threads of my narrative with the patience of a saint.

At the end of it all, she’d said, “Listen, I think Delano’s beyond our capabilities here, but I’ll see if we can’t dispatch some people to the Midwest to keep the weaker minions out of your way. And I can get you to South Asia. I think.”

“You’re my fucking hero,” I had said to her—before she booked my flights. The plane shuddered yet again, and I managed a strained laugh.

I thought you were not having fun, Marcus said.

“Does it look like I’m having fun?” I shook my head. “It’s merely funny that I’ve spent months fighting a shitload of gods, narrowly escaped by the skin of my damn teeth, and now I’m about to die in the mountains. And it won’t even be my own fault.”

You will be fine, Marcus told me. You have proven that it will take much more than inclement weather and a vehicle of dubious endurance to remove you from the earth.

I chuckled. “I guess that’s true. But wouldn’t it be the ultimate burn on Delano if I survived his beating, only to be killed in a stupid plane crash? He’d be so mad.”

He would indeed be furious. Marcus acknowledged. The price for such a hollow victory, however—

“I know, I know. I’m not hoping for it. I merely hate that guy so much.”

Evidence indicates that the feeling is mutual.

The airplane continued to fight through the storm, and I continued to wish there was a barf bag somewhere nearby. Finally, the ride smoothed out a little and a wave of blinding light washed over us as we burst through the edge of the clouds. The pilots broke into a cheer of thankful relief. They signaled to me and pointed down toward a rocky, snowy landscape that gave way to broad fields before they spoke on their radios and we began our descent.

The narrow airstrip materialized out of what looked like a brown smudge in the field and I held my breath on the approach. It was nothing more than well-packed soil, and it looked slick. The landing gear dropped. The earth rushed up to meet us. I didn’t breathe again until the aircraft touched down and jostled me against my seatbelt one last time.

“Holy shit,” I said out loud. “We made it!”

See? And you are no worse for wear.

“That’s debatable,” I said.

The aircraft taxied to a stop at the end of the strip. I undid my straps, opened the door, and almost fell out onto the side runner.

“Thank you!” I called to the pilots and waved. I had to hand it to those guys. As terrifying as that flight had been, they had pulled it off in the end.

They waved back, grinned, and shouted something in their native tongue. I retrieved the backpack I’d brought from Namiko’s base, hefted it onto my shoulders, and jumped down to blessedly solid ground.

The field sprawled in all directions around me. In summer, it was likely lush and green, perhaps repurposed farmland. At the moment, it lay dormant under a patchy cover of snow, not unlike the land surrounding Delano’s temple. The major differences were the mountains that rose up in the distance everywhere I looked.

Onward! Marcus proclaimed. To the next stage of this new adventure.

“Yeah.” I walked away from the airstrip and adjusted my stride to compensate for the lingering ache in my leg. “Do you know what the craziest thing is?”

What?

I smiled grimly. “I think that was the easy part.”

Chapter Eighteen

I walked until the sun hung low in the sky and saw no signs of life except ruts in the dirt road that headed north from the airstrip. Back at Namiko’s, I had done some research on the general area so was decently prepared for the enormous sense of isolation that weighed down on me as I traveled.

She had inspected the smoking man’s tablet, declared it insufficient for my needs, and gave me a new GPS unit, which I consulted regularly. The tablet was still tucked away in an inside pocket of my coat. I had half a mind to throw it back at him the next time I saw him.

This is a stark but beautiful country, Marcus observed. I myself have little personal experience with mountainous regions.

“You’re in luck,” I said. “Something tells me we’re about to get intimately familiar with this one.”

If nothing else, we’d be stuck there until I managed to finagle a way home, but I pushed those worries aside. There was no sense in freaking out about that when we had only arrived. There was, apparently, business to handle first. I didn’t know what that business was, but past experience had taught me that things tended to reveal themselves along the way. My job was to grin and bear it until that happened.

I continued along the dirt path, confident that at least the blinking indicator on my GPS led me in the right direction. The slope of the road began to climb. Most of me didn’t have a problem with that, but it wasn’t long before my bum leg put in a complaint.

“Damn that sword,” I muttered and gritted my teeth against the dull, persistent pain.

The Gladius Solis is a fearsomely effective weapon. It has served you well many a time.

“Yeah, but it’s not supposed to work against me,” I replied. “That feels like a betrayal.” I was quiet for a minute as I considered this. “I wonder if this is how Kronin felt when he died.”

Worse, perhaps. He knew that everything he had worked to build would be gone in that instant. We are fortunate to have been given another chance.

I crested the top of the hill and looked out toward the craggy horizon. The road wound down until it disappeared from view as it stretched toward the base of the distant mountains. I sighed. “It’s gonna be a long walk.”

My eye caught a cluster of shapes huddled beside the road. A few dim lights flickered around them. “Hey, that looks like a village!” I double-checked my GPS, but the settlement was so small that I wasn’t surprised it didn’t show up on maps. Reinvigorated, I hurried toward the structures which appeared to have been constructed out of not much more than mud and stone.

Incredible. From the miracle of flight to a primitive hovel in the space of an afternoon.

“I’m so glad no one else can hear you right now,” I said. “Don’t talk shit about these guys. They might be our only help.”

I was merely commenting on the condition of their civilization, Marcus replied, slightly huffy. I agree that their knowledge may be indispensable.

I rolled my eyes. “Then don’t make this weird.” I smoothed my hair and straightened my clothes as I approached the boundary of the village. Most of the buildings appeared to be residential, at least to my uneducated eye. There were significantly more of them than I had first assumed, stacked on top of and directly adjacent to each other as they climbed a hillside. Up close, they were colorful, too, although the hues had been washed out by exposure to the elements. Rainbow strings of cloth flags fluttered over the main street.

“Whoa.” I glanced around, wide-eyed. “This is pretty awesome, actually.”

It pales in comparison to the Roman Empire, of course.

I frowned. “Let’s find someone and hope they speak enough English to give us directions.” The streets were cold and windswept but faces appeared in a few windows as I made my way deeper into the village. A door squeaked open on my left, and an old woman with a sweet, wrinkled face and a scarf tied around her head beckoned me inside. She placed her arm around my shoulders and urged me across the threshold.

“Thank you,” I said, not at all sure that she understood. “Um, could you tell me how to find…” I retrieved the tablet and opened the map to show her. She blinked at the screen. “I’m looking for this mountain.” I pointed at the dot on the map. “I really need to get there.” The old lady turned her eyes to me. They were shiny and black and crinkled at the corners. “If you don’t know, that’s okay!”

She held up a slightly crooked finger, sat me down in one of the two chairs at her table, and hurried through a doorway. I opened my mouth to call after her but she had already gone. When she returned a minute later, she had a younger man with her, his face half obscured by a thick beard. She talked to him in what I thought might be the same language the pilots had spoken and gestured in my direction. I tried to look apologetic.

The man smiled. “Grandmother says you only speak English? She thinks that you are lost.”

“Oh.” I barely stopped myself from saying shit in time. “Well, she’s two for two.”

“I see.” His smile widened. “How may I help you? This is a strange place to be lost in if you will allow me to say so.”

I showed him the tablet. “Well, I need to get to this mountain and I’m not sure which one it is.”

“It is true that there are many mountains in this region,” he said a chuckled. “Let me see.”

He took the device from my hand and studied it for a while with a slight frown. I thought I’d have to show him how to operate the touch screen, but he manipulated it without any problems.

“Ah,” he said at last. “I understand. Unfortunately, this mountain is very far away. You are searching for a different village to the north. A few hundred miles.”

I nodded and tried to conceal my disappointment. “All right. Thanks.”

He handed back the tablet. “I am sorry that you have so far yet to go. Grandmother has taken a liking to you.”

The old woman beamed and showed all her teeth.

“I appreciate the help,” I said. “What’s the quickest way to cover that kind of distance? I’m in a something of a rush.”

He tilted his head to regard me curiously. “You are the only person I have ever met who rushes to the mountains.” A thoughtful expression crossed his face. “But I may be able to help further.” He retreated into the other room and returned wearing a parka. “There is a man in the village who owns a car. Perhaps he can take you the rest of the way.” He said something to his grandmother, then opened the door and motioned for me to follow. “Come with me and we will ask him.”

We went down the street and turned into an alley lined with doors and balconies so close that they almost touched. More flags hung between the railings amid empty clotheslines. The man knocked at the fourth door.

“We may have to try more than once,” he told me. “Sometimes, he has trouble hearing.”

The sound of shuffling footsteps reached our ears and a slot in the door opened. My guide spoke briefly. He pointed to me and I waved.

A second later, the door swung inward to reveal an older gentleman whose black hair had gone mostly grey. He inspected me closely. I showed him the tablet.

“Yes,” he said. “I drive you.”

“Really?” I couldn’t keep the excitement out of my voice. Both men laughed.

“Yes, yes,” said the driver. “We leave now. Road is empty at night.” He motioned with his hands. “Faster.”

“Okay,” I said. “Awesome!” I turned to the first man. “Thank you so much. And thank your grandmother too.” I checked my pockets. “I wish I had something to give you in exchange.”

“Oh, no.” The man shook his head. “You must not give me anything. Where you are going, you will need all you have.” He smiled again and shook my hand. “Good luck to you, traveler. May you find the blessings you seek.” He patted my shoulder and turned toward the old lady’s house.

“Come, come,” the driver said. He led me around the back of the building to a small, partially fenced lot. A car sat hidden under a thick tarp and I helped him unfasten the ties. It looked like an ancient cab, the yellow paint chipped and faded. The driver produced a key and unlocked my side before he hurried around the front hood to wedge himself behind the steering wheel. The interior smelled vaguely musty.

“Does it still run?” I joked before I realized that he might not know I was kidding.

To my great relief, he laughed. “It runs, yes! It runs.” As a demonstration, he started the old engine, which coughed but rumbled to life. “See? Good car.”

“Great car,” I said.

He nodded. “Let’s go.”

We crept out of the lot at less than five miles an hour and gingerly negotiated the tight corners. But when we finally reached the actual road, he accelerated and the engine roared. The exhaust backfired a couple times. Villagers emerged from their houses and hung out the windows to watch us pass by. Some of them cheered.

“Do they know where we’re going?” I asked.

The driver shrugged. “Probably no,” he answered. “They simply wish you well.”

We rode together in silence for a while as the old vehicle bumped over the unpaved road. Once the cab reached its optimum speed, it chugged along like an old, reliable workhorse. The driver glanced constantly at me in the rearview mirror. He seemed eager to socialize.

“What you are doing here?” he asked and seemed to choose his words carefully. “Vacation?”

I shook my head. “No vacation. I, uh…I heard this was a good place to come if you want to find yourself.”

He grinned. “On top of mountain, find lots of cold, maybe. Snow and big sky. Storms.”

I sat in silence and suppressed the instinctive response that those had better not be all there was. He frowned and his cheerful face darkened abruptly.

“It is dangerous,” he told me. “Out here. There are a lot of bad things.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Bad things, as in bad people? I can handle those.”

“No.” He wagged a finger in warning. “The evil ones, they walk amongst them.”

I sighed. Exactly what I wanted to hear.

In the silence that ensued, I leaned back into the passenger seat and watched this new part of the world roll by. Every so often, the driver would gesture out one side of the car or the other to point out landmarks or try to share some interesting fact. I really wanted to ask him more about the aforementioned evil ones, but he didn’t seem too keen on the subject. His eyes clouded over whenever he so much as started to mention them and I gave up after a while. The guy was doing me a huge favor. It would be stupid to antagonize him before he’d gotten me where I needed to go.

The hours ran into each other as we cruised down that lonely, winding road. The mountains inched closer and closer until I could no longer see the misty outlines of even the lowest peaks. Finally, we chugged our way into a proper little town with big old stones set into the roads.

The same densely packed, brightly colored houses lined the streets. Near the town center, an open-air market attracted decent crowds. I paused with my hand on the door. People walked the streets as I expected but there were all kinds of Forgotten, too. I identified satyrs, Weres, and a gaggle of the stunted golems we’d encountered in D.C. A tall, lean vampire in an elegant coat stood outside a pot maker’s stall and examined the wares.

“What’s going on here?” I mused.

The driver scowled for the first time since we’d left his home village. He spat out an ugly word that had to be a curse and accelerated away as soon as I shut the car door behind me. Lumbering, stone-skinned gargoyles ambled past, their chiseled features set to mild ambivalence. At first, I was tense and ready for imminent confrontation. But these streets were peaceful if not normal.

“This is weird,” I muttered to Marcus. “Why don’t they act like pricks?”

They appear to lack the natural aggression we have observed thus far, he responded. I must confess, I have never seen it before.

“Maybe they’re under some kind of spell.” I slipped as inconspicuously as possible through the streets and studied my surroundings as unobtrusively as I could. The satyrs there were sober, well-groomed, and unarmed. No one gave me a second glance. I entered the town bazaar and pretended to scan the stalls instead of their patrons. I was sure a fight would erupt at any moment.

Fortunately, that never happened. Humans and Forgotten browsed the handcrafted goods side by side. They made conversation. I felt like I had gone crazy.

“Hey! American girl!” An English-speaking voice cut through all the foreign buzz.

I turned to look at its source and saw a small, wiry man perched on a stool behind his stall. He motioned me over.

“A rare sight in these mountains,” he said and laughed.

I made a vague gesture around the market. “What is all this?” I asked. “These people don’t care about the…” I mimed horns, wings, and fangs.

He smiled. “Elsewhere, perhaps they are monsters, but not here. These have defied their former masters and freed their minds of oppression. They came in search of freedom, and that is what they found. We have simply accepted their presence.”

“Huh.” I took another look around the vicinity. “And it’s working out.”

He shrugged his thin shoulders. “So far. We know they could turn on us at any time. In the beginning, many of us lived in fear. But they never chose anything other than peace. Now, we believe they are no different from us in here.” The shopkeeper tapped the left side of his chest.

I looked into the unwavering serenity of his eyes. “I wonder if this is the way it could be everywhere,” I said quietly.

“Where are you from?” he asked.

“New York City.”

He chuckled. “And you do not have stranger citizens than this in New York?” He nodded his head at a small herd of centaurs that trotted down the middle of the road. They moved slowly so as not to pose a danger to the surrounding pedestrians and smiled as they greeted humans and other Forgotten alike. The brands on their bodies had faded to almost nothing.

I still had trouble wrapping my mind around the concept of humans and Forgotten coexisting. “Do you know where to find a guide?” I asked. “I’d like to go into the mountains.”

“Ah,” he said. “So that is your business.” He leaned out of the stall and pointed down to the end of the row of buildings, immediately beyond the far perimeter of the market. “There, you will find your guide.”

“Thanks.” I moved quickly toward the house. Now that I was hyperaware of the Forgotten that roamed the street, it was a little unsettling to be outside. I ducked into the side alley and knocked on the door.

What an extraordinary place, said Marcus. I was certain that he said that with a frown. I am not sure how I feel.

“You and me both, my friend.” On the surface, this town looked like a utopia, and maybe it really was. But it sure felt as weird as hell.

The person who answered the door was a kid, shorter than me with a mop of dark hair that hung in his big brown eyes. He could not have been more than sixteen or seventeen. “What’s wrong?” he asked me in English. “Do you need help?”

“Uh.” I hesitated. “Someone told me I’d be able to find a guide at this house. I’m sorry if I have the wrong address.” I took out the tablet to show him.

“No, you are correct,” the boy said. “I would be happy to guide you.”

“You’re the guide?” The question popped out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop it.

He nodded as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Do not be worried. I am young but the mountains favor me. We will have no trouble.”

This child is either very brave or very stupid.

I tried to look past him into the house in case there were any adults around. “Are you absolutely sure about that?” I asked.

“Yes, yes.” He stepped aside to let me in. “I have guided many feet to the peaks and down. I promise you, this is the truth.” He smiled. “Take a room in the house for your rest tonight. Tomorrow, we leave at daybreak.” He closed the door.

I stood there in the dim, narrow hall for a minute or two and mulled over this new situation. The kid didn’t move and he didn’t stop smiling either. “All right,” I said. There was nothing to do but press forward. “We leave at daybreak.”

Chapter Nineteen

A brisk tap on my bedroom door woke me from a dead sleep the next morning. The kid was there, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and all geared up for our expedition. His pack was at least as big as the one I’d brought with me, and he still grabbed mine and slung it on his back.

“Hey, I can carry that,” I said as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes.

“Nope,” was his only reply. He ran to the other room and returned with some breakfast in the form of bread, water, and dried meat, which he pressed into my hand. “Eat. We have to go. The climb is half a day’s journey and we do not want to come down in the dark.”

I decided not to mention the fact that I had no idea what was in store up there or if I’d even come down at all. Instead, I stuffed some jerky in my face and trailed down the hall after him, out of the house, and into the still-dark street.

The first misty fingers of morning had barely pushed up from the horizon, and the air was bitterly cold. The kid’s trajectory was set and sure. He trotted to the town center, where the empty skeleton of the bazaar waited to fill up for the day. A few young men stood around with rickshaws and rubbed their hands together. The boy picked one and hopped on. I joined him.

The two of them talked for a while on the way out of town. I sat in the back with my hands in my lap and felt strangely unencumbered without my pack. My young guide, on the other hand, looked like he shouldn’t have been able to move under all that weight, but he was as hardy as a goat. The rickshaw operator dropped us off at a trailhead in the steeper foothills, and the kid walked unbowed ahead of me, his hair blowing in the wind. My leg protested but I picked up my pace to draw even with him.

“You are limping,” he observed. “Would you like to return to the town?”

I waved away his concern. “It’s nothing,” I said. “I’ll be fine. I’ve looked forward to this hike for weeks.” It was something of an exaggeration but not wholly untrue. I did want to know what waited at the summit of this mountain. Also, I wanted this trip over with so I could head back to Indiana as soon as possible. Delano wouldn’t wait around and look for me forever.

“Let me know if you change your mind.” Those eight words were the most the boy spoke aloud for a long time.

He traversed the trail effortlessly and his expression never deviated from one of simple calm. I realized that he was at home up there, even loaded down with two packs and thick, insulated clothing. I wondered if he liked it better at higher altitudes because of all the Forgotten in his town.

It was tough to simply dive into that kind of heavy discourse so I decided to start small. “Hey, I never got your name,” I said. “I’m Vic.”

He gave me a slight smile. “My name is Shiva,” he said.

I grinned back. “Oh yeah? How does it feel to be named after a god these days?”

Shiva knitted his brows. “I am named for a real god,” he replied. “Not like these imposters.”

Ha! The unadulterated wisdom of youth.

“My guess is you’re not the biggest fan of all those ‘imposters’ living around your home then,” I said.

To that, he shook his head and his shaggy hair swung back and forth over his eyes. “Those creatures are not the same,” he answered. “My people are much more open-minded to certain things than your cultures in the West. We know those beings are not evil, and we have learned to reside together in harmony. This has happened for months.” He adjusted the double pack on his shoulder without slowing down. “They have given us nothing to fear.”

Marcus grumbled. I rescind some of my previous statement. The Forgotten have never been anything but trouble. It is folly for this boy and his people to allow them space in their town.

I wanted to respond but it became more difficult. The wound in my leg carried a persistent, painful beat that strengthened the more time I spent walking. Tiny beads of sweat formed on my skin, aftereffects of powering through the pain. Still, I pushed onward.

Shiva pulled a little ahead again and I clenched my jaw in determination. I told myself that a half day’s climb was nothing and that I’d rest at the summit in no time.

For a while, that tactic worked. I was able to put my injury out of my thoughts and focus on the austere beauty of the mountains. When the grades became steeper, though, my leg complained louder as I scrambled up nearly vertical faces and squeezed through tall, narrow crevices. The discomfort gradually worked its way up to my hip and engulfed most of the right side of my body. A few times, I paused instinctively for tiny respites when Shiva wasn’t looking but stopping wasn’t an option, no matter how hard this damn mountain kicked my ass. I had already screwed up once. I wouldn’t do it again.

Mother Nature, however, had other plans. The clear sky we had enjoyed since dawn was rapidly smothered by the same heavy grey clouds my plane had flown through on the way into this region of South Asia. The change in weather gave Shiva pause. He studied the patterns in the cloud cover and finally said, “It would be wise to turn back now. This is not good climbing weather. It is no longer safe.”

I stopped beside him and turned my gaze to the unfriendly sky. “I don’t doubt you,” I said. “You’re the guide here. But I need to keep going.” I glanced at his clean-shaven teenage face. “If you’re afraid, it’s okay. I won’t judge you. I’ve been scared too. But if your concern is for me, it’s not necessary.”

Shiva chewed his lip. “I am not fearful,” he admitted. “There was a time once, when I was a child, that I was stranded by a storm in the mountains for four days. My survival made me believe that my time is appointed by higher beings. It will come when it comes, whether that is on this peak or on the rickshaw going home.” Despite this brave talk, the uneasiness refused to leave his face. He stood with his feet planted firmly and stared at the rest of the mountain path.

I laughed. “Don’t sweat it, kid. I’ve spent the better part of a year constantly on the edge and waiting to be dropped into the great abyss. If I can hang on for this long, so can you. Let’s keep going, okay? You and me. I’ll be with you all the way.”

“You had better be,” Shiva said. “For your own sake.” He moved forward again and guided me along increasingly narrow switchbacks into a hovering blanket of fog. The freezing water droplets clung to my face and eyelashes and blurred my vision. My whole leg ached fiercely. Shiva was little more than two vague backpack humps ahead of me. I pushed to keep up because to lose sight of him meant sheer catastrophe.

This high up, the rocks were frigid and slick. I climbed with my heart in my throat and fought to ignore the incredible altitude. My hands and feet slid on the icy surfaces, and more than once, I felt myself lose all purchase for half a terrifying second. And man, did my leg hurt.

I hadn’t had more than a passing chance to rest it since I’d left San Francisco, and that now caught up with me. It was almost all I could do to stay on Shiva’s tail. He might as well have been an apparition for all I could of see him through the mist.

Then, I saw his partial silhouette falter. One foot slipped free of the ledge he walked on and I stared in horror as he slid toward the edge of a deep, dark crevasse. The opening was narrow but not narrow enough to keep him from falling to his death. Shiva shouted something that was whipped away by the wind.

All thoughts of my personal safety left my mind. I shoved myself off the rock with all my might and hurtled toward his falling form. His right hand grasped desperately for any hold but found nothing. He had only yards before he was lost forever.

I ran on my sore, unsteady leg as far as I could along that rickety ledge. My footing slipped too, but I used that to my advantage and dived down toward Shiva.

“Grab my hand!” I yelled.

He looked up as I seized his fingers. The jerk as his momentum halted almost tore me loose from the precarious hold I had on the cliff face. Thankfully, I managed to hold on, even if only barely, and I used my good leg to drag us both back to relative safety. We slumped side by side against the rock, our mirrored pants testimony to shared relief. My heart thrummed wildly in my chest.

“How can you be so strong?” he asked somewhat reverently. “Never mind. I do not question. I am only grateful.”

“I go to the gym,” I told him. “Like, a lot.”

You were also trained by a brilliant, dashing centurion of the Roman army, Marcus piped up. His words instilled you with the courage you now selflessly exhibit on a regular basis. You can only hope to one day be molded in his noble image.

I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “Yep,” I said. “Definitely the gym.”

Chapter Twenty

We slowed our pace after that little mishap and picked our way cautiously through the thin, wet air. The rocks grew a covering of ice and then snow. By the time we reached the path to the summit, we trudged through it, paranoid at the thought of hidden ravines. Shiva pulled himself up over a ledge and stopped to catch his breath. He pointed straight ahead.

“The peak,” he said. “It’s there. A hundred feet.”

I perched beside him and surreptitiously massaged my leg. “Thank you, Shiva. You can turn back now. I’ll take it from here.”

“What do you mean?” He gazed at me with a trace of suspicion. “You must not believe you can make the descent without a guide. Climbing down is harder, not easier. You cannot see where you are going.” He sounded a little irritated as if I wasn’t the first dumb foreigner to try to dismiss him early. Unlike the others before me, I wouldn’t be dissuaded.

“You talked about your appointed time before,” I said and scowled at the swirl of fog and snow above. “This is mine. I have to meet it alone.” Talking to him that way gave me flashbacks of when I’d said more or less the same thing to my crew at the base of Delano’s temple. I hoped dearly that this venture, whatever it turned out to be, would have a happier ending.

Shiva surprised me by moving to block the path. His eyes were somber. “You tricked me,” he said. “Had I known you meant to end your life here, I would not have agreed to be your guide.”

I gasped. “No! No, no, kiddo. I’m not here for that. That’s insane.”

“Is it?” he demanded. “I have seen it happen many times. Lost souls find their way to the peaks so that their last moments may pass as close to paradise as they can be. They believe it will make the transition easier. Less painful? More peaceful? I do not know.” He shook his head to clear it. “I cannot allow you to die this way, whether or not it is your wish.”

“Shiva, listen to me.” I grabbed the kid’s gloved hand in my own. “I didn’t climb all this way to die on the summit. I don’t want to meet the gods. I want to know how to kill them.”

The poor boy understood that even less, judging by the way he stared at me like I’d grown another head. He looked like he debated whether to drag my crazy ass back down to the town anyway, but at the last moment, he thought better of it.

“You are not suffering from oxygen deprivation,” he said as though he needed to convince himself.

“No,” I insisted. “I know what I’m here to do, and I want you to know you can’t stop me. Go home, Shiva. I’ll see you when I see you. Don’t forget that you’re not responsible for the choices I’ve made.”

He wanted very badly to argue and to talk me out of it. I could see it in his face, and I really felt for him. To someone who lacked the context for everything I had said, I was sure I sounded insane—and yes, like a person with a weird death wish.

Here lies Vic, the woman who wanted to kill the gods.

But he saw through to my grim conviction and backed away reluctantly before he turned in the direction from which we’d come a few minutes earlier. I watched until I was absolutely certain that he hadn’t doubled back and I set out for the peak.

The last hundred feet were brutal in a way I never expected. I clawed my way up the practically sheer face, one slip away from certain doom. My feet scrabbled against slippery rock and snow fell away on either side to plummet thousands of feet to a bottom beyond my imagination. The sound of my heart pounded in my head. With every shallow breath, I inched a little higher.

Near the very top, the whine of the sharp wind rose to a screech. The currents of air ripped at my body and threatened to tear me off the mountain and throw me into a hidden grave. A couple of times, I stopped moving entirely and clung to the rocks until I stopped shaking. “Fucking hell,” I whispered hoarsely. “If I ever see that smoking jackass again, I’m gonna punch him in the face. I don’t care what’s up here.”

Focus, Victoria. You are very close.

“Yeah, yeah.” I scrabbled above me with my right hand and hooked my fingers over a reasonably flat edge that felt deeper than a few inches. My heart skipped a beat. I grabbed hold with my other hand, and for a second, I swung freely from the shoulders down. The excitement drowned out the fear as I hauled myself up over the ledge and onto the peak of my mountain. Nothing but a slate-grey sky loomed over my head.

I almost cried with relief and joy but my rest only lasted a minute. Soon, I pushed to my feet and walked forward while I searched for clues. The fog was thicker than ever up there, but there was no hiding the massive, ornately carved wooden door fitted into the mountain’s highest point. It was ancient and smooth and there was something strangely familiar about its design.

“Ready?” I asked Marcus. My hand touched the wood.

As ever, Victoria. Let us away.

I exhaled a billowing plume of white and I pushed firmly against it.

The door rumbled open, and I walked through.

Chapter Twenty-One

On the other side of the door, the howling wind was immediately silenced. The bone-chilling cold melted into soothing heat. The mountain peak was replaced by a vast banquet room with a golden throne. Lavish trappings notwithstanding, the room lay empty and still but my eyes were drawn to something other than the inexplicable finery. Standing off to my left was a person I hadn’t seen in a small eternity. My mouth dropped open. “Marcus?”

He grinned broadly and stepped forward with his arms out. “Hail, Victoria.”

“You son of a bitch!” I said and hugged him tightly. “What the hell?”

He laughed and returned the embrace. “It is wonderful to truly see you again, my friend. And to occupy the same physical space.”

We looked at each other for a long time and I soaked in the bizarre reality of the moment.

“Seriously, what the hell?” I asked. “Five seconds ago, I was climbing a mountain and you were right here.” I patted the medallion which still hung around my neck. Its metal was no longer warm to the touch and it had lost some of its ethereal luster. “Now, we’re in a fucking throne room and you’re in front of me. In the flesh.” The words were surreal to my ears.

“Calm yourself, Victoria.” Marcus chuckled and rested a hand on my shoulder. “What else would you expect from the realm of the gods?”

“The realm of the—” I jerked backward to study the rich chamber one more time. “You have got to be shitting me.”

He made a face. “I am not, in fact, doing that.” He turned and spread his arms wide in a gesture he had probably practiced since the dawn of time. “Welcome to Carcerum.”

“Damn.” I couldn’t keep the goofy smile off my face. “I gotta be honest. I never thought I’d be so happy to see your ugly mug.”

Marcus didn’t answer right away and I was about to rib him again when I noticed his attention had become fixed on something across the room. I pivoted, and my exuberant grin instantly faded. The smoking man sat upon the golden throne, his legs crossed casually and a cigarette clamped between his lips. Immediately, I looked toward Marcus to gauge his reaction. The old centurion was so guarded, he revealed nothing.

I knew what I wanted to say, but I kept it locked tightly behind my teeth. What the shit was that guy doing there? My fists clenched instinctively at my sides. I still wanted to throw that punch for everything he’d put me through.

The man watched us impassively as he took another deep drag. “Come,” he instructed, his head wreathed in a white plume.

As if compelled by an outside force, Marcus and I stepped forward in unison until we stood below the steps that led to the throne. The smoking man uncrossed his legs. He stubbed his cigarette out in a jeweled ashtray and its miniscule embers faded into nothing. Then, he stood and something happened to the sinewy old-man body. He grew and his shoulders broadened. His jawline became clean and sharp. The shape of his muscles filled out. He even glowed a little.

I blinked. The smoking man had gone, replaced by a man who could only be a king. Although his face was drawn with hidden pain, his features looked like they’d been sculpted by an artist and he exuded an irresistible charisma.

Marcus gasped. When I glanced his way, he had dropped to one knee, his head bowed in utmost reverence. “My Lord,” he intoned.

I folded my arms. “My Lord is right,” I said. “Will somebody tell me what in high freaking heaven is going on here?”

The old centurion looked aghast at my impropriety. “Victoria!” he chastised. “That is no way to speak before the God-King. I will thank you to show the proper respect in his hall.”

I gave him a hard look. “Dude, listen to yourself right now. The God-King’s gone, and it’s a damn good thing he is because Delano beat me up and took his sword—or don’t you remember that part? Something tells me he wouldn’t be too happy if he knew.”

Marcus grimaced. He obviously wanted to shrivel up and die of embarrassment. “Victoria—”

“Well, she’s not completely wrong.” The man spoke for the first time since his transformation. “I must admit, I was disheartened to witness that particular defeat. But the fault lies with me, Vic. Not you.”

I stopped cold. My eyes locked onto his face and revelation crashed over me. “Tell me who you are,” I said. “Uh…please.”

Marcus sighed audibly.

The man only smiled. “My name is nothing you don’t already know,” he replied. “I am Kronin, former king of the gods, ruler of Carcerum, and bearer of the Gladius Solis. Loyal Marcus speaks the truth. You walk in my domain.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

My jaw dropped as the force of the truth smacked me in the face. The smoking man, the guy who fished me out of an Indiana river after he’d left me and my crew to fend for ourselves against Delano, had been Kronin the whole time.

Memories of his brief appearances during the last months of my life flashed through my head. They all had one thing in common—he showed up, dispensed some sage wisdom, and dropped off the face of the earth again, often for weeks without any form of contact. Knowing that he had likely retreated to his undisturbed godly kingdom during those periods of strife made me mad. Then I thought about it some more and it made me furious.

Marcus must have seen the color rise in my face because he reached out a hand toward my arm, ready to mediate between me and his lord and savior.

Steaming, I brushed him off. “You have some nerve, Kronin,” I said. “You know that? Leave it to one of the freaking gods to let the world fall into chaos while they sit idly by, doing nothing.” I glared directly into his eyes and refused to give an inch. He made no reply. “And now you have nothing to say. Typical.”

The centurion’s hand landed on my shoulder. He tried to ease me back gently, maybe because he was afraid I’d storm up those fancy golden steps and slap the God-King in his omniscient face. His grip was firm but I didn’t budge. My hurt leg trembled slightly and I prayed it wouldn’t give out. Marcus made another attempt to mollify me.

“Keep your temper,” he said softly. “We need Kronin now more than ever.”

I had already seen red, however. “No,” I retorted and continued to glower at the king of gods. “We don’t. The only thing he’s done for us is make false promises.” I could literally feel my blood pressure rise and a tension headache brewed in the back of my skull.

The fact that Kronin had yet to go on the defensive only annoyed me more. There was no honor in simply sitting there and taking it. I was more than happy to force him into a direct confrontation and release some of the pent-up frustration. Maybe after that, I’d be able to look at him without wanting to throw up.

“You—” I didn’t really know what I wanted up to say, but as it turned out, it didn’t matter. My voice had risen to a level barely below a shout, and when I went to kick it up a notch, my lungs refused to cooperate. Instead of taking a stand, I doubled over and coughed so hard that I eventually sagged onto the floor. Marcus knelt at my side and glanced at Kronin.

“I must apologize for her, my liege. She is very weak and she is not herself. I am sure you understand that these past weeks have been exceptionally difficult for her on many levels. But she is strong. She will recover.”

I swatted at him and did my best to indicate that his sentiments were full of crap and he didn’t have permission to speak for me. Recent events had been as tough as hell, but so was I.

“I’m not weak,” I tried to say. “I’m fucking pissed.” The cough wouldn’t abate, however, and the words were reduced to a series of rusty croaks. Not cool or impressive, I acknowledged miserably.

“Relax, Vic.” Kronin broke his contemplative silence at last. “I mean that literally. Nourish your body with food, drink, and rest. Hospitality is the least I can provide you in the wake of a journey like the one you’ve had. The halls of Carcerum will no doubt refresh you as they have rejuvenated me on countless occasions. It is an honor to host you.”

Marcus helped me up and slung my arm around his shoulders. I mumbled a sullen reply.

“Thank you, my Lord,” Marcus said. “We are most grateful.”

Kronin nodded. He addressed me again. “Once your strength has returned, I shall answer for every choice I have made thus far—the good and the bad. You may judge me then as you see fit.” He stepped back and resumed his position on the gleaming throne. Marcus bowed his head and guided me toward an archway at the end of the hall.

“Where are we going?” I rasped. “I’m not done with him yet.”

“It can wait,” Marcus replied, a touch of dry amusement in his tone. “For now, Kronin is right. You need to recuperate and get strong. Time flows differently in Carcerum, but it does not stop.”

He walked me carefully through shining corridors to a luxurious bedchamber. While I dragged myself under the downy covers, the old Roman soldier brought me strange, brightly colored fruits that dripped with sweet juice, water clearer than crystal, and a ladle brimful of the mystical nectar that worked overtime to keep me alive.

I didn’t think I was hungry until he piled food on plates in front of me, balanced across the bedspread on a polished tray. Once I’d lifted the first piece of exotic fruit to my lips, I recalled suddenly that I hadn’t had anything to eat since my breakfast of bread and jerky at Shiva’s house. Marcus sat on the end of the bed, watched me devour his offerings, and smiled like a proud dad.

“You eat like a true warrior,” he said.

I licked juice off my fingertips. “At least I do something like a damn warrior.” Under the comforter, I stretched my bad leg out in search of a comfortable position. The pain had eased but it did not disappear. “I’m about to sleep like one. That’s for sure.”

“A hero’s rest,” Marcus affirmed. He cleared the empty plates away and ran a cloth over the tray. The ladle of nectar was refilled.

“I feel bad watching you act like my butler,” I confessed and took a long draught of nectar. “Don’t get me wrong. It’s also amazing. But I can’t help thinking it’s, like, a step down for you.”

The soldier laughed. He turned down the edges of the blankets and tucked them in around me. “It is no matter. To have a corporeal form at all is an occasion to be savored. I would be grateful to do anything with these hands.”

I gazed at him. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I’m really, really glad to see you but I didn’t know this was possible.” I paused. “How is it possible? I thought bringing back the dead was usually number one on the list of things that are never allowed.”

Marcus shrugged his shoulders. “No more than the miracle of Carcerum,” he answered. “I am grateful that you are allowed to experience it in all its glory.” A shadow crossed his face. “Well, some of its glory. It wasn’t always quite so…hollow.”

I shuffled down into the bed and sighed as the luxurious mattress hugged my exhausted body. “I want to ask you something, and I need you to be a hundred percent honest with me,” I said. “No, more than that. Like a thousand percent.”

My eyelids instantly became heavy. I stifled a yawn. The million thoughts in my head slowed to a crawl.

“I have never been anything but honest with you, my friend,” said Marcus. “This will always be true.”

“Good.” I rolled onto my side and faced him. “Do you know what’s going on here, for real?”

He shook his head. “We are in the same boat, Victoria. My guess is as valuable as yours.” His eyes moved toward the half-draped window that caught the light. “But one thing I do know above all else is that if Kronin is alive, all will be well. I feel it in my very soul. He has not forsaken us.”

“Hmm.” I blinked slowly and fought the powerful force that drew me into sleep. “I’m not so sure about that.”

Marcus touched my arm. “Have faith, Victoria, and hope. Sometimes, in the darkest hours, these are what carry us through.”

His words followed me down into a dreamless dark. They made me think of Deacon in the moments before I drifted off. If only faith, hope, and love could be enough.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cocooned in the finest, softest blankets I had ever felt, I slept for what might have been hours or days or weeks. All I knew when I woke up was that it was the most fulfilling rest I’d had in a long, long time. The feeling reminded me a little of life before the gods and waking up to go to work, or practice, or college classes.

Except I now woke up in Carcerum on the other side of the veil from the Himalayan Mountains. Someone had come in while I slept and dropped breakfast off on that same polished tray. I dug in and relished the sensation of being full of rich, nutritious food. Months of stews and preserved rations had dulled my taste buds, but they wasted no time and seemed to spring immediately back to life.

I leaned back on the pillows for a moment after my meal and absorbed the abundance of comfort. No wonder Marcus could never shut up about the place.

The bedroom had an adjoining bath. In my haste to fall asleep as quickly as possible, I had not used it. Now, I stood on the bath mat, stripped off my dirty, travel-worn clothes, and dropped them onto the pristine floor. The soles of my feet left smears in the basin of the tub, even though I’d worn boots on my way up the mountain. I twisted the knobs on either side of the faucet and realized they were golden. Everything here was golden.

Steam curled from the water as it swirled around my feet. I basked in the heat, my eyes closed, and grinned. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so pampered—or had the time and facilities to soak in a bathtub. My worries and fears washed away with the grime on my skin. For the moment, I felt free.

I lingered there, submerged up to my neck, until the water was gross and dingy. Then, I drained it, filled it again, and washed myself totally clean. As I lathered soap along my legs, I took a minute to inspect my sword wound closely for the first time since I’d received it. There was no more blood but it didn’t look healed, either. The skin around the incision was dark. I touched it lightly, winced, and jerked my hand back.

“Yep,” I muttered. “It still hurts.” But it was better. I could stand and walk without too much of a problem. I had dealt with far worse than occasional shooting pains.

The towels were huge and fluffy and seemed to drink the moisture right off my skin. I found a comb and ran it through my hair. The mirror told me that the dark circles under my eyes had finally decided to vacate the premises. To be honest, I didn’t look half bad. Of course, the one day I looked super good, Deacon wasn’t there to appreciate it.

The simple act of thinking about him made my stomach squeeze uncomfortably. I finished getting dressed and left the bedchamber for a self-guided tour around Carcerum. The inside of my head remained amazingly quiet as I headed down the hall. It was almost weird not to have Marcus constantly chatting away in there. Still, I wasn’t about to take total independence for granted.

Beyond Kronin’s combination banquet hall and throne room, I found an atrium that opened into the wildest gardens I had ever seen. I took a peek at the throne as I passed. It stood empty and so did the hall before it. The fragrance of flowers struck my senses as I passed beneath a glass dome that filtered sunlight down to hundreds of multicolored blooms. The garden air was sweet and heavy. It was tempting to sit on one of the ornate benches along the path, but I walked on through a door on the other side of the glass-walled greenhouse. A whole world stretched beyond the confines of the palace, and I wanted to see as much of it as possible.

The land was gorgeous and sweeping, painted in every shade imaginable—plus some I swore I’d never seen. Every blade of grass, every drop of water, and every pebble beside the immaculate roads held a muted glow in its depths. The soaring sky blazed cerulean above my head. The sun followed wherever I went and caressed my skin with its subtle warmth. Winter was nonexistent in Carcerum and I didn’t miss it all that much.

I strolled along the footpaths that threaded through the kingdom until my leg began to act up a little. It was a simple matter to find my way back. I simply needed to check the horizon for the imperial outline of Kronin’s palace. I chose a straight path toward it and approached the grounds from a different angle to which I had left them. I ended up in a smaller set of outdoor gardens artfully arranged around the base of a burbling fountain.

Kronin sat on the side of the fountain’s basin—smoking, as usual. He gazed into the rippling water, deep in rumination. I slowed my pace. Food and sleep had cooled a lot of the searing anger I’d unleashed upon my arrival in Carcerum, and although I still had some burning questions for the guy, I harbored a pang of remorse for my actions.

“Good morning,” Kronin said suddenly. He glanced at me and smiled. “You’re feeling well, I hope.” If he thought I was an asshole for shouting at him, his grace never faltered.

“Yeah,” I said sheepishly. “Much better. Listen, I’m sorry for acting like a prick—like a jerk—when I got here. I won’t take back what I said, but I realize I could have said it better.” I scratched my head. “I was in a bad way. I guess you could probably tell.”

He studied me quietly. “There is no need to apologize,” he said. “Your anger is justified. There are many things that I would perhaps change if I had the opportunity. But the past is untouchable, and so we must look to the future instead.” He stood. “Please, walk with me. I want to show you the kingdom.”

We walked the land in silence for a while, side by side as we took in the immeasurable majesty of the realm. Experiencing it with Kronin was a far different experience than it had been on my own. Miles seemed to slip by in minutes. We followed a path down to a point that overlooked a grand, sprawling city. The maze of streets lay below us, eerily devoid of life. Then, he led me in another direction through thick forests and rolling fields. Small, cozy hamlets dotted the countryside. These, too, were empty. I quickly lost count of the places we saw, and each one stood abandoned, waiting patiently for anyone to return.

“This place,” Kronin said as he stared out into the distance, “was once inhabited by beings much greater than the gods. They were the creators of all that we know today—the Earth, the gods themselves, even humanity. As you can see, they are long gone. They were gone even when I first arrived. Carcerum was empty then, the same way it is now.”

“Where did they go?” I asked.

“That is an excellent question.” He stopped to consider it and tilted his head back. The sunlight poured across his face to highlight his impeccable features. “Maybe they grew bored with their little pet project on your planet and left it behind for other, more interesting pursuits. Or they could have died, I suppose, assuming they had natural lifespans. It’s impossible to know.” He continued his walk without elaborating. I found his habitual vagueness annoying.

“Speaking of death,” I said pointedly, “I thought you were dead. And so did Marcus.”

The God-King’s smile was grim this time, and sad. “I am not dead,” he answered. “But I am dying. Delayed as its effects may be, the blow that Lorcan dealt was still a fatal one. I have survived this long thanks only to the sustaining power of this wonderful place. If not for my necessary forays down to your realm, I could have lived longer.” He shook his head. “It is not to be. The thread of my existence frays thinner as we speak. The nectar and the herbs can only do so much.”

I smirked. “I wondered how you could stand to chain-smoke like that.”

Kronin chuckled. “Yes. In fact, the smoking is what lent me so much borrowed time. The element of disguise was simply a necessary side benefit. To reveal my true identity would have been to invite an even more powerful danger upon the world. The gods’ efforts to end me once and for all would have reduced the human realm to dust.”

I chewed my lip. “Why did you do it, Kronin? It seems…” I didn’t finish the sentence.

“Stupid?” he suggested. “Naïve? Foolhardy? Perhaps it was all of those things. I wanted to ensure that the sword fell into the right hands.” He looked at me. “I believe that particular mission has been accomplished. You still have the raw strength to triumph over Delano’s plague of evil.”

“I used to think that,” I said. “Then he trounced me, and now, I’m not positive anymore. I know I need to go back but it might not be enough.”

“I doubted myself once, too,” Kronin said.

Our route meandered in a wide, lazy circle around the palace. No matter where I looked, the scene was utterly breathtaking. Sparkling waterfalls cascaded over violet, clean-cut cliffs. Verdant forests swayed in a gentle, floral-scented breeze. Birdsong floated past my ears. I had always thought Marcus was pretty full of it, the way he went on and on about Carcerum. Now that I knew it was every bit as idyllic as he’d said, a seed of resentment began to fester.

“Why the heck did you bring the gods to this place?” I demanded. We now angled gradually back toward the palace grounds. Immediately outside the garden perimeter, Marcus appeared and fell into step beside us. I spoke again, unable to suppress my irritation. “The way they whined about it, I pictured a prison.” I scoffed. “It turns out it’s more like a paradise. Too good for them.” It pissed me off to imagine scum like Lorcan being allowed to exist in this beautiful realm. He never deserved to look at it, much less live in it.

“I had no choice,” Kronin told me sadly. “Without Lorcan’s help, I could never have defeated the other gods and won the war in the first place. We both knew that, and so we made a deal. The gods were granted life in Carcerum in lieu of death on Earth. I thought it was a good bargain, one that they would accept, if not embrace.” He pressed his lips together. “Obviously, I was mistaken.”

Marcus looked pained but he remained silent. Kronin went on. “I believed with all my heart that I would be able to give the gods everything they wanted, everything to keep them happy. I failed to understand that they didn’t want to be happy. They wanted control. Lorcan had known that all along. He’d planned, bided his time, and Delano never wavered from his side.”

“Hold on.” I held up my hand. “I still don’t understand why you had to make a deal with that idiot in the first place. You’re Kronin the Almighty, wielder of the Gladius Solis. The original God-King. Why bother making deals with Lorcan or anyone else?”

“What else was I to do?” he countered. “I am only human, after all.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Marcus and I both halted abruptly and stared dumbstruck at Kronin’s back.

“Human?” Marcus murmured, disbelieving.

Kronin nodded. “I had a family, once upon a time,” he said. “A lovely wife and sweet, innocent children. We lived in a house on the outskirts of a little village. I ran a forge and made pots and horseshoes and other useful things. It was a good and simple life, and yet I still allowed myself to be pressured by a god into leaving it behind.” His face darkened briefly. “The god’s name has long since been lost in the annals of history—that’s how inconsequential he was in the end. Nonetheless, I knew no better. I packed my things up and rode out to battle in service of this tiny deity. I witnessed many horrors then, but none compared to what I found upon my return.”

“Oh, no,” I said softly.

“The gods were gone from my village,” Kronin said. “Who knows if they even made it there. It was their creatures who found and destroyed it. They burned the houses down and reduced everything to broken piles of rubble. I rode as fast as I could, hoping against hope that they might have turned back before they reached my home.” He shook his head and kept it lowered. “My wife, my children—they weren’t spared. In my grief, I made a furious vow to cleanse the world of these murdering vermin. I wanted to make sure they were indeed forgotten. I merely didn’t know how to make it happen.”

“My liege.” Marcus’s voice was full of sorrow. “I had no idea.”

Kronin continued his story, seemingly heedless of any interruption. The sentences poured out of him as if they’d been held hostage behind a dam for centuries. “I gave up everything I knew to travel the world in search of any scrap of information that could help me bring about their demise. I wanted a mass Forgotten extinction. No lead was too small, too strange, or too insignificant. I began to push the boundaries of human experience. This is what led me eventually to Carcerum.” He paused. “And Carcerum, in turn, gave me its two greatest treasures—the nectar and the Solis Stone. One granted me life from a well I perceived to be limitless. The other allowed me to forge a weapon like none other. An inimitable sword which carried in its blade the power to slay the beasts that had torn my world asunder—and the gods who had shaped their existence.”

Kronin shook his head. “With my gifts in hand, I returned to humankind and convinced them to rally behind my godlike strength. We rose up as one, millions strong, to fight back against the invasion. The war reached a fever pitch. Our clashes with the gods were brutal and bloody. Human life was lost in droves.” He gazed at his hands and his voice lowered. “I came to realize the sword alone was not enough, and neither was my iron will. The army I had amassed was no match for the gods and their Apprenti. They were too formidable, and we were severely outnumbered. Every victory of ours came with a dozen setbacks. The gods constantly replenished their forces. I thought the war would rage forever until the Earth was nothing but a dead husk of a planet.

“Then, an emissary arrived in our midst. His name was Delano, and he had been sent by his master Lorcan, a death god. The offer he presented was undeniable. If I had dared refuse, all of humanity would have been extinguished. It was only a matter of time.” He rubbed a hand across his face. The lustrous color in his skin had started to fade slightly. “The deal was struck. The war ended and I brought the gods here to Carcerum.” His mouth turned down into the shadow of a scowl. “We left the other riffraff behind. The threat of serving time in Asphodel was enough to force them into hiding their true natures. And that was how we kept the balance for thousands of years.”

“Wow.” I whistled. I had no idea what else to say.

Kronin walked a few more yards and sat heavily on a bench. He was definitely paler and his fingers fumbled slightly as he withdrew a cigarette. He lit it, leaned back, and dragged on it. “I need not say again that my days are numbered,” he said. “I am sorry that I won’t be able to finish the fight I started. My burdens have at last become too much for me to bear alone, and that means they have fallen to you, Vic. All those years ago, I never dreamed it might one day come to this.”

I looked at him. “Kronin, I can’t carry your burdens. I’ve already failed. Delano has the sword now.” A lump stuck in my throat although I tried to push it back. “There’s nothing more I can do.”

The God-King puffed out a lungful of smoke in perfect rings. He watched them float away before he turned back to me and grinned. He struck me as awfully serene for a guy who was steps away from dying.

“Why does it matter so much that Delano has the Gladius Solis?” Kronin asked.

I arched my eyebrows. “Uh…because that’s the sword you forged from the magic stone. I listened to that whole thing, man. You can’t pull some trick question crap on me.”

His grin widened. “Sure, but who said the Gladius Solis was the only one of its kind?”

For about the third time that morning, my jaw practically hit the floor. “Say what now?”

Kronin inhaled. “It’s exactly as I said. The Gladius Solis is currently unique—but it doesn’t have to be.” He flicked his gaze over to the centurion. “Would you bring me something to eat, old friend? I’m afraid my endurance is not what it used to be.”

Marcus snapped to full attention. “Of course, my lord. Right away.” He disappeared down a path toward the palace and Kronin directed me a similar way. We walked side by side and both of us limped slightly.

“What’s this new weapon?” I asked him, curious.

“That’s up to you, Vic,” Kronin replied. “You’re the one who will bring it to life.”

The building we entered was separate from the palace and huge in its own right, towering high into the sky. The God-King led me into the basement and along a mess of labyrinthian corridors to the door of a massive underground vault. It stood open enough for a person to slip inside, which was what we did. Torches lit up on the interior walls to banish the darkness.

I looked around. The vault was almost empty. A small pile of strange, glimmering rock lay near the middle of the floor. He went over, picked up the tiniest piece in his hand, and beckoned me closer. “Long ago, this Solis Stone was plentiful in Carcerum,” he said. “This is all that remains.”

I gazed at the metal. “There isn’t that much,” I remarked. “That’s messed up. I thought you said the Gladius Solis was unique.”

“It is.” Kronin turned the small shard of stone in his palm. “There is more than one use for Solis Stone. How do you think gods are made?” He tapped his finger against it. “The creators shaped the gods from the stone and it granted them their powers. But they would be easy prey to a Solis weapon.”

“That’s why the sword works so well on them!” I exclaimed. “Holy crap! What are we waiting for? We have to make another one.”

The God-King stopped me. “I want to tell you something first.” His voice and eyes were somber. “No doubt you have noticed that Marcus, despite having been irrefutably killed some time ago, is able to regain his physical form and walk around here.” He gestured to the medallion around my neck. “This pendant is infused with traces of Solis Stone which gives it the ability to preserve and restore spirits.”

“Okay.” I frowned. “I get it. There’s more than one use. I still want to make another sword.”

He pressed on. “I can give you a choice. You can forge a new weapon, as you think you want to do. You can take this weapon back to the temple and use it to fight Delano. I must let you know that I have no knowledge of what that outcome will be.” He glanced at the Solis Stone. “Or, you can choose to spend your days here in peace. With Marcus…and your family.”

At first, I didn’t think I heard him correctly. “Sorry?” I asked. “My family’s gone.”

Kronin gave me the look of a teacher who had to spend extra time with a particularly slow student. “As I said, Solis Stone preserves spirits. Here.” He took my hand and placed my palm on the smooth, cold slab. “Keep your hand there,” he said. “Speak their names.”

He moved past me to wait outside the vault.

My heart did a weird little flutter. I could hear my pulse in my ears. My mouth went suddenly dry, and it was hard to conjure the voice I needed to say the right things. It seemed impossible to say their names, so I simply called them as I always had.

“Mom,” I said. “Dad.”

The surrounding stillness deepened. Murky shadows moved across the surface of the stone. One moment, I was alone in the vault, and the next, my parents were there in front of me.

“Victoria,” my mother said quietly. “My goodness, how long it’s been?” Her eyes, the same as mine, glittered with barely repressed tears.

My father smiled, his arm around her shoulders. “Still my little girl,” he said.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The room was as dark as I could make it and the drapes that hung down over the bed were pulled tight, but I still couldn’t keep my eyes closed. I lay on my back, looked at the canopy above me, and mulled over everything Kronin had shown me that day. The incredible beauty of his empty kingdom. The truth of his own history. My parents summoned to life years after their murders. I had finally made peace with the part of myself that had lusted after vengeance. I’d laid their ghosts to rest.

And yet, they were with me, no different than they had been the last time I saw them alive. It was like no time had passed at all, except that we all knew it had. I was so relieved to see they were happy and at peace. But I was also mortified. My mother and father were not violent people. I’d never imagined a scenario where they knew what happened to me after they died, much less one where we had to talk about it.

It was weird until my dad said he was proud of me. Then, it was awesome.

He’d given me one of his trademark bear hugs, the kind that lifted me off my feet. My mom had kissed my cheek and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. So many things I never thought I’d be able to feel again, and I had them for those few moments. Part of me did want to hold on to them forever.

It was agonizing to take my hand off that stone and watch them fade away, a flash-grenade of grief in my chest. But that storm passed quickly, supplanted by the echoes of their love. Even now, I still smelled traces of my mother’s favorite perfume.

I missed them so much. Seeing them again had made me painfully aware of the void they left behind. The notion that I could have that life again in Carcerum was sorely tempting. No pain, no war, no violence. Only me and my parents and Marcus, kicking back and eating all the weird, delicious fruit we wanted.

But no Deacon either. I curled up as he entered my mind and braced for the ruthless flood of emotions. The thought of leaving him with Delano filled me with guilt. Before I saw my parents, I had known I couldn’t abandon him.

Did I still know that after?

“Ugh.” I sat up in the bed. “Marcus?”

He didn’t answer, so I closed my hand around the medallion and had a moment of panic when I found it cold. Then I remembered he wasn’t in there.

“Oh, yeah.” I shook my head, ran a hand through my hair, and swung my feet over the side of the mattress. Sleep would clearly not happen anytime soon. What I needed was a friendly ear.

Carcerum’s sky was studded with diamond stars on a velvet backdrop. The moonlight bathed the land in a mythical silver glow, bright enough to light my way as I set out to find Marcus. I had no idea where his quarters were or if he even needed to sleep. I merely turned my brain off and tracked my inner compass. The old guy was basically a part of me by now anyway.

Still, it took a while to find him. Not that I minded exploring Carcerum at night. The whole place was like something out of a fairytale, one that always ended well. I wandered along the roads for about an hour while I kept a watchful eye out for any signs of a Roman centurion. At last, my gaze snagged on a light in the window of a smallish out-building. Its door was left slightly ajar. I went to the edge of the frame and peered inside.

Marcus stood in front of a large oval mirror. The glass was reflective, but not of anything in front of it. Shapes appeared to shift across its surface. I stepped into the building. “Hey, there you are.”

Marcus glanced up. “Hail, Victoria,” he said. “Sleep eludes you, I see.”

I shrugged. “Nothing new there. What are you looking at?” I stepped beside him.

Marcus stared into the depths of the mirror. “It was once my job to watch Earth from here to make sure no Forgotten had broken Kronin’s law. This mirror can show you anything in the world you desire to see, in the past and in the present. It has always helped to keep my vision clear.”

In the silvery field of the glass, a slender man strode down a dark pathway. “What’s on now?” I asked.

“We are witnessing the rise of our foe,” Marcus said. A second later, the man turned to the side and I saw a glimpse of his face. It was Delano, younger and closer to the way he used to look. His hair wasn’t too long yet, and his skin hadn’t developed its sallow undertones, but I’d have known him a mile away. He had a mean ax in his hands.

We watched in grim silence as Delano brought that ax into a house and used it to hack through a whole family. He emerged bloody and superficially wounded by his own vicious enthusiasm but unmistakably triumphant.

“What the fuck?” I said. “Was that his family?” The legend Marcus had told me about Delano’s sacrifice to Lorcan ran through my head. “All that crazy stuff people said about him was real.”

“Yes,” Marcus said. The image shifted to show Delano walking down another path as he wound his way toward a vaguely familiar temple. He was met by Lorcan. His hands were still covered in blood.

Then, Lorcan gave Delano a knife, which the man promptly used on himself. “Gross!” I exclaimed once it became apparent that the lump of flesh he held out to Lorcan was his own heart. He collapsed and died at his master’s feet.

“This is so fucked,” I said. The image shifted once more, and I couldn’t look away.

Delano in the present filled the mirror. He was clearly inside his own temple, and his face was twisted into the most awful smile. The view switched suddenly.

I bristled. “Oh, fuck!” He had my crew strung up on the walls of his grand hall, primed for torture. I watched helplessly as he carved intricate designs into Maya’s stomach with his own claws. Sweat poured down her face but the vet didn’t make a sound.

“I know you know where the little rat is hiding,” Delano said cheerfully. “And frankly, I’m running out of patience.” He turned from Maya, lunged at Steph, and grabbed her by the throat. She gasped for air.

I heard Frank shout. “Get off her! I’ll fucking kill you.”

Delano laughed. “Oh, I doubt that very much.” He bore down on Steph until her face began to turn blue and he let go to sneer as she choked for air. Relentless, he walked around to every one of my crew. Jules and Brax were close together and held hands. Delano pressed a red-hot chain link to her skin. She screamed but she did not break. Brax looked like he wanted to crack the planet in half.

The only one I couldn’t see or hear was Deacon. My heart wanted to believe that was because he’d somehow managed to escape, but I knew better than to count on it. I desperately needed to know where he was. At the same time, I feared the answer so I kept my questions inside. To voice them would make it all too real.

In the glass, Delano threw his head back, an expression of sheer glee plastered over his face. He had never, ever looked happier. It made me want to puke.

And it made me absolutely furious. To stand at the window, so to speak, unable to take any sort of action, was torture in its own right. I barely noticed that my fingernails had drawn crescents of blood from my palms. I was too fixated on Delano and how far out of my reach he was.

“I take back everything I said about Carcerum being a paradise,” I said. “I get it now. I fucking get it.” There was nothing hidden from me—nothing in the whole damn world—but I couldn’t influence any of it. So what did it matter?

Delano’s face loomed large in the glass. He was mocking me. “Fuck!” I shouted. I swung before I thought. The mirror shattered and splinters skidded across the floor. I stood there glowering at its empty stand.

“Victoria?” Marcus asked.

I turned to face him. “I know what I have to do.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Marcus opened his mouth, presumably to ask me what the hell I was talking about. I brushed past him before he could speak, eager to get back to the vault and put my plan in motion. He called after me from the door. “Victoria!”

“I’ll meet you there!” I called back. “Trust me, Marcus. This can’t wait!”

“I understand your urgency, but—” He caught up with me and pointed in a different direction. “If you plan to return to the vault, the building is that way.”

“Oh.” I changed course. “Right, I knew that.”

He patted my back. “Worry not, my friend. I shall pretend I witnessed nothing.”

To my surprise, the door to the basement vault room was open and a soft light emanated from inside. Marcus and I exchanged a glance as we descended the stairwell into the subterranean level. There was only one person it could really be. Sure enough, Kronin emerged from the vault in front of us with the last block of Solis Stone held in his arms.

Marcus stepped forward. “My liege,” he said. “Let me help you.”

The God-King shook his head. “Not this time, Marcus. The forging of a new Solis weapon is my duty and my honor.” He looked at me. “Wait here inside the vault. I’ll fetch you once the forge is primed.” He hurried past me, his stride long and purposeful. We stepped into the vault’s now empty belly.

“A new weapon?” Marcus asked.

“Yeah.” I rubbed at the traces of dust on the floor with my toe. “Another sword is the only thing that’ll defeat Delano, so we have to make one. Then we take it back to his stupid, ugly temple and we ruin his day with it. You’re in, right?”

The centurion smiled. “Must you ask? Of course I will accompany you.” He paused. “But not a sword.”

I gave him a look. “It has to be a sword, Marcus. I won’t go into that fight armed with a holy golf club.”

“You do not understand,” he said patiently. “The sword is an instrument of equality—swordsmen begin and end on equal footing, no matter the outcome. You have used it thus far to put down hordes of lesser beings, and it has certainly served you well, but it is not for slaying demons. For that, you require a spear.”

“That’s a load of crap,” I said. “There are a million fairytales about knights who bring swords into dragon lairs. If it’s good enough for Saint George, it’s good enough for me.” The deep whooshing sound of a kindled flame rushed to my ears and I glanced up to see a flood of warm light spread over the outside corridor. The burning hum of Kronin’s forge resonated in the walls like a voice. Goosebumps stood up on my arms.

Marcus watched me knowingly. “Those fairytales were no doubt written by fat old men, not by experienced warriors such as yours truly.” For emphasis, he dusted his shoulder plate with a dramatic gesture.

I rolled my eyes but laughed anyway. How amazing it was to be there in Carcerum with Marcus. A small miracle amid all the darkness of the last few weeks. “I’d bet my life that you’ve never written a shopping list, let alone an entire classic fairytale,” I said.

“Well, I’ve lived my fair share,” Marcus answered. “And I know the villain never dies in glory.”

“No,” I interjected. “That’s the hero’s job.”

Marcus put his hands on my arms and stared deep into my eyes. A spark of intensity burned within him and charged his words. “Victoria, listen. You saw as well as I that Delano is a monster, that he always has been. Nothing in the universe or beyond could elevate him to the level of your equal. I must urge you not to create another sword, only to sully its edge with his blood. He is not even worthy to speak your name.” Marcus took a deep breath. “Delano is but a worm. He deserves to die like one.”

I grinned. “I knew there was a reason I missed you, old man. No one gives an inspirational speech like you do.”

He puffed his chest out. “It is a talent I acquired in Rome. My efforts to pass it on to you have had middling results.”

“Hey!” I prodded him lightly in the chest. “I’m very inspiring if I do say so myself. Lord knows no one else gives speeches in the mess hall at Fort Victory.”

“Your inspiration lies more in your actions than your words,” Marcus said. “You have stepped up and carved your mark upon the face of humanity. They will remember you, alive or dead, for generations to come.”

I raised my eyebrows. “At least if I die, it’ll be as glorious as hell. I think I want a Viking funeral. Like with the boat and the fire. Burn me with all my shit, too, so nobody else can have it.”

Marcus chuckled. “Again, you are mistaken,” he said. “Heroes die in tragedies. And that is not the kind of tale we will write.”

“Oh, so that makes this a comedy and I’m headed for a wedding instead? Thanks for—” I stopped talking as the sentimental side of my brain immediately thought about Deacon. I looked away abruptly. Sudden impatience overtook my heart, and I eyed the corridor in anticipation of Kronin’s interruption. The forge’s fire had built to a dull roar.

“It is almost time,” Marcus declared. “I am so very proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, buddy,” I said. We were quiet for a few seconds, each of us deep in thought. “I wonder if he waited here because he knew what I’d do without him having to ask.”

“Kronin is wiser than most,” the centurion said and shifted his weight. “But perhaps it is foolish to call him wise above all else. He has overlooked true intentions in the past, has he not? I have no doubt he wanted to be sure this time.”

“Why even give me the choice?” I mused, half to myself. Then I realized that seeing my parents had only hardened my resolve to stop Delano once and for all. I missed them, yes, but that wound had long ago begun its healing process. Even if they weren’t with me, I could hold them in my heart until I met them again.

I couldn’t build humanity from the unrecognizable mess Delano wished to create. There’d be nothing left, for one thing. We were a plague of insects that he sought to exterminate. He thought we were worthless.

I knew better than that.

A flickering shadow fell across the floor in the hallway and approached the threshold of the vault. Marcus and I both looked at Kronin who stood in the open doorway. The king’s brilliant eyes locked onto mine. “Are you ready, Vic?” he asked.

I moved toward him. “There’s no doubt in my mind.”

“Excellent.” Kronin nodded approvingly. “Your sword awaits.”

“Not a sword,” I responded and glanced over my shoulder at Marcus. “A spear.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The forge was massive with a blazing inferno like a small star burning at its heart. The dry heat crackled on my skin and I squinted into the light. The Solis Stone sat atop the smithy in the center. Its surface had already begun to glow. The fire seemed to arc through the stone itself and infused it with its wild power.

“Take this,” Kronin said and handed me a long-handled hammer. He had to raise his voice to be heard above the forge. The tool was astonishingly heavy. If I hadn’t braced myself at the last second, I might have dropped it, but I tightened my grip and gave it a truncated test swing.

The weighted head dropped in a brutal downward arc.

“Good,” said the god. “That’s the kind of power we’ll need.” He walked to the smithy and motioned for me to move into position beside him. “I will hold the Solis Stone in place. You strike it and don’t hold back.” I looked at his bare hands and back at him. His beatific face held no trace of humor. “Trust me, Vic. I am the only one who has the strength. I can endure.”

The breath I took filled my lungs with hot, dusty air. I squared my stance at the edge of the smithy, fixed my gaze on the raw, unshaped material, and raised the forge hammer. The flat side struck the Solis Stone with a shower of white-hot sparks, and at the same time, an agonized scream sliced through the chamber. I tensed, the hammer raised, and scanned the vicinity for the source of the sound.

Kronin leaned over the smithy. His hands anchored the far end of the stone and its power leaked through his skin. The muscles of his strong jaw clenched so tightly that they trembled. Sweat rolled down his brow. The veins in his neck and arms bulged. But when he spoke, he was resolute. I had never heard a steadier voice.

“I can endure,” he repeated. “Do not stop. The fate of the world depends on this success. Push me from your thoughts and focus only on the task at hand. Go!”

The hammer rose and fell again and again. Each time, a geyser of sparks was followed by a tortured cry. I steeled my will until his suffering fused with the roar of the forge and layered itself into the ambient soundtrack of my work. After that, I didn’t stop except to keep the perspiration from dripping down into my eyes. My strikes grew faster and more precise. The spear began to emerge beneath the heavy rain of blows.

Kronin’s voice turned hoarse. I didn’t allow myself to look at him, afraid I’d lose my nerve if I was disturbed by what I saw. I simply held the hammer tighter and leaned into the heat. My shirt clung to my back. Locks of hair streaked down the sides of my face and plastered onto my cheeks. The feeling in my arms slowly numbed. Still, I kept at it. When it was time to stop, Kronin would tell me.

And he did, in a sense. I followed through into my next strike when I noticed he no longer hung over the side of the smithy and struggled through the spear’s creation. He lay crumpled on the floor, utterly spent with his eyes half closed. If I had considered him pale before, he was ghostly now.

“Take it up,” he murmured. His voice, although frail, somehow still managed to carry to my ears. “Plunge it into the water and gaze upon your handiwork.”

I did as I was told and tossed the spear into its first cold bath. Steam billowed from the water and obscured everything in a thick cloud. When I put my hand back in, the water was almost hot and my fingers closed around something that felt like a real weapon. The glistening spear emerged from the fog and still shed droplets that hissed into vapor on contact with the surface of the smithy. I held it as though it was made of glass and not an ethereal resource of the gods. Fine details that I hadn’t carved slowly and subtly adorned the shaft. It reminded me, unsurprisingly, of the Gladius Solis.

I spun to feel the weight of the spear in my hands. The blade was light, nimble, and devastatingly sharp. I fumbled a little with the much longer shaft. “This will take some getting used to,” I said, but I brimmed with the kind of pride that only comes with accomplishment. As much as I loved that fiery sword and as well as I’d learned to wield it, Kronin’s original blade was a hand-me-down, an inheritance from Marcus. This spear was as much mine as it could possibly be. I examined it with a grin.

When I turned to show Kronin, my pride turned to concern in an instant. He lay where he had fallen beside the forge, motionless except for the uneven rise and fall of his chest. I set the spear down and ran to him. Behind me, footsteps entered the area.

“My liege!” Marcus exclaimed. “What happened?” We fell to our knees alongside the king.

Kronin smiled at us. “Thank you,” he said haltingly. “For carrying me to the end of my long and winding path. Forging the final weapon required the last of my strength. I am afraid that very soon, I must leave you. For good, this time.” Pure exhaustion seemed to erode his features. The ends of his words dropped off and I could sense him beginning to slip away.

“I’m sorry, Kronin,” I told him. “This isn’t the end you deserve.”

The God-King chuckled weakly. “It’s funny you should say that,” he whispered. “Take care of this place in my absence and take care of humanity.”

“I have to save it first,” I told him.

He closed his eyes. “You will.” His voice faded rapidly. “Regret nothing. I have never been prouder.” One last breath rattled into his lungs and was expelled after a long lull. It carried his spirit away and left us kneeling over his body.

When I started to rise, Marcus stopped me. I was about to ask him why when the king’s body changed and seemed to accelerate through millennia of aging in a matter of seconds. At the end, all that was left of Kronin, king of the gods, was a pile of dust.

I’d seen the process take place once before when Marcus died in the slaughterhouse. The centurion sat for a moment longer and contemplated the ashes that had been his beloved sovereign less than a minute before. “It was true,” he said quietly. “Kronin was human, and yet he was the one who managed to wrangle order out of this mess of chaos.”

I pushed to my feet. The ever-present wound in my leg released a twinge of pain whenever I put weight on it. I bent and picked up the spear. “He’s a tough act to follow,” I told Marcus. “But someone has to do it.”

The old Roman’s solemn air of mourning morphed into peace as he joined me. We took one last shared look at the looming forge before Marcus doused its fire and rendered the beast dormant. He glanced at me, then at the spear in my hand. “It is time to return to Earth,” he said. “Our work here—and Kronin’s—is done.”

I nodded. Neither of us made a move to disturb the remains of Carcerum’s late ruler. He had earned eternal serenity at last and sleep in the shadow of the forge that birthed his legacy.

“Let’s go.” I lifted the spear clear of the floor and headed for the basement stairs. “I don’t know how much time we have left.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

With Kronin dead, the true emptiness of Carcerum descended on the palace like a heavy black pall. As we crossed the throne room and banquet hall, it felt as if we waded along the ocean floor. The throne itself stood conspicuously vacant in the vast chamber. Part of me hoped it would never be occupied again.

“I was wrong before,” Marcus conceded while he kept pace beside me. “This part of the story is a tragedy.”

“It’s not over yet,” I replied. “We still have a whole lot of Forgotten ass to kick.”

“For Kronin,” the centurion declared.

“For mankind,” I added.

The huge portal that led out of the realm set deep into the palace wall towered above us. It looked far too heavy to open on my own, but as we drew closer, my spear began to glow. The light intensified until it was impossible to look at it directly. I paused within arm’s reach of the ancient door.

“Oh, shit.” An unpleasant thought flitted through my brain. “You need to go back into the medallion, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Marcus said. “Unfortunately, the ending of my tenure on Earth destroyed my ability to inhabit it in a corporeal form.”

“That blows,” I said. “I’m really sorry. I wish there was something we could do.”

“It matters not,” he assured me. “If it means that I may remain by your side, I shall gladly make every sacrifice.” He put a hand into his pocket and withdrew a closed fist. “Briefly, before we depart—I have brought you a modest gift.” He opened his fingers and there, nestled in his palm, was a piece of the mirror I had shattered in anger. “It used to be much nicer. And larger. But earlier tonight, someone came in and broke it. I have absolutely no idea who that might have been.”

I chuckled. “Sorry. I guess I’m much like a bull in a china shop sometimes.” The mirror shard glinted but it remained blank. I slipped it into the lining of my coat for safekeeping before I turned my attention to the spear. Its current form simply wasn’t practical at all. Walking with the thing held clear of the ground was awkward at best and horribly annoying at worst. I shifted my weight off my bad leg while I considered my options. Suddenly, inspiration struck like a bolt from the blue.

The spear’s glow intensified again, and this time, the great door out of Carcerum swung open far enough to allow me through. I focused my will on the weapon like a laser, and it transformed into a harmless walking stick in my hand. My whole leg flooded with relief once I redistributed my weight.

“That’s better,” I said with a sigh of satisfaction. A constant blast of cold air rocketed into my face from the other side of the door. I stepped through, and my foot sank instantly into a few inches of fresh snow. A howling, snowy wind raked its fingers through my hair and the breath seemed to freeze in my lungs once again.

“It’s good to be back,” I gasped. Marcus’s medallion regained its distinctive warmth and his voice sounded in my ears.

It will be better to be back at sea level.

I pulled the collar of my jacket up and tucked my chin down against the cold. “Agreed.”

The wind kicked up flurries of snow and ice every second, which reduced visibility to almost nothing. I had, evidently, chosen to make my exit from Carcerum in the middle of an Earth-based storm atop the Himalayan peak that served as the connection between realms. The safest thing to do was to perhaps duck as low as possible and try to feel my way backward until I hopefully determined where I was. I’d barely begun the uncomfortable exercise that way when a voice cut through the gale.

“Vic? Is that you?”

I whipped my head around and searched for Shiva in the whiteout. My maternal instinct reared its rare and frustrated head. What the hell was that crazy kid doing on a mountaintop in the middle of a storm? Never mind that I was there too, or that he had likely come to find me.

“Shiva!” I called and hoped his name would carry far enough to be heard. “Where are you?”

“Vic?” he called again. I swung gingerly to peer into the whirling snow on the west edge of the summit. Shiva trudged into sight, hunched against the elements. My heart skipped a beat.

I waved like crazy until I was sure he’d seen me through the squall. The moment he moved within earshot, I said, “You should be at home, Shiva. You probably know that better than I do.”

He shrugged. “I need help. We need help—the whole town. We need someone strong enough to kill gods.” His big brown eyes peered at me from between layers of scarf. “You are the only one I could think of.”

Distracted, I frowned at him. “Gods?” The last I’d seen, there hadn’t been any in Shiva’s town except the bizarrely peaceable Forgotten. “This is new.”

He nodded. “It is. Just before sunset on the day you left, a god arrived. The entire town is held hostage. I am not sure what will happen to them.” An edge of real fear underpinned his calm voice. “We must destroy this being by any means necessary. Please.”

I ran my thumb along the warm wood of the walking stick where the edge of my spear would be. “Relax,” I told him. “Keep your head on straight and show me the way. I’ll take care of this.”

Shiva turned on a dime like a damn mountain goat, and I swore he bounded down the sheer mountain face. It took so much effort to keep up that I didn’t have the breath to call for him to slow the hell down a little. Soon, I resorted to a more or less blind slide down the route I thought he took and relied on the stick more and more in the low visibility.

I have to say, the one thing I do appreciate about this noncorporeal arrangement is not having to do any of the physical work.

“Ha ha,” I muttered. “I think you missed your calling as a stand-up comedian.”

I felt Marcus frown. What other type of humorist is there? He paused as if in thought. I suppose he could be disabled, such that he would be unable to stand.

“Ugh, Forget it.” I levered myself away from a frozen boulder that protruded from the mountain. “Man, that kid is like lightning. I hope he waits for us when he gets down there.”

I soon saw that my prayers had been answered as I identified Shiva’s bluish silhouette near the bottom of the mountain. He beckoned frantically to me. There was no rickshaw to carry us into town, but my pace was probably faster anyway, even with the limp.

“Do not let her see you,” Shiva implored. “She is suspicious of everyone and will gladly fight.”

I shrugged. “I might be interested in that, depending on the circumstances.” Shiva showed real concern at that. I clapped him on the shoulder with the hand that didn’t hold my disguised spear. “Don’t sweat it, kid. By now, I’m as close to a professional as you’ll find.”

And frankly, I was a little excited by the prospect of getting back to business. Delano had proven that he was nothing to fuck with. Whoever had rolled into Shiva’s hometown was about to serve as the perfect warmup to get me back in the game.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A quarter of a mile outside of town, where the road began to widen into the main stone-paved street of Shiva’s home, the kid motioned for me to use stealth rather than speed. Our pace slowed significantly as we concentrated on the need to be as quiet as possible. He seemed to think the element of surprise was crucial to our well-being. With my spear in hand, I wasn’t so sure it would matter. The fighter in me cracked her knuckles and literally itched for a fight. I’d had my rest and it was time to get back in the mix.

The angular, stacked houses gradually took shape through the storm and the central street rolled out before us. This time, our surroundings were empty. Doors and windows hung open and fires smoldered unattended on open hearths. I snuck a glance inside one or two of the homes on our way past. There were signs of life everywhere, but it was as if the people had simply dropped everything and walked away.

“Where are they?” I asked Shiva, my voice barely audible. He pointed up the street toward the center of the town. A weird, dense mass blocked my view past a certain point. It soon became apparent that this was a mob that consisted of the entire town. They’d been herded into the open space in the road and now stood unmoving, facing forward. No one spoke, and their silence was eerily ominous.

The scene struck me as disturbingly familiar. I’d seen the same blank, passive stares over and over again in places where a god tried to exercise their authority. Rocca’s minions, Oxylem’s lumber camps, and the Midwest town overrun by ogres. They always wanted the same thing from humanity—total compliance. And unfortunately, they were all in a position to enforce that demand.

Shiva pulled me into one of the alleys between the houses and peered around the corner into the roadway. “She has trapped the entire town,” he told me. “I was lucky to escape without notice.”

This god reeks of overconfidence, Marcus told me. Take her down swiftly.

I nodded toward the front of the throng. “She’s up there?”

The boy nodded, and I slipped out of the alley to join the masses. Those gathered there barely glanced at me as I began to work my way slowly forward. I kept my ears open for any clue as to who this unidentified god might be, and it didn’t take long for a woman’s harsh, grating voice to reach me through the clear, cold air.

“Rise!” she screeched. “Look at yourselves, stooping to the level of this filth. These mortals are unworthy of even an ounce of your blood. Follow me to glory, my brothers and sisters. Destroy the humans. Let them die with their forsaken world. Think of it as mercy, if you must consider them at all.”

The humans kept their eyes downcast, but the Forgotten scattered throughout the crowd looked toward the voice. I weaved carefully in and out until I paused as close to the front as I dared. The god held court in the middle of the street and glared at her unwilling subjects. She was tall and curvy, a beautiful, cruel-faced woman from the waist up. Torrents of inky hair curled down her back. Ruby-red lips framed her needle-sharp teeth. Her lower half smoothed into a creepy, limbless body that glimmered with scales. The tip of her coiled tail twitched back and forth.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped to the onlookers in the front row and panned hungrily across their faces. She lunged forward, grabbed a small, bestial Forgotten by the scruff of its neck, and yanked it off the ground. Her muscular tail wrapped around its torso. The Forgotten’s hooves attempted a few futile kicks but the tail’s grip tightened around the creature’s ribcage. The crack of breaking bones cut through the deep silence and several humans flinched.

“If you care about this little whelp, come and stop me,” the god taunted. She stuck out her slimy tongue and waggled it obscenely. “I don’t see any challengers. Cowards, all of you.”

Another rib snapped beneath the crushing force of her tail. Her prey emitted a gasped squeal. Its eyes had begun to bulge in their sockets.

“How can you choose the scum of this earth over one of your own?” she demanded. Anger flashed white-hot in her eyes. “They are not fit to wash their own blood from your feet.”

“Stand down, hag.” The voice was deep and resonant and commanded attention. It came from an extraordinarily tall creature that resembled a hybrid of a werewolf and a tree giant. His skin was rough like bark, but each branch arm ended in sharp, striking claws. The eyes in his wise old face burned yellow and a mane of foliage flowed from his head. “Those of us who came here to seek refuge from your kind will not betray our mortal siblings. Begone, or we will drive you out, no matter what the cost.”

The god flared her nostrils and hissed disdain. “Our kind?” Her indignation gave rise to a shrill guffaw of delight. “Do you honestly believe that this layer of human scum is your family? There are no words to describe how far beneath you they are. Answer the call of your superior blood. Accept the privilege that is your right and which your strength bestows upon you. Do not fritter your days away like this, doing nothing and idolizing a worthless peace.” Her expression switched instantly to disgust. “You owe them nothing. They should surrender their lives in deference to a greater power.”

The old Forgotten shook his head. A hand grabbed onto my wrist from behind, and when I turned, Shiva was there. “What do we do?”

I grinned at him. “We show this bitch what real power looks like.”

With that, I stepped through the people who blocked my path and out of the captive audience. The town held its breath, human and Forgotten alike. Every eye was glued on me.

The god swiveled in my direction. Her initial confusion quickly gave way to insult and rage when she realized I was simply some jerk who’d showed up to dispute her authority. Her lips curled into a sneer at the edges. She released her grip on the small, miserable Forgotten, who dropped to the ground with a heavy thump.

“You must be joking.” The god laughed. “I’m almost offended that this is the best you have to offer. There is nothing an ignorant, crippled girl can do to stop me.”

I tightened my hand around the top of the walking stick. The haft of the spear hummed within its magical disguise. “You forgot one very important detail,” I told her. “I’m ignorant, crippled, and armed to the fucking teeth.” In an instant, the stick was a spear and I hurled its shining point directly at the god’s ugly heart. Her body offered no resistance. She uttered an ear-piercing screech as she fell to the freezing stone, mortally wounded but not quite dead. Thick, violet blood pumped from her new wound.

The townspeople gasped collectively and shoved up behind me for a better look at the downed god. She tried in vain to right herself in the spreading pool of blood. It seeped into the ground and trickled along the cracks in the street.

I held up my hand to summon the spear and it flew back into my palm. “Whose blood from whose feet?” I asked before I turned my back on her to face the mixed population of the mountain town. Human faces regarded me calmly alongside Forgotten with no traces of fear or apprehension. I nodded. This was the way it could be. The way it should be for the future.

“This is a town that has thrived in the midst of a horrendous war,” I declared. My voice seemed amplified and strong. Shiva began a running translation into the native tongue. The eyes on me were rapt with interest. “You have thrown off the shackles of prejudice and intolerance, and in doing so, created a haven where all manner of life can feel safe. The heart of your town beats strongest as you live as neighbors and work together in harmony.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through them. People began to smile, tentatively at first but with growing confidence.

“That’s right,” I told them. “And now, I encourage you to keep that cooperative spirit alive by sending this foolish entity to her grave.” At my back, the god no longer thrashed with such desperate ferocity. She lay on her side and wheezed and gurgled. Her distress was drowned out by the cheer that went up after Shiva translated my last sentence. I smiled. “Have at it.”

The crowd surged forward and released bloodthirsty, rallying cries up to the heavens. I moved against the living current and walked away. Presently, another cry joined the cacophony produced by the town. The god screamed as they fell on her and presumably tore her to pieces. The shriek pierced shrilly through the roar of the crowd for a few seconds and then it was gone.

You are smiling, Victoria, Marcus observed. What makes you so happy?

I made no effort to conceal my joy. For the first time since we’d arrived in Indiana, a sense of inner peace had taken root in my heart. “Because, Marcus…” I clasped the medallion warmly in my hand. “I know how I will defeat Delano.”

Chapter Thirty

I sat behind the wheel of the new SUV and stared out the windshield at the stark expanse of Indiana cornfields. The sky stretched on forever over miles of dirt and snow, a landscape that had been so far away only days before. That morning, I had touched down at yet another teeny regional airfield a hundred miles east in another miniscule plane. The journey, at least, had been calmer and less death-defying. It had included a boat this time, too, and a short ride on a commuter train somewhere in Asia that was empty except for the operator and me. A slideshow of devastation had flashed by the windows while we raced through tunnel after tunnel. Even the underground stations were trashed.

After the train, I proceeded through a never-ending series of cars and trucks. I had hoped that Asia might have fared better than the West during the gods’ takeover, but the snapshot of the continent that I witnessed told a very similar story. My travels didn’t take me through the heart of any major metropolises, but I had to assume the destruction there was comparable to New York—or worse. With so many people so close together, they wouldn’t stand a chance

By the time I finally rolled out toward Indiana, I had seen enough variations of empty countryside to last me a dozen lifetimes. Of course, the last two hours had been nothing but the American flavor of farmland. All the overgrown grass and dreary winter palette had begun to blend together after the vibrant colors of Carcerum.

I still struggled to believe that I’d actually been there, stood at the base of Kronin’s throne, walked the footpaths around his palace grounds, and knelt beside the forge where he died. It could have been yesterday, or it could have been millennia before.

Still, all I had to do to prove those memories real beyond a shadow of a doubt was look to my right at the spear that lay across the passenger seat. Once I left the Himalayas behind, it never looked like a walking stick again. I liked to feel its true shape as a reminder of where I had come from—and what I had to do.

I wondered if Delano knew his days were numbered. If he didn’t already, he soon would.

The SUV bumped over the uneven, scarred ground and headed due west toward the temple. I knew exactly which landmark I searched for, and eventually, I saw it—a lone truck that stood as the last remnant of our first ill-fated mission. To see it there where I had abandoned it in my mad dash to South Asia brought a rush of every emotion I had experienced over the last week. Anger that things had gone so poorly. Fear that I was too late to save my friends. Sadness that we’d cut it so damn close that this was what the situation had come to.

I pulled to a stop alongside the vehicle, snatched up my spear, and drew it across my lap. There was no need to step out into the cold Midwestern morning just yet. I’d come there to wait again, after all. This time, however, I knew my contacts would show.

I released a deep sigh and cranked the seat lever so I could stretch out flat on my back. “It’s bad out there,” I said to Marcus. “Maybe worse than I thought it would be, which seems as stupid as hell, given what we know.”

We are certainly not at an advantage, he agreed. It is difficult to accurately gauge god activity in a period of time as short as we spent near the mountains, but it is safe to deduce that the effect has been more or less similar to what is happening here. He paused. We must hope against all other hopes that slaying Delano will be enough to begin to rectify the damage he has done.

“Okay, yes,” I said. “That’s all true. But there’s a silver lining.” I stretched my tired, achy limbs while I talked and willed energy back into them. “It’s clear that god activity is significantly diminished. We’ve hardly seen anything so far, not even big groups of Forgotten.”

Indeed, Marcus replied and once again, I could easily sense his frown. You deserved the respite, but I do find it somewhat worrying. This journey has never been tranquil. Again, he paused and I imagined his face as he searched for the right words. It strikes me as a bad omen.

I tried to cheer him up. “Lighten up, Doom and Gloom,” I said. “Even if you’re right, there’s not much we can do about it now. We made it back here. We can’t turn around. The only way to go is directly ahead.”

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, he said.

I grinned. “Hey, there you go.”

The conversation ebbed into companionable silence. I slipped my hand into my coat and withdrew the shard of magic mirror Marcus had given me as we left Carcerum. It still didn’t reveal much that I could understand. If I stared into the silvered glass, images took form, but I had no way to control who or what I saw and no frame of reference for the window in history. Ten seconds ago and ten years ago were exactly the same, as far as I could tell.

I put the mirror piece away and leaned my head back again to stare at the underside of the SUV roof. The calm before the storm weighed heavily on me. I grew fidgety when I thought about all the things that could go wrong or might have already gone wrong. As always, I cracked my knuckles and tapped my toes inside my boots. Suddenly, it was impossible to sit still.

Irritated by my own impatience, I sat up, opened the door, and hung my legs out sideways. The first slap of cold air momentarily chased my thoughts away, but they crashed back the second I acclimated to the temperature change. With the spear held firmly across my legs, I traced its sturdy shape—simpler than the Gladius Solis, but not bad for someone who didn’t know shit about forging. Of course, that probably had more to do with the weird magic of the god realm, but I let myself take some credit. I needed the confidence boost to fight my nerves.

Worry not, Victoria, Marcus said. You can do this. You have trained for it. And you are the last hope for the future.

I snorted. “No pressure. Oh, well. At least I have the spear.”

“You have us too, Vic.” The gruff, gravelly voice came from the far side of the pickup. I glanced through the window to see Smitty, Amber, and a thirty-person crew smiling into the cab. The old blacksmith snapped a salute. “Were contingent, reporting for duty.”

I scrambled out of the vehicle and ran to hug him and his granddaughter. “Oh, hell yeah! You actually made it.”

Amber gave me an unimpressed look. “Of course we made it, Vic. We’re freaking professionals.” She squeezed me tightly around the middle. “Besides, we wouldn’t miss this for the world.” Her brows arched. “Nice spear, by the way. Did you get sick of the sword?”

“Uh, in a manner of speaking.” I glanced at the forces they’d brought from the Pacific Northwest. “How’d you cart this many people long distance?”

Smitty cleared his throat. “Well…” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ll just say it was a chore. Did you ever try to put thirty werewolves through a security line?” He arched his woolly eyebrows and chuckled. “Ah, but it doesn’t matter. We’re here, and you’re here, and we have a large bone to pick, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” I said grimly. “Yeah, we sure fucking do.”

Chapter Thirty-One

The scenery had been bad on my first mission, but it had gotten even worse since then. Great swaths of the frozen dirt, which had been reasonably packed a couple weeks before, were now churned into an icy slurry that made the journey surprisingly treacherous. Signs of an ongoing struggle were strewn everywhere, including large, dark splashes of what was probably blood.

“Something went down out here,” Smitty commented. “Serious enough that it scared them all off, I guess.” He made a full-circle turn and his single blue eye scoured the surroundings. “It was like this out west, as well. Too damn quiet. They ought to be crawling out the woodwork.”

“It’s boring!” Amber piped up. “Sniping is way more fun than doing chores in the base.”

Her grandpa smirked. “She says that like I can even keep her inside for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Always patrolling, gathering information, and spying on whoever.”

“It was real busy for a while after you left,” Amber told me. “Maybe for a week or something like that. I saw a whole parade of gods go through the forest. Really crazy stuff. One guy was basically a dragon—horns out to here, wings out to there, all that good stuff.” She paused to sift through her memories. “We had some run-ins with a few of them, but they seemed to move fast and I don’t think they wanted trouble. It looked like they were on their way somewhere.” She frowned slightly. “Weird. I mean, where do they have to go? They can do whatever the hell they want, right?”

“One would think so,” I agreed. “But I suspect that we may have missed the bigger picture here.”

I don’t like it, Victoria, Marcus said. Something must be brewing beneath the surface. This is Delano we are dealing with.

It was a statement I couldn’t disagree with, even if I wanted to. Delano began as an Apprenti of Lorcan. It was only natural that he’d be obsessed with shadow, secrecy, and plans upon plans. His machinations definitely went several levels deep.

“That crazy jackass,” I muttered. “What the hell does he think he’s doing?” I had a bad feeling that we were about to find out in no uncertain terms.

We trudged onward and slipped and slid over the torn-up snow and soil. More blood had splattered over scorch marks and chaotic, churned-up tracks. A little before the one-mile line, the tremendous stillness was broken by a resonating crash.

Amber jumped. “What was that?” she demanded, her eyes wide. Another soon followed.

Smitty furrowed his brow. “It sounds like two mountains having a boxing match,” he said. “Is that yelling I hear?”

A third reverberated over our heads and deep, thunderous voices bickered indistinctly back and forth.

I smiled. “You know, your guess isn’t that far off, Smitty. And I think these might be a couple of mountains I know.” I increased my pace and left my bewildered cohorts to follow as best they could. Up ahead, I located two enormous hulking shapes armed with tree-sized clubs who swung at each other in the vast open space. Each time the clubs connected, chunks of wooden shrapnel exploded everywhere. I ducked as a piece zinged past my ear.

“Whoa!” Amber yelled as she came up behind me. “Are they gonna kill each other?”

“Nah,” I said and ducked again. “They’re only horsing around.” As they both readied themselves for two more mighty swings, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled, “Hey, guys! You’re supposed to be back at Brax’s barricade.”

They immediately ceased their altercation and peered around for the source of my voice. When they finally noticed me and my group, big grins spread across their faces.

“Human lady,” said the one on the right. He shouldered his club. “Good to see you. Am glad you safe.” He hunkered carefully into a sitting position and rested his chin on his hands. The other did the same.

“Are you guys twins?” Amber asked.

They blinked their enormous mono-eyes at her. “Do we look same?” they asked. “We not even brothers.”

“Oh,” she said sheepishly. “I mean…yeah. Sorry.”

The giants looked at one another and back at us before they burst into earth-shaking fits of laughter. Tremors rumbled under our feet as they kicked their heels on the ground. A small fissure opened not too far from where we stood and Amber gave me a worried glance.

“Twins!” roared the left giant. He coughed and sucked in a deep breath. “Funny tiny girl. No. He much uglier than me.”

The right giant grunted and jabbed a massive thumb at his friend. “It okay. He the dumb one.”

Lefty chuckled. “Yeah,” he said.

I suppressed a smile. “Do you fine gentlemen know what in the hell is going on around here?” I asked. “I didn’t think I’d see you this far in.”

They exchanged a glance. “We guard wall,” Righty said. “Like Brax say. We tell humans to go away. Not safe. Humans too small.” For emphasis on this point, he touched me very gently on the crown of my head with his finger. “Get squished.”

“And then what?” I prompted.

A cloud of confusion crossed Lefty’s broad face. “Whole human herd came,” he said. “Lots and lots of humans and not-humans. We try to stop, but no work. So, we follow.” He nodded his massive head in the direction of the temple. “They want go there. But we don’t. We stay out.”

“That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever done,” I told them. “Tell me what you mean by ‘not-humans.’ Did you see animals in that herd?”

“No, no.” Righty waved his giant mitt. “Not-humans like us. But smaller.”

Lefty added, “Much smaller. We biggest.”

“Like gods?” I continued to fish for something specific. Trying to get these guys to communicate was an exercise in patience and Twenty Questions. “Or something else?”

“Gods,” Righty confirmed. “And not-gods.”

“All right, so we have humans, not-humans, gods, and not-gods,” I said. “How many were there?”

Lefty’s eye opened wide. “A lot,” he told me. “A lot-lot.” He spread his arms as a general indicator of measurement. “Look like whole world.”

Yes, Marcus murmured. This is precisely what we did not want.

I made a face. “Why would he—” Then it struck me like a ton of bricks. “Oh. Oh, shit. He’s on the universe’s biggest power trip.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m glad you seem to understand what’s going on,” Amber said.

“It’s…well, it’s not that complicated.” I sighed. “I lost the sword last time I was here. Delano’s had it since then, and I guess it’s made him think he’s entitled to force the entire planet to bow at his feet.”

Smitty scoffed. “So you think he’s rounded them up to do just that?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged. “The dude’s a cocky prick. That’s all there is to it. He wants to be above everyone else.”

Amber drew her gun. “He’s gonna be on the floor when I’m done. I’ll kneecap him from a hundred yards out. He won’t even have a chance to see it coming.”

I grinned. “I like your moxie, Amber. But it won’t even be that difficult. He was nice enough to solve one of our biggest problems for us.”

“Aw.” She holstered the weapon on her back again and exaggerated a pout. “If I don’t get to shoot any bad guys out here, I’m gonna be pissed.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance once we’re inside. And I know exactly how we’ll get there.”

Amber’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, yes! I love this kind of sneaky stuff!”

“I know.” I motioned for everyone to draw in close. The giants tilted their heads to listen. “All right, team. The plan is simple. Listen closely, and don’t fuck it up.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Our crew adopted a more circuitous route as we pushed into the heart of Delano’s territory. We needed to find one of those caravans the giants had mentioned and insinuate ourselves into it without arousing suspicion. From there, we could easily infiltrate the temple.

But timing was everything. Obviously, the Weres needed to wolf out, but if they did it too soon, we would simply ask to be caught wandering the fields. I took a couple recon scouts ahead of the main group so that we would have ample warning. When we finally crept up on the back end of a caravan, I sent the scouts back to tell the crew. Then, I tucked myself away somewhere within sight of the transport. The spear transitioned into a walking stick once more.

The large group moved painfully slowly because everyone was exhausted and dragged their feet. All the humans and most of the Forgotten had downcast eyes but a few Forgotten stared defiantly ahead. The atmosphere, in general, was utterly dismal.

I waited until I heard the crew fall into place around me. Each of my Weres was ready to go in full, hairy werewolf regalia. I told them to look as run-down as possible, and to not make any sudden moves. Smitty’s silver blade arm was smeared with mud to hide its meticulously polished luster.

“Go.” I motioned toward the back of the caravan. “Now!”

We broke out of hiding and attached ourselves to the back of the caravan one or two at a time. As with all the other disheartened crowds I had seen, no one reacted to our appearance. We gradually eased forward through the ranks so that we could finally see the front. Word got back to me that the caravan leaders were buff-ass super-demons with giant leathery wings who apparently wielded pitchforks.

Amber’s response to this information was, “Isn’t that kind of cliche?”

“I guess so,” I said. “But I suppose they are leading a mob to a place of worship.”

She cast her gaze around. “I don’t know if you can even call these guys a mob,” she said. “No one’s done anything rebellious despite having complete freedom of movement. No one’s incited violence or even tried to run. I think they’ve all given up.” A hint of sadness colored her words. “I’ve seen this before. Back when Oxylem was in charge and gathered people as slaves, they all looked exactly like this. Total zombies, doing whatever he asked.”

“Well, if you ask me,” I said. “I think it’s time to put a smile on those faces.”

Before I could actually do anything, a strange sensation in my chest caught my attention. I dropped back into the crowd among my friends and fished the piece of mirror from my inside coat pocket. The surface of the shard was warm to the touch, like Marcus’s medallion whenever he talked to me.

I flipped it over to study the latest fleeting image and almost dropped it underfoot immediately. A wild rush of excitement surged through my body. Whatever Delano had done or planned to do, Deacon was still alive. A grin stretched my lips before the picture changed a little, and my entire heart crushed inward in agony. It was still Deacon in the mirror, but now, his face was twisted in horrible agony and his mouth opened in a scream I thankfully couldn’t hear.

My chest constricted once more to see him like that. I wanted to puke and cry at the same time. The depth of his pain was conveyed so intensely that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was dying. Delano had him sealed away somewhere and slowly tortured him to death.

Did the monster know I had the mirror? I doubted it, but then again, I knew better than to put anything past him. His sadistic cruelty knew no bounds. Maybe he did know somehow and used the knowledge to try to wear me down or get me to break so I’d be easy prey. I told myself that meant it was possible that Deacon’s torture was faked and that it was only an illusion to hurt me instead.

But I knew better. Delano would never fake torture if he had the option to enjoy the real thing. Again, I wanted to puke. To remain in that massed caravan of despair seemed impossible now, but to blow our cover would have been a disaster.

I positioned and repositioned the mirror shard in a desperate attempt to identify where Deacon was. He was sweaty and pale. Blood was smeared on the side of his face and a cut on his lower lip oozed around the swelling. His body convulsed.

The last thing I saw was his eyes rolling back into his head before the glass went dark. I shook it and flicked the surface with my finger but with no response. The sour taste of panic filled the back of my throat. Deacon was literally dying, and I’d been worried about blowing our cover?

“Fuck that,” I said out loud. I needed to find him as fast as humanly possible. I could almost hear his clock slowly wind down.

With my heart in my throat, I worked my way to the perimeter of the group, determined to slip away surreptitiously into the surrounding field. The problems with this course of action were that the fields provided almost no real cover during daylight hours and the perimeter of the caravan was under constant guard. One of the demons blocked me with his body and stared at me through piercing reddish eyes.

“Get back in line,” he commanded. He held his pitchfork firmly in one solid fist. I thought briefly that I should simply use the spear. I was sure I could do it and the jackass would die instantly, but a move like that would compromise our entire mission. All hell would break loose.

“Back in line,” the demon repeated and his eyes narrowed. “I will not ask again.”

Reluctantly, I shuffled back into the crowd. The demon kept his eyes on me for a while and I sensed his stare. Man, I so wanted to kill him. I wanted to kill all of them and race ahead until I found Deacon. Seething rage boiled in the back of my brain and clouded rational thought with pure emotion.

Still, logic prevailed. I knew deep down that there was far too much at stake to risk anything monumentally stupid. I closed my eyes without slowing my pace and counted to ten in my head. My breathing settled and the red-hot rage cloud dissipated somewhat. “Hold on, Deacon,” I whispered to no one in particular. “Hold on.”

“Vic, what the heck are you doing?” Amber hissed. “Is something wrong? Do we need to call it off?”

“What? No.” I shook my head vehemently. “No, no. Everything’s fine.”

She didn’t look convinced but didn’t pursue the subject and I made no effort at conversation. My head might have been moderately more rational, but it was still full of noise. I clenched and unclenched my fingers over the top of my walking stick. The throb in my leg suddenly felt stronger and more insistent. I fought a ridiculous urge to push out of my skin.

The caravan stopped and the demons in front yelled something to the guards on the sides. They all snapped to attention. Through a gap in their otherwise impenetrable wall, I saw the base of the mountain of rubble rear up before us. My gaze followed its line all the way to the top. From that vantage point, the temple itself was barely visible but I gazed fixedly at where I knew it would be. I knew Deacon was in there somewhere and there was no way in hell that I would leave that place without him.

Chapter Thirty-Three

The march continued and didn’t falter, even when the terrain turned craggy and rough. The winged guards goaded everyone forward and berated us constantly in a number of different languages. They cracked their barbed tails like whips at anyone who dared to resist or fell behind. One insubordinate Forgotten was unceremoniously heaved off the side about fifty feet up. No one else in his vicinity made any further protest.

I climbed along with the masses while I gritted my teeth and seethed on the inside over my inability to do anything other than wait for an opportunity. What I wanted to do was start a brawl and escape to look for Deacon in the confusion. Five years prior, I would probably have done it. Now, however, a little voice in the back of my head constantly reminded me of my duty.

His name was Marcus. Bide your time, Victoria. Do not throw everything away for a moment of gratification. Deacon’s salvation will mean nothing if you are both destroyed in the aftermath.

The logical side of me knew that he was right and I struggled to take his words to heart. To punish countless others for a selfish motive in this scenario would be unforgivable. The odds were too desperate. I didn’t even have an inkling of where Deacon might be, but I still had to wrestle that primal urge into submission. The nearest guard was so close and never so much as even glanced at me—the ultimate temptation that simply rubbed salt into my wounded heart.

I took a deep breath and held it until my lungs felt about to burst. The long exhale helped me drag my crazy nerves under control. I managed to force my hands to cease the endless clenching and unclenching around the head of my stick. The caravan wound its way through switchbacks and angled relentlessly upward toward the temple. Someone else fell with a shriek but we continued without even a slight pause.

Eventually, the sound of rushing water became more powerful than the desolate drummed footsteps of our forced march. We finally crested the edge of the mountaintop onto the temple’s plateau. The boulder at the corner immediately drew my gaze, the god still chained to spill water down into the river below. Its eyes—pure white—were wide, frightened, and agonized.

Behind that boulder, thick metal bars rose ten feet or higher along the back perimeter of the plateau. They formed a holding pen secured by a guarded gate that yawned open as the demons shoved us through. The temple stood beyond our reach but not out of sight like a pompous, glowing frog. It was open, too. I could see the first of the twisted pillars that lined the central hall.

The crowd surged forward and bustled me roughly along. Amber grabbed my wrist to keep us from getting separated. We ended up crammed against the far side of the pen. My cheek pressed briefly against the bars, and I noticed something that made me pause and stare.

Off to the side, a host of gods waited. They all looked incredibly awkward like they were at a party full of guests they didn’t know. Most constantly cast fearful glances in the direction of the boulder that weighed the water god down. They would’ve had to walk past it to reach the place where they stood.

I was sure Delano had done that deliberately. He was a big fan of sending messages. Now, I had one for him.

The ocean of bodies around Amber and me jostled relentlessly as more and more humans and Forgotten entered the pen. The air smelled like sweat, fur, fear, and who knew what else. The longer I stayed there and endured the constant push and thrust, the thinner my already worn patience stretched. Finally, I dragged my hands down over my face and groaned. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was find Deacon or bust.

I nudged Amber. “Hey, get into position as best you can and wait for a signal,” I told her. “It should be relatively easy in this mess. There’s no way for them to keep an eye on you for long.”

Amber nodded. “Okay. Although I have to say that I feel some hardcore déjà vu right now.”

Her words barely registered as I eased through the cover provided by the massive group. The temple loomed to my right, but I needed a way out of the pen first. Near the farthest back corner, I encountered a small commotion. Security dragged some beefy, horned lunkhead away. One of his horns had broken off at the curve. I looked at him as he was carried past and then in the direction he’d come from. There was a noticeable chip in one of the metal bars, and one of them was bent—not significantly so but enough for me to squeeze through. The fit was tight and it put way too much pressure on the gash in my leg. I powered through the pain and slid out on the other side.

Only a few people had seen me and most of them instantly pretended not to. One woman glanced at the small gap as if she wanted to follow. After a moment’s thought, she whipped around to face forward. I ducked away as a guard strolled past to make sure the disturbance had really been settled.

Close call, Marcus remarked. He sounded amused rather than scolding. To the end, you live on the knife’s edge.

“You know what they say,” I told him. “To thine own self be true.”

He scoffed. No one has said that for thousands of years.

It felt really good to break out of that claustrophobic prison, but I was nervous to be out in the open. No cover existed on the plateau except for the boulder, and that was too far away to be a practical option. I was more or less completely exposed.

“Hey, lady!” Some of the captives still on the inside tried to get my attention. They pointed forward toward the corner I now approached and mouthed the word “guard.” I froze and listened intently. Sure enough, heavy footsteps sounded on the adjoining side and moved steadily closer. The prisoners shuffled to make space, which I didn’t understand at first. Then it occurred to me that they expected I would give up and try to return to the pen before I was discovered.

Instead, I gave them a thumbs-up and whispered, “Thank you!”

I ran to meet the guard head on and kept the spear hidden as long as I could until my gaze locked onto his big, ugly face. He was some kind of armored golem, bigger than the ones I’d seen in DC and far meaner. He grinned when he saw me.

Still in motion, I grinned back. He grabbed with one huge hand but I hopped nimbly out of his grasp, drew the spear back, and forced it between his teeth. The blood that gurgled out of his throat cut off any kind of death scream and he dropped like a sack of bricks. I plucked my spear out, vaulted over the body, and went on my way.

None of the prisoners made a sound. Their overwhelming passivity now worked in my favor. Still, I was happy when I could veer away from the side of the pen and angle toward the temple itself. From what I could see, it seemed like the front entrance was the only one and at first, my heart sank. Delano might not have posted anyone there on my first visit, but now that he was looking for me, he had to have increased the guard presence. I hesitated and my mind raced before an idea pushed into clarity. I glanced at the spear. “Man, I hope this works.”

The wall of the temple was made of fancy, polished stone, but it was no match for a Solis weapon. The spear stuck solidly immediately below the slanted edge of the roof. I wasted a fraction of a second while I wondered if it would hold before I decided it didn’t matter. I would do this anyway. With a deep breath, I held my hand up, palm out, and willed myself to join the spear rather than the other way around.

“Please work,” I whispered and scrunched my eyes shut. “Please—” In an instant, my body dangled over open air and I instinctively closed my fingers around the shaft of the weapon in the nick of time. I braced my feet against the top of the wall, climbed onto the roof, crouched down, and pulled my spear free.

Very good, Victoria! Marcus said proudly. Your innovation can be quite impressive.

I frowned. “I must ask that you not give me a performance review while I try to save lives.” One life, specifically. One very important life. “We’ll talk about a promotion after this is over.”

With the spear slung onto my back, I dropped prone and crept along the roof on my stomach while I kept the spread of the plateau in my periphery. Guards circled the pen like sharks, inside and outside. They continued to thrust prisoners in through the gate like livestock held for slaughter.

A domed skylight was positioned in the center of the temple roof. It was dark, however, and as I leaned close to peer through the glass, I realized that it was too high up for the light in the lower part of the hall to reach. The sheer vertical distance made me nervous, but I thought back to my plane ride and my stormy climb in the Himalayas. Delano’s temple was nothing compared to that.

With the edge of the spear, I cut a hole carefully in the curved glass large enough for me to fit through and managed to prevent the loose piece from falling. Awkwardly, I slid it aside and rested it on the roof. I put my head in first to try to determine the best way to enter. One of the pillars made from gods stood directly in front of me and I looked into the petrified eyes of a beautiful, silver-skinned nymph. “Sorry,” I said as I hurled the spear at her. It sank home with a soft clunk, and I put my hand out and pulled myself inside.

Chapter Thirty-Four

I clung onto the side of the pillar with my spear in hand and ignored the fact that I was about two inches from what might be construed as a make-out session with a dead god. Because it was comprised entirely of corpses, the pillar provided many uneven surfaces for me to use as handholds. Once I’d stowed my spear on my back, I started to clamber down. I could have been more careful about it, but most of my brain and common sense had been swamped by my need to reach Deacon. It was hard not to picture the way his face looked in the mirror—so full of pain and suffering.

In my heart, I had known immediately that he was dying but I refused to accept it. I was determined that his death would not become a reality. He was the one person I absolutely could not lose.

I maintained a half-wary lookout for guards during my hurried descent and landed to push myself immediately into a run. No footsteps charged after me, so I didn’t bother to look back. As I darted out of the central hall, I yanked the mirror shard from my coat pocket and looked at it. Deacon was there but only for a split second. He vanished in an instant.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered under my breath. “Show me where they are.” The image lurched to reveal a glimpse of a doorway recessed into one of the walls. The frame had a distinct pattern that set it apart from the surrounding wall. I glanced up in the exact instant in which I raced past it.

There!

My boots actually squealed to a stop. I flung myself at it and shoved against the door itself with all my might. It had no visible handle and it didn’t budge at all. “Fucking move!” I demanded. My face flushed with exertion and frustration and all my power channeled into the barrier. The blood raged through my veins.

At last, it creaked open—not very much, but it was sufficient. I squeezed through that gap so fast, I almost tumbled down the steps directly behind it. These descended into a weird, rounded dungeon room. Bloodstains pooled and manacles littered the floor and walls. Otherwise, the chamber stood empty.

I froze for a moment and strained to hear over my own heart pounding and heavy breathing. No sound rewarded my attempt. Scraps of material were scattered on the floor around my feet, and I bent to pick one up. My fingers brushed a swatch of red leather and I cursed.

What did you find?

“This is part of Jules’s jacket,” I said. “She’s had it since college. I’d know it if I was fucking blindfolded.”

The rage swelled within me once more. I spun and moved back the way I had come, taking the curving staircase two steps at a time. Every passing minute challenged my ability to remain stealthy more and more. It would undeniably help me to remain undetected, but I also welcomed the idea of a fight.

The center hall was still empty when I came back in. I was at the back now, and to my right was the door from which Delano had emerged before. It was ornately carved with portraits of eyes, snakes, bats, and twisted trees that bore dark and ominous fruit. I grabbed the heavy brass handle and pulled, even though I expected it to be locked.

It wasn’t. The door swung back to reveal a study that oozed luxury. The back wall housed a gigantic window that provided a view of only barren cornfields. The space in front of it was dominated by a sleek black desk, its surface spotlessly clean. The chair was missing, but a tall, humanoid figure dressed in black lingered on the opposite side, silhouetted by the light that streamed in through the glass.

I drew my spear and shifted it in my hands. The moment of truth was upon me. I walked forward and opened my mouth to issue a challenge.

The man turned, and the words stuck in my throat. He wasn’t Delano at all.

“Deacon?” My hands began to tremble. “What…what the hell happened to you?” His face was unmistakable, but the rest of him screamed an obvious contradiction. Heavy dark wings sprouted from his broad shoulders and horns curled from the sides of his forehead. He stared at me through eyes as black as night, like Brax’s. All the warmth they had always held was gone.

“You know what happened,” he said. I winced. He still had his own voice, but each word rode an edge of ice. “Say it. I want to hear you tell me what I am.”

My insides swam in a cold, churning soup. I didn’t want to capitulate to his demands, but more than that, I didn’t want to fight him. I licked my lips. The words moved like molasses on my tongue. “He made you an Apprenti,” was what I finally stammered into the unbearable stillness between us. “Deacon—”

“What did you expect?” He strode forward and slammed his hand down on the desk. “You abandoned us, Vic. I jumped in front of that blade to save you—to buy you time—and you repaid me with cowardice. I forced him to spare your life, only for you to run away. You left us to die.” The force of his anger glowed from the depths of his demon eyes with an unearthly light. He had never been angry at me. Not like this.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “We stood no chance.”

He glowered but his ire seemed to die down. I watched him straighten the lapels on his suit the same way he had so many other times. “No,” he said. “You’re right. We didn’t. We were pathetic little sacks of meat and bones who played at games far too large for us to comprehend. But Delano took pity on me. He showed me the truth, Vic.”

“Oh, no.” A searing knot formed in the back of my throat. “Deacon, no.”

He continued as if I hadn’t spoken at all. “Power is the true path,” he declared. A slow smile bloomed across his features and the effect was uncanny. He looked like a mocking caricature of himself. “It’s the only way. If we stay as we are and continue to foolishly pursue our small-minded human goals, we will be doomed to repeat the same cycles forever—or until we are exterminated. Whichever happens first.” He moved around the desk toward me. “But Delano is proof that we don’t need to be tethered to a miserable existence. He was human too.”

“I know.” I spoke softly. To even look at Deacon was horribly painful, and yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away. How could this have happened?

He spread his arms wide. “And look at him now. All of this for a man who was once a simple Apprenti, like me.”

“You’re not a fucking Apprenti, you asshole!” I burst out. Tears welled in my eyes but I held them back. “You had a choice.”

Deacon advanced on me, his clawed hands balled into fists. “You left me none,” he said.

Victoria. Marcus’s voice was low and somber in my head. I knew what he would say before he said it. Although it is difficult, you must kill him. The Deacon you know is gone, replaced by a fiend who cannot—and must not—be trusted.

The tears escaped and slid down my cheeks. “I can’t,” I said. “I can’t.”

Deacon leapt for my throat. I dodged to the side and he managed only to knock my arm. The spear burned fiercely in my grip and washed his face in fiery light. His eyes reflected nothing. They remained empty and hard, trained on me as he swung at my head.

“Deacon!” I parried his strike with the spear. Part of his jacket sleeve burned away and exposed grey-tinted skin. He hissed. “Stop, I don’t want to do this.”

He smirked. “It’s too late, sweetheart. You should’ve thought about that while you ran away with your tail between your legs.” His tone made the phrase sound vulgar. “All that’s left to do is reap what you sowed. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

His massive wings beat to create a wall of wind that slammed me back toward the study door. I drove the point of the spear into the floor. The good old golden shield sprang up around me, and the wind sheared away as Deacon lunged.

Inside the protective dome, I waited with my hand on the spear and tracked the arc of his jump. At its zenith, I yanked the spear from its anchoring point. The shield exploded up and out and he was caught in its concussive shockwave, his momentum redirected toward the wall. I thought it would knock him out. I was wrong.

The bastard impacted with the marble and still landed on his feet. He brushed dust from his suit as he straightened. In a flash, he was on me again. The wings made it feel like he towered over my head until he picked me up by the neck. “Better than I thought,” he admitted. “But not good enough.”

I kicked fiercely at him and clawed at his face with one hand. The other tried in vain to loosen his grip. Deacon had been strong in his normal form but with the addition of Apprenti powers, he might as well have held me up with an iron vice. The edges of my vision greyed out. I felt my eyes bulge from the pressure.

“How does it feel?” he sneered and drew me in closer. “I guess I should really thank you for helping me to understand why Delano loves to watch the life drain from people’s eyes. I have to admit, it’s enthralling.”

I responded by kicking him in the balls as hard as I possibly could. He dropped me and doubled over.

“Yeah,” I said and coughed around a ragged breath. “Delano didn’t think of that shit, did he? Fucker.” I still loved Deacon deeply, but I had no issues with a few choice curses after he’d made a frighteningly powerful attempt to choke the shit out of me. He rolled onto his side, protecting his groin. It was my turn to walk up on him.

“You deserved that,” I told him. “Quit being a dick.”

He groaned and grabbed at me. I dipped nimbly to the side and knocked him away with the spear. Another portion of his sleeve vaporized. He surged upward to pull me off balance, but I was ready. Half a second later, I had him pinned and he grunted as he attempted to thrash himself free.

“Damn dirty fighter,” he growled.

I smiled sweetly. “You used to love that about me.” It hurt my heart to banter this way with Deacon like he was merely another disposable vamp. But if I stopped to think too hard about where I was and what I was doing, I knew I’d freeze. He had made it abundantly clear that I shouldn’t trust him to be merciful.

Now, Victoria, Marcus insisted. Do it. Be strong.

I clutched the spear and held it above his heart. Deacon smiled up at me. “You look exactly like him,” he said.

I scowled. “Fuck you.” Stupidly, unable to resist a sudden compulsion that swept over me, I dropped the spear and kissed him. His whole body went rigid. The claws on his hands tore at my coat. It was, I thought with some vague logic, much like kissing a charged wire.

Until he kissed me back.

The change that spread through him was ethereal and strange. Something unspeakable fled from him and seemed to dissipate into the chamber. We lay together on the study floor for what seemed like a lifetime of forevers, our lips locked firmly together. When I made myself pull back for air, his eyes opened.

They were brown.

“There you are,” I said fondly.

He said. “I’m sorry, Vic. Shit, I’m so sorry.” Deacon sat up and wrapped his arms around me. “It was me talking, but it wasn’t me. That sick son of a bitch had me trapped in my own head.”

I nuzzled his neck. “Don’t worry about it. I’m simply glad to have you back.”

“I’m glad to be back.” He ran his fingers gingerly through my hair. “Real glad.”

Marcus cleared his throat. In this case, I am more than happy to have judged in error. But I hope you have not forgotten the deranged god who is no doubt still searching for you.

“Ugh,” I said. “That guy.” I climbed off Deacon and stood. “Stay here. I’m gonna go take care of our big problem in little Indiana.”

“No way.” He pushed to his feet. “Last time I left your side, I ended up looking like Dracula’s understudy. We’ll do this one together.”

I smiled at him. “I always hoped you’d be open-minded enough to say that.”

On the other side of the study door, which had closed in the struggle, a booming voice echoed across the central hall. It was so loud, I barely understood what he had said, but we both knew exactly who had spoken.

I wondered if the whole damn world could hear him.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Be careful,” Deacon cautioned. We stepped into the hall and kept our heads low. Delano’s voice permeated the whole chamber. He was talking about a grand vision and rebuilding the world from its fetid ashes, or some shit like that. I found it difficult to be too upset about anything now that I had Deacon’s hand safely back in mine. Suddenly, I was positive we could take on two Delanos and beat both to a pulp.

We would have to be creative, though. The only exit I knew of lay directly ahead and I no longer needed to act recklessly and out of my mind. I tugged on Deacon’s arm and made an upward motion. “Let’s check the roof out.”

He raised an eyebrow. “The roof?”

“Yeah. You know. We can look at the stars. And the cornfields. And the dozens of gods who want us dead.”

He laughed. “Well, shit. I didn’t realize you were such a romantic.”

I led him up the pillars and once again ignored the bodies I scrambled over.

Victoria, I have a question, Marcus said. Forgive me if it is too personal. You are not required to answer.

“Shoot,” I said. “If it’s about Deacon, he can’t hear you anyway, so you’re fine.”

I only wish to know how you deduced that kissing him would return his mind.

“Oh.” I shrugged while I continued to climb. “That’s easy. I didn’t. It was a total shot in the dark.” A loose strand of hair fell into my face and I brushed it away. “But I remembered learning that Delano had cut his heart out when he became Lorcan’s Apprenti, and I knew Deacon could never do anything like that. All I did was remind him that he still had it and that I was still there.”

I see. I…believe that makes sense.

“Humans are emotional beings at our cores, Marcus. You know that. Our identities lie in the ways we feel. I made him experience what he really felt for me, and what do you know? He came back.”

Perhaps a useful trick to remember for the future, Marcus said.

“Ha ha.” I rolled my eyes. “You think you’re so funny because you live in a necklace and I can’t hit you. Wait until the next time we’re in Carcerum, buddy.”

At the top of the pillar, we pulled ourselves over the lip of the hole I’d cut in the skylight.

Deacon looked down through the glass. “I can’t wait until Delano eats it.”

“You and me both,” I agreed. On my stomach, I crawled across the roof to the highest point. The scene that unfolded took my breath away in the worst way possible. Hundreds upon thousands of captive humans and Forgotten had been crammed into the holding pen, shoulder to shoulder. There wasn’t enough room to turn around, let alone struggle or rebel. The guards that had circled when I broke out had been posted every few feet along the bars. They never shifted their gazes off the restless horde.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t direct my eyes anywhere other than Delano. He’d moved and now sat at the bottom of the temple steps as he addressed his literally captive audience. Once I had my first good look at him, I saw that it wasn’t only Deacon who had changed.

Delano had evolved into a repulsive creature. All sense of form had evaporated and birthed a hideous mountain of flesh. A ponderous belly protruded over thighs studded by strange, knobby appendages. Several arms bristled from his back and their attached hands grasped constantly at nothing. The face that was cold and beautiful a week earlier bore no resemblance to itself anymore. He turned toward us and displayed a mess of eyes, mouths, teeth. Threads of saliva spilled from his lips.

“Talk about a downgrade,” Deacon muttered. “Looking nasty there, friend.” He paused. “I guess we are all pretty nasty, huh. Sorry.”

I leaned over and kissed him. “I think I’m already used to it.”

He cocked his head to the side, puzzled. “I think that makes me feel better,” he responded after a moment’s thought.

Down below, Delano held the Gladius Solis in a hand with ten fingers on it. The blade swirled with darkness. His whole body rippled, and Delano thrust the weapon into the air. One by one, the gods bowed and the humans and Forgotten in the holding pen followed suit as best they could in the cramped space. I sensed no inkling of protest among those assembled. They all thought it was far too late, that Delano’s plan had run its course without a hitch.

He laughed loudly and gloated over his subjects. “Good!” he roared. “Submit to me, my wretched servants. I dare you to defy my divine authority.”

“Okay.” I stood and shouted so he could hear me over the sound of his own voice. “I defy you, Delano.”

I paused and allowed him time to parse the situation. His countless eyes probed in all directions. When they finally found me, I waved at him and smiled. His expression morphed from smug satisfaction into a whole range of feelings. Rage. Amusement. A touch of apprehension.

He recovered smoothly and amusement took over. “I hoped you might show your face around here again, deserter. In fact, you could say I had counted on it. Now the people you have forsaken will have the pleasure of watching me strip the flesh from your feeble skeleton. I will wear your living bones as a crown.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Why make a crown when I’ll take your head off anyway?”

Delano wasn’t fazed in the least until I revealed the spear.

That made him falter visibly. Again, he recovered fast. “I have nothing to fear from you,” he sneered. “A single human, alone in the face of the god to end all gods? I think not.” His smug smile returned in full force. “Even a Solis weapon won’t be enough to defeat an entire army of gods!”

“That much is true,” I conceded and nodded. “Which is why I’ve brought in an army of my own.” Rather than give him time to react, I aimed the tip of the spear and threw it with all my strength. Delano heaved his grotesque shape out of its path but his evasion was irrelevant. I hadn’t tried to hit him. The spear glided unimpeded to its real target—the center of the gate on the holding pen. Its lock shattered on impact and the gate blew open and thrust the guard detail aside.

Dead silence reigned. The humans and Forgotten, newly freed, exchanged glances of confusion. They still didn’t dare to speak, so I did it for them.

“The gods have pitted us against each other for far too long,” I began. Delano hunched, motionless and apparently stunned. “They wanted us to be as a house divided, unable to stand together and so unable to rise up in rebellion. But the days of dividing and conquering end right here, right now. Each one of you before me—be you human, vampire, Were, satyr, or centaur—has a choice to make. You can continue to live the way you are, cowed in fear and solitude by some bullshit, fucked-up god-monster. Or you can join me in the fight right now. We can be rid of assholes like him once and for all.” I gazed out over the multitudes. “To me, the choice is as clear as day but I leave it up to you. Return to the Forgotten or step alongside me and reclaim your freedom. Reclaim your dignity and nobility.”

They stared at me for a long while, then stared at each other. Finally, they turned as one to stare at the gods. Vengeful hunger blazed in the mob’s collective eyes. And for perhaps the first time in their lives, the gods were undeniably afraid.

“Throw off the chains the gods have placed upon you!” I shouted. “Let’s show these fuckers the mighty wrath of Earth.”

The last word echoed into a void. No one moved on either side. The long silence stretched painfully before someone in the front of the holding pen grabbed a rock and flung it at the gods. It was followed by another, and another, and another. A shout rang out—a lone voice cursing the gods. Soon, it was bolstered by countless others. The human-Forgotten front began to shift and hundreds of thousands poured onto the plateau.

“Kill them, you fools!” Delano screamed. His whole malformed body quivered. “Kill them! Kill them all!”

The other gods, half-galvanized by his frenzy, stumbled uncertainly to meet their foes, and all hell officially broke loose. I dropped over the edge of the roof and landed neatly fifteen feet from the monstrosity that had swallowed Delano. He turned his pulsing eyes to me. The sword raised up above his head, and his many legs readied themselves up for the charge.

He had been intimidating in his previous form, but now, he was mostly plain gross. It was the Gladius Solis I worried about. The first wound I’d received from that thing had yet to heal completely and I did not want to sustain another.

I craned my head back as Delano bore down on my position. The black sword sliced downward as anticipated. I put my hand out, summoned the spear, and caught the edge of the sword’s blade across the shaft. It wasn’t hot anymore but neither was it cold.

The sword simply reeked of evil.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Delano bared his crooked fangs scant inches above my face. His mouth filled with rows and rows of teeth jammed in there in such numbers that they seemed to burst outward when he dropped his jaw. I gathered my strength behind the spear and shoved him backward. His extra arms pinwheeled to try to maintain his balance. “This is a fucking joke,” I said to him and stepped forward as he staggered back. “Have you seen yourself? You don’t look like the sum of all gods, Delano. You look like Frankenstein’s experiment gone off the rails.”

He shifted his ponderous girth and backed hastily around the temple wall. The Gladius Solis slashed haphazardly through the air and left a black, noxious trail wholly unlike the arcs of fire I was accustomed to seeing. Where the blade scraped along the earth, its black aura lingered. “Give it up, Delano,” I called and followed relentlessly. “You’re making Kronin’s sword look bad.”

“Kronin?” Delano roared with laughter. “Don’t make me laugh, girl. Kronin knew nothing of glory.” He paused to taunt me. The whole building quaked as one of my giant buddies slammed a god with an armored shell into the side. The carapace and the stone both cracked and dust shook loose from the eaves of the roof. Delano cast a worried glance into the shadows and turned to face me. He charged with the Gladius Solis poised to carve out my heart.

The tip of the sword drew sparks when it collided with my spear. Delano roared and struck repeatedly. He tossed the sword from arm to arm in an effort to catch me off guard but I danced around him, traveled with it, and dueled each arm in turn. They were as strong as they were creepy, and I only managed to slice one off at the wrist. It fell with its fingers curled in like a dead spider.

Delano hissed. Blood poured down the backs of his legs from the brand-new stump. Annoyed by the sensation of a dead limb, he calmly pulled the whole arm off and whipped it at me. I sliced it at the elbow joint in midair. “Come on,” I said. “You can do better than that.”

He glanced around and a sick little smile slid across his features. His skin had assumed a greasy yellowish sheen. “I won’t have to,” he said. The smile evolved into a giggle and from there into full-on maniacal laughter. It was at this point that I noticed that the other fight between humans and the Forgotten and the gods had closed in around us. In a matter of minutes, the swarm of chaos would overtake me and I’d risk losing him in the melee.

“Fine.” I threw myself into a vengeful sprint. My trajectory aimed the point of the spear into the center of his distended abdomen. The spearhead became a white-hot streaking comet as I increased speed. “Have it your way, shit-face. I’ll bring the party to you.”

He evidently hadn’t considered the effect that his monstrous proportions might have on his speed, which was shamefully slow. Still, I was about to learn that the mutant god was more in tune with his horrible vessel than I expected. At the last minute, much like a car that took a turn way too fast, he careened onto one foot and teetered precariously, threatening to topple the other way. His laughter still rang in my ears, but I was the one who emerged with a grin because he wasn’t quite fast enough.

The spear met almost no resistance on its way into his stretched, overstuffed side. Delano shrieked. A plume of murky blood spurted from the wound and his extra limbs went crazy. I leapt back to avoid the worst of their frenzied defense and yanked the spear out as I moved. The blood pumped harder to coat the ground in pools of deep-red, viscous liquid. One of the gods slipped in it. He was immediately pounced on by an angry Were and had his throat torn open.

Delano glanced at me. His misshapen face was sallow now as the blood seeped from the maltreated vessel he had created from his body. “It was a mistake,” he rasped, “for you to return.” He coiled, pulled all his energy into his legs, and spun away, trailing a kite of blood. His grotesque shadow sailed up and over the lip of the roof. I pulled my throwing arm back and prepared to release the spear. He was in for a big surprise if he thought he would get off that easily.

The ground beneath me shifted and threw my balance off. I stumbled but regained my feet, intent on my pursuit of Delano’s ugly ass until a wave of people and Forgotten crashed in around me and blocked the way.

“Fuck!” I yelled and fought furiously against the tide, but it was too strong. The former caravan was a body in motion; its inertia could not be stopped.

I turned in search of another way and felt much like I was in a human washing machine. The fight raged on every side, and as I pushed my way in the general direction of the temple, I caught glimpses of my badass friends as they faced the chaos head-on. Brax’s hammer was missing, but he had somehow gathered a whole militia behind him who hung on his every command. They swarmed an earth god the size of an elephant and worked together to bring it to the ground with a stupendous crash. As I turned away, Brax called to Smitty, and a squadron of west coast Weres flooded in to protect Brax’s team. The blacksmith and the demon nodded stoically to one another.

An enraged howl shredded the air. It emanated from a smallish, red-tinted Were whom I could have recognized in my sleep. As always, Hurricane Maya left a wake of utter destruction. She had, I noticed, learned to differentiate between allies and enemies without losing her trademark strategy of simply throwing her adversaries at one another. Gods sprawled around her like discarded old boxes. I couldn’t tell if they were dead, unconscious, or merely dazed.

Knowing Maya, I would bet that they won’t get up anytime soon, Marcus said.

“Good,” I answered, spitefully. “Fuck ʼem.”

Indeed, he agreed. Delano, however, remains at large.

“Yeah, where the fuck did he go?” I raised my gaze to scan the roof but Delano was nowhere in sight. “Maybe he fell through,” I said, half laughing. “We did put that hole in the skylight.”

He has probably returned to his quarters, said Marcus. I would not be surprised to know he has some tricks left.

“Dammit.” I stood still for a second too long, momentarily paralyzed by a bout of indecision. It felt wrong to leave the center of the fight behind like a general abandoning her troops. But I also knew without a doubt that since I was the one who had forged the spear in Carcerum, I needed to wield it. Anyone else would be crushed by Delano’s might.

I stepped forward to resume my journey to the temple, only to be stopped by a rising wall of screams. The combatants behind me either scrambled or were tossed aside to make room for the massive beast who hit me in the back like a semi-truck. I pitched forward and barely managed to break my fall. A lumbering, rank shadow fell over me.

“Hello, you little witch,” jeered the ogre and his nose wrinkled in disdain. “Surely you must remember me.” He notched his knuckles under my chin. The skin stretched taut on my neck as he forced my head up. With his fist holding my jaw closed, the only reply I could muster was a decisive middle finger. He growled and increased the pressure. My jaw and the vertebrae at the back of my neck creaked audibly.

At that moment, a furry hand clamped down on the ogre’s greasy, bald skull. The razor-sharp claws raked over his skin and released a trail of foul blood to the air. He only had a moment of fleeting horror as the first hand’s mate latched onto the other side of his head and the two tore him in half from head to toe. Ogre blood sprayed across me in a fine mist. I closed my mouth and eyes tightly.

“What are you doing?” Maya roared. Her arms were bloody up to the shoulders with fur caked into it. “If I can remember my humanity on a daily basis, you can damn well save it.” She pushed me toward the temple. “Go, go, go! We can handle things on our own.” I picked myself up with a smile. She was very serious.

The sharp reports of a gun cut through the din. Steph and Frank broke through the ranks and dodged around a falling god. She grinned at me as she took pot shots without looking. “Vic!” she shouted. “Go after that living ball-sack. We have it covered here.”

“Tell him Frank says hello!” the vampire added.

Steph flashed him a warning look. “Don’t tell him that.”

More gunshots snapped through the air. Another god fell dead where it stood, killed by an unseen assassin. If I squinted hard at the temple door, I thought there might be a glimpse of Amber, holed up in her makeshift nest with a huge grin on her face.

“Don’t just stand there, Vic!” The newest voice made me whirl around. Jules leapt across the carnage and swung Brax’s hammer as if it rained money instead of fire. She had a look on her face that I’d only seen in the courtroom before—raw, intense conviction. Clearly, those two had enjoyed a few discussions about the philosophy of violence, and so far, it looked like Brax had won. “You heard Steph,” Jules shouted again. She made another mighty swing and a smallish woodland god, all leaves and delicate branches, catapulted out of her path. “Don’t let him get away.”

It seems as though your friends know best, after all, Marcus said.

“Okay, okay!” I gave the battlefield one last glance. My crew would hold it the hell down. Righty and Lefty, the two giants, hung on the outskirts and picked up any stragglers dumb enough to try to leave. “I get it,” I said with a grin. “They don’t need me.” Pride swelled in my chest. I was still smiling as I turned toward the temple and broke into a run.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

This time, instead of sneaking around like a hunted animal, I brought the tide of hell into Delano’s temple. No sooner had I taken the first two steps down the wide aisle of the center hall than the pillars on both the left and the right came to life. They spilled out of their uncomfortable, tightly bound formations and shambled toward me with obvious intent to fight. Fortunately, all that time in suspension had weakened them severely while I was at the top of my game.

The Solis spear blazed a vengeful trail and branded its permanent mark on every emaciated body. I kept a special eye out for the silver nymph with the hole in her face, whose terrified eyes I had gazed into not so long ago. The spear’s intrusion had half blinded her and she attacked with a scream of rage, one eye uselessly opaque.

I plucked her out of the air like a fly on the tine of a fork. Her body dropped to rest with the others, completely free at last of Delano’s control. I hardly considered myself a saint for dispatching so many of Delano’s thralls, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over it either. They had made their ultimate goals clear in no uncertain terms and it was my job to make sure those goals never reached fruition.

Still, there were a lot of those frail, desperate entities that scrambled madly for their second chance. A grotesquely beautiful arachnid goddess somehow managed to slip behind me and lunge at my back with her sharp, barbed front legs. The first sting burned on my neck but I was momentarily deafened by an inhuman death screech in my ear. As I turned and cringed away from the terrible shriek, Deacon pulled his claws from the thorax of the huge black spider.

He grinned at me and shook slime from his hands. “And that,” he said, “is why you keep me around.”

“I can think of a few other reasons,” I answered.

There was nothing left of the pillars now. The temple floor was strewn with bodies and slick with innumerable shades of blood. The last surviving holdout, an archaic, uncanny, almost-human creature, fled halfway down the hall before the door at the back banged open and Delano swooped out.

He snatched the god in his flabby clutches, seized it with his innumerable pairs of hands, and sucked its life force dry. Like so many others, the remaining husk was tossed aside. A moment later, each crooked, jutted limb began to elongate and elevate his disturbing corpulence too high in the air. The limbs were imbalanced in strength and perhaps too weak to support his bulk. He swayed dangerously atop his new supports and maneuvered to face us. Deacon and I gaped at him, a reaction he mistook for shock and awe.

“Power,” he said. His voice was uneven and warbled a little, bordering on incomprehensible. Whenever he spoke, a chaotic mix of teeth flashed in his mouth. “Strength.” He raised his arms like bristles across his body. “I can feel it. I can taste it. So close. So sweet.”

“So fucked,” I said. “You know as well as I do that it’s time to end this madness. And I’m right here, right now.”

The god’s many eyes narrowed into glittering slivers. His face had lost all sense of structure. It was now merely a mess of features squashed together in a way that would have been extremely unsettling if I hadn’t been so determined to kill him from the get-go.

“Very well,” he declared at long last. “As you wish. Let us settle this petty, meaningless score.”

The whole time, he’d gradually inched forward and now lashed out with one of his huge new legs. I dodged its cruel sweep only to have to leap aside again as it impacted the wall. The impression it left in the stone was deep and wide. He was terrifyingly fast now, as well as terrifying in general. I honestly didn’t want to go near him, but I knew I had to. The tip of my spear needed to bury itself all the way down into that black heart.

After a few minutes during which we danced around one another, Delano finally seized an opportunity to attack and the impetus forced the air violently from my lungs. I severed a few of his legs as he charged, and the uneven distribution of weight finally began to hinder him. He now walked with a crooked gait and jerked around like a broken marionette.

Before I could anticipate his next move, he reared back and flames brimmed at the corners of his mouth. He spat them directly at Deacon and me. I threw myself out of the way, not at all fazed that I landed prone on the floor of the temple. I expected one of those snaky limbs to wrap around me at any moment and braced myself to slice straight through the flesh. But Delano had chosen to take Deacon out of the game and he did so with one swift blow.

“Deacon!” I couldn’t keep myself from calling to him as he slumped onto the cold floor. Delano pushed his former Apprenti away like a pile of trash. “Fuck you! I’ll make you answer for what you did to him.”

“What I did to him?” The monster made the closest approximation to a smile that he could. “Darling, I improved him. You should thank me for that skin, those horns, and his increased longevity. All he had to do was admit that I’ve been right all along.” He tucked his head into his tank-like body and launched himself toward me like an artillery shell. I scored his flesh as he passed.

“You made him an Apprenti!” I yelled. “You took everything from him and made him empty promises.” I charged at the god’s grotesque form and hurled the spear from a distance. It stuck hard in a flesh crease on his side and more grape-hued blood trickled from the wound. The spear disengaged at my silent call and returned to my hand. “And for what, Delano? So he could defy you for real in the end anyway? Nice plan.”

Delano frowned. “Humans are weak,” he hissed contemptuously. “The earthworms of the universe. No magic, no strength, no speed. Nothing to set them apart from every other completely trivial race that’s ever been created. I threw away the dreary chains of humanity so that I might have a chance to elevate myself and learn more about how to fix the regrettable circumstances of my birth. I yearned to be something greater.”

I motioned to his whole face as I danced barely of his reach. “I’ll be honest with you, man. This whole hybrid thing you have going on isn’t actually greater. You went too far. You crossed like fifty lines. There’s no way to get this back the way it was.”

“Silence!” he bellowed. The array of hands snapped out again in an attempt to snatch me. “I wanted everything for Deacon. I would have treated him like my own, as Lorcan did for me. He had potential to learn the ways.” He paused, then smiled. “That’s not true. I wanted to hurt you as badly as possible. And I did, so it wasn’t a total failure. That’s my favorite thing about humans.” He smirked. “They have so many soft spots.”

“Shut up!” Even the mention of Deacon’s ordeal still threw me into a rage. “What do you know about pain and weakness, you scumbag fucker? You were never fucking human. That’s why you could give Lorcan your heart in the first place. Because you didn’t need it. You were already empty.”

If I had expected Delano to be offended or hurt, it was a naïve hope. He beamed with pride instead. “Perhaps that is true,” he admitted. “And what a wonderful Apprenti I was. Lorcan couldn’t have asked for better, really.”

“That’s funny,” I said. “Because we both know what happened to him.”

A spark of anger flashed in Delano’s eyes. He ran at me on those creepy, multijointed legs and tried to sweep me forward into a hug of death. His teeth gnashed relentlessly like a portable meat grinder that simply waited to chew me up. I didn’t doubt for a second that he’d swallow me whole if he caught me.

But he now had a hard time adjusting to his latest modifications. The legs he had taken from the last god in the pillars slowed him immensely. He relied on far-reaching, area-of-effect attacks to keep me at bay, but I darted in and out of his personal space more quickly than he could strike.

We pushed and shoved our way out onto the front terrace of the plateau again, where the war still burned hot. Delano had his back to the fierce clash. He seemed to lose energy and patience. His body required massive amounts of fuel to function, and he realized that he’d eaten every god already—or, at least, the ones he could catch. His power seemed to be a finite resource, like a bright but short-lived star. The look in his eyes gradually shifted from supreme arrogance to something closer to anxiety.

“You will lose!” he screamed at me. “Why do you even fight? Not even Kronin could defeat me now.”

I stared at the abomination in front of me, my spear leveled at his head. “You’re right,” I said. “Kronin couldn’t win. But he fought his war with only half an army.”

Delano’s face contorted. “What is the meaning of that?” he demanded.

I pointed over his shoulder and waited patiently while he heaved himself around. The legs made small snapping sounds as if they had begun to break beneath his weight. Delano stared in silence. In the short period we had been outside, the fighting had petered out to a small skirmish here or there. The gods he had recruited were dead, gone, or captured. Every other eye atop that mountain now focused on him.

My crew stood stone-faced in the front and glared at him.

“It means I have all of Earth on my side,” I said.

“No!” Delano whirled and lashed out with the sword. I swung my spear at the exact moment. The Gladius Solis shattered in his hand, an ignominious end to a noble weapon that had brought me so far. Before the pieces struck the ground, I leveled the spear at his chest. It burned brilliantly with Solis energy that thrummed to be released. The blast struck Delano right over the place where his heart had once been.

As heavy as he had become, Delano remained no real match for a Solis weapon. I watched him catapult back and be subsumed by the horde as if in slow motion. The last glimpse I ever had of him was his horrible, monstrous face and his mouth twisted open in a scream.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“It isn’t like this the first time,” I said and paused on the side of the mountain to admire the crystalline blue sky. “It figures that the weather would behave better for an actual demon, I guess.”

Brax laughed. “My reputation precedes me,” he replied. He wore no special equipment for the climb, only his clothes and boots—and, of course, his glasses—and carried his hammer on his back. On mine, I carried the Solis spear. On my belt were the broken pieces of the Gladius Solis. The two of us had embarked on a special mission at my request. Months after Delano’s fall at the temple in Indiana, we now headed to Carcerum one last time.

I didn’t expect that there would be much to see there. Most of the deities who came to Earth had been at the temple that day, and the vast majority had fallen in the fight. The handful of survivors had fled or surrendered, which meant that the great halls of Carcerum still stood empty in their grandeur. We had considered the possibility of returning the few gods who were left to the home where Kronin kept them, but as acting head of the brand-new Human-Forgotten Alliance, Jules objected.

I remembered that day as though it had happened minutes before, so vivid was the arguing, the passion, and the bickering. The other members of the Alliance, better known as the rest of my crazy friends, couldn’t agree on where to send the last living gods. Dan and Veronica thought that since Carcerum had been set aside for them, that was where they should return but under different supervision. Frank and Steph yelled at each other about whether or not gods deserved to be treated humanely. Luis sat back, shook his head, and grinned silently.

Jules and Maya, however, had a new solution.

“Let’s send them to Asphodel,” the Were had said. Faced with a host of puzzled stares, she elaborated. “Look, what they’ve done is completely reprehensible. No one can dispute that. But if we simply stick them back in their happy golden fantasyland where they have everything they could possibly want, they won’t learn squat. And maybe they’ll multiply somehow, and maybe in another few millennia, they’ll be pissed about something and this will happen all over again.” She paused to let her words sink in. “If we put them in Asphodel, they will suffer. It might teach them some empathy, and if they have empathy, they might not act like such crazy jerks all the time.”

“I agree, I think,” Jules chimed in after a moment’s thought. “I mean, I believe they deserve death, but we as humans are capable of mercy. Asphodel will be a place of repentance for them.” She glanced at Brax. “Would you be willing to keep an eye on them while they serve their sentences?” Each god faced several centuries of time for literal crimes against humanity.

The demon had looked at her for a minute, classically impassive, and finally dropped his shoulders and started to giggle. The sound made us all a little uncomfortable, and it continued for a long time. But when the fit finally abated, he had agreed to be the jailer of Asphodel. He had also agreed, with some reluctance, to allow Jules to visit him on the weekends. When he told her it was too dangerous, she’d simply smiled and said, “Even jailers need conjugal visits.”

I had never seen the demon shut his mouth so fast.

After that last meeting, we all went our separate ways for a while. Frank and Steph embarked on the most tempestuous, dramatic relationship we’d ever seen. The last I heard from them, they were on breakup number eleven, Frank planned to start a numbers racket with a gang of satyrs he’d met in the temple dungeon, and Steph vowed to shut them down before they even started.

Deacon and I went on cleanup duty and rounded up the last of the gods from the far corners of the earth. We found out from Namiko and others that a good number of them hadn’t shown up to the final conflict. These beings proved to be mostly resigned to the whole situation, so we were able to take our time and have a vacation while we worked. We never really had the chance to relax together before that trip—not fully, anyway. A significant amount of time was spent in hotel rooms and he may have been tied up once or twice—by request.

Maya, in stark contrast to our debauchery-filled working vacation, continued to act as our moral backbone and dedicated her time to working with the newly freed Forgotten. She spent hours and hours at therapy centers and reached out to all kinds, but especially Weres. These learned how to deal nonviolently with their powers, how to control them, and how to channel them in a positive way. She was freaking amazing at it, to no one’s surprise, and was uniquely qualified for the position.

Smitty and Amber traveled back to the Pacific Northwest after things stabilized in Indiana. Their camp inside a church exploded into a thriving community. Amber sent me pictures of a city in the early stages, minus skyways and buildings above the clouds. She said it was weird and wonderful to watch the place they’d built in the wilderness take on a life of its own. She still kept in touch with Namiko, who now ran all over the place and compiled every scrap of god-related information she could find. “Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it,” she said. “We’ll never forget about this again.”

Victoria.

“Huh?” I snapped out of reverie and back into the clear, cold, sunny day. We were close to the summit, now, and perhaps an hour out from the peak. “What’s up, Marcus?”

I still do not understand the reasoning behind this return to Carcerum. It is a relic of history now. It serves no practical purpose.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said as I’d done since the idea for the trip came into being. “It’s no big deal. There’s merely something I have to make right.”

I stood by the forge in Carcerum and stared at the surface of the smithy. The broken pieces of the Gladius Solis lay arranged in front of me. They no longer swirled with Delano’s black energy. His death had caused that influence to ebb over time. The telltale veins of orange had begun to return to the surface of the stone. With some skill and a lot of patience, I was certain the sword could be good as new.

But I wasn’t there to repair it. I gathered the pieces and gave them to Brax, who melted them down in the forge’s furnace. He removed the molten stone and poured it into the mold I had found. The shape of it was strange, ethereal, and foreign. If it didn’t work, I told myself, it didn’t work.

I had a feeling it would, though.

While the metal cooled, I removed Marcus’s medallion and set it in there. The Solis Stone coalesced over top of the medallion and consumed it entirely. I drew a deep breath and looked to my left.

Marcus stood beside me in the flesh. He looked around, flexed his fingers, and patted himself down. “You could have restored anyone,” he said to me. “Anyone you wanted. Yet you chose me?”

I shrugged. “Don’t get all touchy-feely about it, okay? It has nothing to do with me or you, or whether I think you’re super cool. Carcerum needs someone to stand watch, even if no one is here.” I reached over my shoulder for the spear and withdrew the shard of the mirror from my pocket. I handed both to the old centurion.

“I’m sorry it broke,” I said. “I hope you can fix it. And that you’ll keep an eye on Earth.”

Marcus bowed his head. “It would be my honor, Victoria.” He paused. “What will you do now?”

I took a deep breath and glanced at the demon. In true Brax fashion, he offered nothing more than an unhelpful shrug.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But I’m through being the captain of the ship. It’s time for someone else to step up to the helm.”

“That is fair,” said Marcus. “You have done so very much for this world and its people.”

“I have one last request,” I told him. “And you can’t laugh.”

“I will not,” he swore solemnly.

I smirked. “Could I get a lift back to Earth? The door in the palace is like, so far away.”

The Roman smiled in response. “This is a trick you never did learn.” He raised the spear and used its tip to cut a perfect shining circle in space and time. I reached out, grabbed his free hand, and squeezed it tight.

Then, Brax and I walked on through.

Epilogue

Even the air smelled differently on the way down the old familiar street in Brooklyn Heights. The route wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been only a year or so ago before I knew the word “Forgotten” had another meaning. But the big empty spaces and the slowed pace weren’t unique to my old neighborhood. The whole city was like that now as it struggled back onto its feet from one hell of a dirty fight. JFK was the only major international airport up and running again, and even then, only a restricted number of planes could be cleared for takeoff and landing. Real conversations in the streets were rare but grateful smiles were common.

As New Yorkers, we all took a little of the responsibility to nurture our beloved city back to health. She would never look the same again—that much was undeniable—but she could stand tall and be strong. Her pulse could once again beat through the veins of her streets.

I loved the walk around my old stomping grounds, despite the rubble that edged the streets and the fine white dust left by buildings that had collapsed months before. Enormous sections of the city remained uninhabitable, and popup shelters had sprung up everywhere to accommodate those on the streets. It warmed the cockles of my heart to see New Yorkers step out to help their neighbors during a time when nobody had much of anything.

Lost in my thoughts, I turned from the main thoroughfare onto my street. Green buds had begun to explode on the trees that had managed to survive. Patches of vibrant blue sky showed through the wiry branches. The sun shone brightly although still without too much warmth. All in all, it was a nice day in New York again.

Freaking finally.

I approached Mac’s newspaper stand and hoped against hope that the old guy would be there. He wasn’t and the stack of gradually yellowing papers on his counter was months old, but I still took one off the top and fished a wrinkled dollar from my pocket to leave as compensation. Out of habit, I glanced up and down the street to see if I’d missed him chugging along on his way to open after a suspiciously long smoke break. Mac was nowhere to be found. I hoped he was okay.

The paper was tucked under my arm as I resumed my leisurely stroll toward the shitty apartment building I’d lived in for so long. No Sam lounged under his hat in front of the door, either. A bittersweet pang of nostalgia kicked me in the chest. I wanted to think that Sam and Mac might have moved on and found something else to do or somewhere else to be. I could imagine them trekking through the Forgotten-ravished landscapes I had seen, smiling and drinking in each other’s serene guidance. It was a nice daydream, anyway, but there was no way to disguise the reality that things were tough and they would be for a long time. We were tougher, though. We humans would persevere because after all, some things never changed.

I stepped through the same front door with the rickety overhead light and checked the plastic dome for the same large moth that had laid dead in the bottom for centuries. It was there, and so were the rusty mailboxes that never locked, all predictably hanging wide open. I took the steps to my old apartment on the top floor, which was also unlocked.

It smelled musty and close in there. The first thing I did was go to the windows and yank them open. The place was an absolute wreck. Inches of dust blanketed items that had lain unattended for months. Pieces of my walls and broken furniture littered the floor—leftovers from any number of confrontations, I was sure. Clutter heaped high on the only table. The hot plate was in need of a good scrubbing. A weird smell wafted from the depths of the mini-fridge. The bathroom corner didn’t even have a damn door.

Ignoring all that, I cleared the sofa off with a wide sweep of my arm, sat, and sighed as I collapsed into the cushion. It was like a welcome-home hug, and it felt amazing. Then something strange and furry touched my elbow, and I almost screamed bloody murder.

The cat poked her nose out from behind the couch and jumped up next to me. She was a little scrawny, but she seemed otherwise healthy.

“How’d you get back here?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her since before we’d first arrived at Fort Victory. She meowed at me and purred like a motorcycle engine as she leaned into my hand for scratches and ear rubs. I let her tuck under my chin as I opened the paper. It was all as weird as hell and way too ordinary.

I kind of loved it—at least, for now.

The knob on the janky apartment door turned and Deacon stepped through. He was a vision in a suit, a look that was only enhanced by his other, more unique attributes, as far as I was concerned. After Delano had fallen, many of his more overt demonic features had faded somewhat. I had to say that decent clothes and regular showers really helped. It was hard to believe, but he looked much like he had when he was fully human. He’d reclaimed most of his sleek, sharp style. And of course, he was still the same Deacon I tried so hard not to fall for once upon a time.

“Hey, gorgeous.” He sat himself down on the sofa beside me and worked his arm gently around my waist. I shifted my weight against his chest and settled into the warm contours of his body. “What are you reading?”

“The wanted ads from, like, six months ago,” I said. “I figure it’s about time I got a real job, you know? Maybe start thinking about building a real life.”

Deacon laughed. “You have a funny sense of timing, sweetheart. Money doesn’t seem all that important at the moment. Who knows when we’ll have a working economy again?”

I flipped the page and snuggled deeper into his arms. “It’s not really about the money. I want to set a good example.”

He turned his head down to look at me, confused. I took his hand, the skin still vaguely blue-gray toned and the talons on his fingers neatly trimmed, and I placed it over the middle of my stomach. There were no kicks to feel yet, but there would be soon enough.

I smiled at him. “For the next generation.”

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Author Notes

January 28, 2019

Dearest readers,

I’ve been putting off this set of author notes for a couple of days now.  Not because I don’t love our little chats, but because we’ve reached book eight.

Vic and friends have won the battle, and it seems that her crew is assembled to watch over a new Pax Terra—Peace on Earth.

Ending a series is tough for Lee and me. In fact, out of three full series we’ve written, this is the first one that we’ve decided needs to have a decisive close. Even as I write this, I keep wanting to hedge my bets, leave an open door for future books in the world of Forgotten Gods. But, lo and behold, I won’t.

Am I going to promise that we will never, ever come back and write more stories about Vic, Deacon, Maya, and the rest of the crew? Hell no!

One never can tell where the winds will blow our creative juices, but let’s all enjoy the victory, exhale, and continue on to the next series to fall in love with—and we have some for you!!

It’s been a little over a year since Lee and I pitched the idea of the gods’ return to Michael Anderle, and since then, we’ve become completely smitten with the characters, the world, and all that Forgotten Gods had to offer.

This has been a really fun run… but I want you to know, the most incredible part of the process is you!

There are authors out there that write their words for the love of the craft. I hear people say they could write their books for an audience of none. Do I get that? Um… sort of. But the truly fun part of it all, what really gets us grinding away through the midnight hours and during lunch breaks and while I wait for my kids at practice is YOU.

So, in this last note in this series, I want you to know that we are forever grateful. We love our readers—those we’ve heard from over the years, as well of the ones we’ll never get a peep out of.

Finally, we started in the world of writing as what is known as “indie authors.” Independent. Self-publishers. But there is nothing “independent” or “selfie” about being an author, whether you’re in the traditional world or not. That’s why we need to offer a big final thank you for the team that surrounds us as well. To the Just in Time reader team, editors, administrative staff, and our incredible cover designer (Hey, Heather!). It’s always a team production, and there were many, many people doing the heavy lifting on this one.

Oh, there’s one last person to thank: ST Branton.

All this time, ST has been tied up in Lee’s basement, wedged between the water heater and a pile of self-help books writing away. He’s a heck of a guy. Almost never complains. A saint, really (get it?).

You might be wondering if we’re letting ST out now. Not a chance! He’s already writing outlines and beats for our next Urban Fantasy, and we are really, really excited about it.

We think you will be too! The working title is The Heinous Crimes of Sarah Slick… Here’s the tagline: “She’s the human that monsters fear at night.” If all goes well, it will be out in the Spring of 2019. Keep your head up and eyes open!

Thanks again for taking the journey with us.

For Kronin,

Chris (and Lee)

PS: We have heaps and heaps of books for you to read and three projects currently nearing publication.

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PPS: If you’ve loved Vic and friends, we really think you’ll fall fast for Hannah in our Rise of Magic series.

Grab the Box Set of the first four books for one low price (or free on Kindle Unlimited)

Also by CM Raymond and LE Barbant

Steel City Heroes Saga

Catalyst (1)

Corrosion (2)

Crucible (3)

Casting (4)

Jack Carson Stories

The Devil’s Due (1)

The Devil’s Wager (2)

The Rise of Magic

* With Michael Anderle *

Restriction (1)

Reawakening (2)

Rebellion (3)

Revolution (4)

Unlawful Passage (5)

Darkness Rises (6)

The Gods Beneath (7)

Reborn (8)

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